A series of vignettes from around the Emerald Empire dealing with the aftermath of the death of the god-beast and other assorted tragedies.

Scenes from the Empire

By Shawn Carman & Nancy Sauer

Edited by Fred Wan

            It was with a heavy heart and eyes dim from exhaustion that Miya Shoin, the Imperial Herald, entered the throne room of the Divine Empress. Two of his most trusted vassals followed closely behind, the satchel bags they carried heavy with scrolls. Shoin bowed low before his lord, his forehead nearly touching the floor. “Please forgive my tardiness, Divine One. It is completely inexcusable. I am greatly shamed by my discourtesy and failure.”

            The Voice of the Empress raised his hand. “The task set before you was enormous, Shoin-san,” his rich, baritone voice said. “The Empress is not displeased, and in any event a handful of minutes can scarcely be considered tardy in any real sense.”

            Shoin did not rise from his bow. “Regardless, mistress, it shall not happen again.”

            The silhouette of the Empress behind her screen nodded, and Shoin rose. “In accordance with your wishes, my lady, I have prepared a comprehensive list of those slain in the battle with the god-beast, from the moment of its first appearance though the battle at Ryoko Owari in which it was killed.”

            “An exhausting task, to be sure,” the Voice said. “That you have completed it so quickly is a great testament to your gifts. The Empress is grateful.”

            “It is my great honor to serve,” the Herald said sincerely. “I must warn you, however, that there are many bodies as yet unidentified, and many who are missing. This list is as complete as it can be at the moment, but may require extensive correction in the coming weeks.”

            “Of course,” the Voice said. “Please, continue.”

            Shoin nodded and took the first scroll. “You know the broad strokes of it already, I am sure. The beast was felled by a number of factors, the exact cause of death being a point of contention. The Phoenix report we heard some days ago involved the use of Void magic on a large scale, which I must confess is something I find quite confounding. Other reports from the front insist that the beast was whittled away exclusively by martial means, and succumbed to large scale trauma and blood loss. There was a report from one magistrate on the scene that there were wounds on the beast that appeared after its death but before its immolation, and believes that some other factor may be at play as well.”

            “There is no consensus regarding the demise, then?”

            “None whatsoever,” Shoin said. “The controversy has been heated in some areas.”

            “Unfortunate,” the Voice said. “What else?”

            “I must also regret to inform you that the southern front lost considerable ground during the beast’s incursion,” Shoin continued. “Our front lines were broken and the Destroyers did not hesitate to make use of such opportunity. The southern Scorpion lands are now hotly contested and the Destroyers’ presence in that region is significant indeed. The conclusion of the matter in Ryoko Owari has allowed the commanders to redirect their full attention to the southern border once more, but the general consensus is that the ground lost cannot and will not be easily reclaimed.”

            “What of the city?”

            “Ryoko Owari has suffered much of late,” Shoin said. “My reports on hand indicate that as much as a quarter of the city was destroyed or at least appreciably damaged during a fire of considerable size some weeks ago. That led to an easy incursion by a group of demon spawn created by the god-beast, which ran rampant through the nearly deserted streets, damaging anything in their path.” He shook his head. “Under ideal circumstances, estimates believe that the city cold be repaired completely of all damage within approximately six  months, but of course these are hardly ideal circumstances.”

            “Hardly,” the Voice agreed. “What of specific losses? Can you advise the Empress of any losses which she may know of personally? The Child of Heaven wishes to know the names of those lost, rather than simple numbers, although numbers are an essential place to begin.”

            “Of course,” Shoin said. “The present estimate of those forces lost exclusively in the conflict with the god-beast at slightly more than four thousand, half of whom were lost in the battle at Ryoko Owari. This is the single most expensive engagement in the southern conflict to date, although the total losses of that war are perhaps ten times the amount lost to the god-beast alone.”

            “It is the fear of the Empress that the losses of this war, compounded with so many losses over the past generation, are such that the Empire will be left populated exclusively by widows, widowers, and vastly too few children.”

            “The situation is indeed dire by all estimates,” Shoin agreed. “By the present estimate, the war will, in eighteen months time, have exhausted the samurai population of the Empire to the point that repopulating the ranks of your armies will take more than two decades at best.”

            “Dire,” the Voice said. “The term scarcely seems to cover the enormity of the situation.”

            Shoin forced a smile. “Beyond that, there were many, many deaths. My research, which I must warn you was extremely hasty, indicates only a handful of major deaths that involve individuals whom you may be familiar with.”

            The Empress bowed her head behind the screen, and the Voice nodded for the Herald to continue. “Two of your generals were wounded,” he said. “Utaku Yu-Pan’s left arm was severed below the elbow, but she should recover in some months’ time. Her shireikan Shinjo Dun has assumed command at her insistence, but her recovery should allow her to continue her service as a warrior and commander. Similarly, Akodo Shigetoshi lost an eye in the fighting, but has refused to retire from the battlefield. His attendant shugenja are treating the wound as best they can while he continues leading from the front as best he is able.”

            “Great and honorable vassals,” the Voice said. “The Empress is grateful for their service and honored by their dedication.”

            “Beyond that, there were few among the dead that I could immediately link to the Empress’ person,” Shoin said. “Among them, however, was Kitsuki Hakahime, a former vassal of the Divine One during her time as the Kitsuki family daimyo, and Yoritomo Ietsuna and Bayushi Utamuro, both of whom records indicate crossed the Empress’ path during her time as a magistrate.”

            “Rivals,” the Voice said. “Still, their passing is unfortunate, and they gave their lives for the Empire. They will be remembered as heroes.”

            Shoin bowed his head. “Of course.” He gestured to the scroll satchels of his two attendants. “I have the lists of the dead, if it is your wish to take them and peruse them at your leisure, my lady.”

            “No,” the Voice said. “The Empress wishes to hear the names of the fallen.”

            Shoin stared for a moment. “All of them, my lady? That would take… some time.”

            “The Empress has cleared her schedule for the remainder of the day,” the Voice said. “She has relegated the important tasks of the day to the Emerald Champion. It is important that the Empress hear the names of all who have given their lives for her, or so she firmly believes.”

            Shoin bowed deeply out of respect. “As you command, my lady. I will be honored to perform such a terrible task for you, if it will in some way assist you in enduring this terrible time of trial.”

            The Empress nodded, and the recitation began.

* * * * *

            The warrior crouched within the bushes, unmoving as stone. There was a distant buzzing that he dimly recognized as his legs screaming out in protest at his position, at the fact that he had not moved in more than three hours, but he had long since trained himself to ignore such things. Pain and discomfort were mere impediments, after all, and those with proper discipline could overcome them without great difficulty. Bayushi Keirei had spent decades conditioning his body as a weapon under his absolute control, and he knew that it would not betray him due to a bit of minor inconvenience. So he waited. Unfortunately, the screams of the dying were far more difficult to ignore than the pain from his cramping muscles.

            The village had been under assault when he had crept to the perimeter as he arrived at the village, seemingly days ago. He had carefully assessed the situation and immediately determined that there was no way for him to help the villagers. The horde of undead that descended upon the village was far too great for him to halt by himself, or even if he had a dozen others with the same training. If there had been two dozen perhaps, but no less than that could hope to end such a gruesome rampage. No less than five dozen of the abominations were swarming all over the village, killing everything in their path, consuming many who fell, and randomly destroying whatever obstacle presented itself. Their numbers were hard to judge because of the chaos; there might be as many as a hundred, possibly even more.

            Keirei did not look away as an old man was dragged from his hut and torn to pieces, screaming all the while. This was what he needed to see. He needed to let the hate build up in his chest. It made it so much easier to do what he needed to do. Keirei had never shirked from duty, not once in his long years of service, but this… this was different. This was damnation. And while he watched the horror, he remembered.

            A young man, one of promising station and ability, one whose parents called in many favors to ensure that he could fulfill his dream and train with the acrobats of the Kakita Artisan Academy. A young man who dreamed of becoming a sensation across the Empire, of performing in the greatest courts, perhaps even for the Emperor himself one day. It was a lofty dream, but one that everyone agreed was achievable. And he dared to believe that it was his destiny.

            Then the Scorpion Champion had seen him perform.

            It was Keirei’s greatest moment, and it had been the greatest performance of his life. Never had his physical abilities been in finer form. He believed that this was the stepping stone to the dreams he had embraced, that now the only thing he waited for was his impending gempukku, and then the world would be his. But that was not to be.

            The Champion had been duly impressed, and had dispatched one of his vassals, a man named Shosuro Toson, to speak with Keirei and his parents. There had been no option, really. An accident had been staged, and Keirei’s future as an acrobat had been erased. He then began his true training with Toson and his students, marrying the Shosuro techniques with his own gymnastic training, creating something altogether new and never before seen, even among the Scorpion. He had become a unique weapon, and when he finally underwent his gempukku and took the name Keirei, he was nothing more than a whisper, a shadow among the Scorpion, someone that no one in the Empire knew.

            And now, his duty was the one thing he had ever been asked that he was uncertain if he could perform. Toson had scarcely been able to speak the words, but his lady Miyako-sama had not wavered when she told him.

            “Find the thing that wears my husband’s flesh,” she said, “and destroy it.”

            There. Amid the sea of dead and dying, Keirei spied a familiar form. The ruin that had been visited upon it caused him tremendous pain, for a man as great as Bayushi Paneki did not deserve a wretched disgrace such as this. Despite that his dreams had been shattered, Keirei revered Paneki above all others, for what miserable life in the courts could have compared to the things he had seen and done? He owed his life to his lord, and he was prepared to sacrifice it if it would give the man some measure of peace.

            Keirei erupted into motion, exploding from the bushes with speed no human should possess. He vaulted over a trio of confused zombies and ran at full pace toward the distant figure of his former lord. He spun into a cartwheel, lashing out with foot and fist as he sailed through the air, sending fully half a dozen more scattered along the ground. He needed no weapons as he drew closer, disabling everything in his path. He needed no weapon because he was a weapon. Hands tore at his clothing, rotten fingertips brushing ever so slightly against the smooth skin of his shaven head; if he had kept his topknot, he would have been undone.

            Bayushi Keirei launched himself into the air, sailing over other undead, his foot extended to crush the skull of his former lord. He could see a faint intelligence in the thing’s eyes, and even as he was in the air he felt absolute horror and revulsion at the thing’s existence, and no small amount of fear. Did something remain? He dared not even contemplate the idea.

            Hands grabbed his clothing. A dozen or more of the things managed to seize him and halt his progress, stopping him in midair. Keirei swore violently. There had been no indication they were capable of such speed or thought. Was the dead lord influencing them somehow? He had that ability in life, to change the lives of those around him simply by his presence, his charisma. Keirei was thrown to the ground, and the zombie lord simply disappeared into the ranks of the undead.

            Paneki was gone. The undead closed in around him. Keirei was lost.

            No.

            The acrobat launched into a flurry of violent motion such as he had never unleashed before. He crushed and shattered bone and flesh with every movement. The way around him cleared, and he could see daylight once more. There was a fallen torii arch nearby, and he vaulted to the top of it. He used his hands to balance himself, swinging in a circle in a series of acrobatic movements, destroying any undead that came near him. A dozen threw themselves at him only to be destroyed, then a half dozen more. He continued, his movement never ceasing, the violence never relenting, until he could see a break in the ranks. He threw himself into a somersault and ran at full speed for the break, slaying to more of the creatures as they attempted to impede his exit. As he crossed the village’s boundary he saw the things lose interest and return to feasting on dead villagers.

            Bayushi Keirei was free.

            The mission was not yet ended.

* * * * *

Before the battle…

The sun poured its heat down on Ryoko Owari, filling the city’s streets with fetid, muggy air. Isawa Nakajima did not notice. He was standing in the midst of a crowd of heimin waiting with patience and barely-leashed terror to be let through the gate at the street’s end, but he did not notice them either. The shugenja’s attention was wholly taken up by the beast that was approaching from the south. He could see it, as those around him could, a lumbering presence just glimpsed over the top of the city walls. But Nakajima could feel it was well: the god-beast’s presence revolted the elements, and even at this distance the shugenja was aware of the earth kami’s dismay. Their emotions pressed in on him, leaving him faintly nauseous and struggling for breath.

            “What is taking so long?” he complained to Shiba Nobuyuki, his yojimbo. “The people in this crowd could walk, or even run, much faster than this.”

            Nobuyuki shook his head briefly. “More speed would trigger a panic, Nakajima-sama, and in the crush no one could get through. It is a very narrow gate here.”

            Nakajima’s answer was cut off before it began by a swell of noise from the crowd.  His gaze immediately went to the god-beast, and he saw that the thing had stopped and was surveying something in front of it. The armies of the south, the shugenja thought, and he silently said a prayer for the samurai who were about to die. The god-beast shifted its weight to one side and then seemed to smite the ground at its feet.  Nakajima frowned a moment in puzzlement over what the beast was trying to accomplish and then he staggered, as did the crowd around him, when the street they stood on shifted and buckled.  He staggered a second time, as the normally placid earth kami sprang into a rage over something only they could perceive. Nakajima focused all of his will on not throwing up, trying to soothe the kami in his vicinity. The crisis passed and Nakajima’s awareness of the normal world returned. Nobuyuki was discreetly holding him up, saving him from the filth of the road beneath their feet. Around him the crowd had grown noisier, with whispered speculations and prayers to the heavens mixed in with screams and cries of despair.

            “We must get away from here!” Nakajima said, shaking off Nobuyuki’s supporting arm. “There is something terrible happening.” The yojimbo’s only response was a lifted eyebrow. “An additional terrible thing,” the shugenja clarified. “The city must be cleared, quickly.” 

            Without a second thought Nakajima strode forward and started pushing his way through the crowd. “Let me through!” he said, “I must get to the gate.” 

            “We all need to get to the gate!” someone shouted back, and Nakajima staggered as someone else shoved him back. “Coward!” a peasant woman screamed, clutching an infant and a small child to her. Nakajima stared open-mouthed at the hatred he saw on the faces around him, as the fear that hung in the air began to crystalize into something far uglier.

            “MAKE WAY FOR A PRIEST OF THE ISAWA,” Nobuyuki bellowed out.  He muscled his way next to Nakajima. “A priest of the Isawa comes to confer with your leaders!  Make way!” The yojimbo stepped forward, making shooing motions with his arms.  “Make way for a priest of the Isawa!” he yelled again. “A priest of the Isawa comes to confer with your leaders!” The crowd began to part before him and he moved forward, Nakajima following in his yojimbo’s wake. 

            When they reached the gate the guard captain regarded them with weary respect.  “Greetings, Isawa-sama,” he said. “You and your yojimbo may go through the gate at once, of course.”

            “That is not why I am here,” Nakajima said. “I have come to warn you: some fresh evil has broken out on the plain to the south of here. You must speed up the evacuation of the city.”

            “Isawa-sama,” the captain said, and then seemed to think better of his next words, and started over. “Isawa-sama, I would that we could. But you see we are sending people through the gate as quickly as possible without having them trample each other.”

            Nakajima turned and studied the gate. What the captain said was true; the gate was smaller than the road that led to it, and the guards were doing all that they could to guide the flow of people out without delay or panic. “What if the way were wider?  I could destroy the wall on either side–”

            The captain held up his hands in alarm. “Isawa-sama, no! Please. I have no doubt that you could throw down the walls with but a thought, but it would not be helpful to have a road strewn with rocks and sharp gravel. Worse still, there is sure to be someone out of sight of the gates who will take the noise as a sign of enemy attack, and he will panic everyone around him and start a stampede.  I have seen riots start before. You must believe me about this.”

            Nakajima thought of what he had seen of the crowd’s mood. “I believe you, captain.” He studied the city wall. “That wall looks like it is very well-built,” he said.

            The captain swelled with a bit of civic pride. “You will not find a better wall outside of the Crab lands, Isawa-sama. The Scorpion do not tolerate shoddy workmanship.”

            “Then there is another way,” Nakajima said. “Please clear everyone away from the gate; this should not take long.” He left before the captain could reply, and walked towards the gate. Behind him he could hear Nobuyuki briskly offering his help in carrying out the shugenja’s orders. He smiled, then put the matter out of his mind. What he was about to do demanded both great power and great finesse, all the while dealing with interference of the god-beast’s vile presence. It was fortunate he was here, Nakajima thought, for it was clearly the type of task that required an Isawa.

            He stood in the center of the road, waiting for the guards to finish coaxing the crowd away. Then Nakajima closed his eyes, took a deep breath, centered himself, and began to softly chant a prayer to the earth kami. They were aware of him immediately, and as they focused their attention on him Nakajima felt his nausea double and redouble. He almost collapsed, but he forced his body’s misery into a small corner of his mind and did his best to ignore it. 

            The chant went on, and he could feel the kami slowly begin to understand what he was requesting of them. They were surly about being asked to do anything with the god-beast near, and Nakajima countered by pointing out that his task would be a distraction from the horror in the south. For a time that felt like an infinity to the shugenja the kami resisted his pleas, and then with the suddenness of an avalanche the task was done. Nakajima staggered a bit with the shock of it, then smoothly plunged into the prayers of thanksgiving for their help.

            When Nakajima opened his eyes again the guards were all half-kneeling, bowing to him in the warrior fashion. All the heimin in the crowd were kneeling or bowing as space permitted them, and not a sound came from the mass. Only Nobuyuki stood upright, his sword in his hand and his eyes looking for anything that could have harmed Nakajima while his attention was occupied elsewhere.

            The shugenja glanced to his left and right and smiled. On either side of him the wall had rolled itself up like a paper scroll, widening the way without dislodging a single stone. He raised his hands and addressed the crowd. “People of Ryoko Owari!” he said loudly. “Follow the directions of the city guards, they will make sure you get out safely.  The blessings of the Celestial Heavens be upon you!” He turned and began to walk away.

            Nobuyuki caught up with him after a few strides. “Nakajima-sama, where are you going?  You cannot walk far in this state.”

            “I only need to reach the side of the road,” Nakajima whispered. “Then I can kneel and look benign while my strength comes back.”

            The yojimbo smothered a laugh, then turned serious. “That you are lingering here, and not immediately departing, will help keep the people calm,” he said. 

            Nakajima nodded, but his thoughts were not on Nobuyuki’s words. The god-beast could still be seen in the distance, and the shugenja knew that if the clans could not stop it, his deed would amount to little.         

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The conclusion of the titanic struggle between the armies of the Empire and the monstrous weapon of mass destruction known only as the god-beast.

Wrath of the God-Beast, Part 2

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

When historians would speak of the battle with the god-beast of Kali-ma, they would speak in glowing terms of the skill and prowess of those assembled to fight for the security of the Empire and for the survival of the city of Ryoko Owari Toshi. Many heroes were born that day, and far too many perished on the same day that their legend truly began. If the historians could have watched the battle from above, however, then the tales of its would be far different indeed, for the movement of the Empress’ forces across the battlefield would rival the most intricate and celebrated dances of the Kakita artisans.

As the wave of the great beast’s unholy spawn rushed forth to break the Empire’s lines, a countercharge of heavy Crab infantry surged from the front lines. It was as if a wave had been smashed by a boulder just before it reached shore, with water, foam, and debris cast in all directions. The serpentine demons scattered as the Crab shattered their ranks and split them into multiple directions. Then the Crab parted, forcing the ranks apart and creating a wedge within the twisted creatures’ ranks, a wedge that was promptly struck as the hammer strikes the anvil by an explosive charge by the Unicorn cavalry. The already disoriented creatures were completely scattered by the second charge, broken into three or four different groups, each casting about without direction or leadership. And that was when the Lion regulars moved in, neatly cutting the groups off from one another with line after line of ordered, disciplined troops. Once separated, the enemy was eradicated within mere moments, opening a gigantic hole in the enemy ranks and exposing the god-beast to the forces of the Empire.

The god-beast continued its inexorable advance, seemingly heedless of the slaughter of its minions. Through the constantly expanding holes in the ranks of its forces, a sudden rush of movement, faster even than the Unicorn cavalry, swooped toward it. The power of the Tsunami Legion, an elemental force powered by well-trained shugenja of the Phoenix Clan, assaulted the god-beast’s right flank. The flesh of the creature’s leg flickered once, quickly, like a horse’s flank when bothered by a fly, and then an absent lash of one of its limbs erased the Phoenix attackers from existence, striking them with such force that their armor, their weapons, their very bodies, simply shattered into tiny fragments.

The god-beast continued.

* * * * *

“Fortunes help us,” one of the shugenja whispered. “Taiko’s entire squadron is just… just gone.”

“We will offer prayers for their valor later,” Isawa Kimi said. The Master of the Void had a haunted look in her eyes, but her expression was one of absolute determination. “There is too much for us to do here, and small enough chance of success without succumbing to despair.” She peered carefully at the shugenja who had spoken. “Are you with us, Takashi?”

Isawa Takashi closed his eyes and nodded. “I am with you until the end and beyond, mistress.”

“Thank you, my friend,” she said with a slight smile. She turned to one of the other Phoenix gathered around her, well behind the Empire’s forces. “Gifu-sensei,” she asked quietly. “Are you ready?”

The tiny old woman cackled like a lunatic. “I haven’t been this excited in over a century, lass!” she said with a smile. “Just tell me when to begin!”

“As soon as you are able, thank you,” Kimi said, bowing slightly.

The old woman who was not a woman at all rubbed her hands together briskly and then folded them palm to palm and closed her eyes. She stood unmoving for several long moments before she began to grin again, but her brow was furrowed and sweat began to appear on her forehead. “Ugh,” she panted. “It is… very powerful. Very strong indeed.”

“What is she doing, Kimi-sensei?” one of the others asked.

Kimi turned. “It is difficult to explain, Kumai,” she answered. “For now, sufficed to say she is attempting to tame the bestial spirit of the god-beast.”

Realization dawned in the Phoenix woman’s eyes. “So then we…”

“Yes,” Kimi answered. “While she attempts to suppress the beast, then we shall commune with the Void and attempt to reach the god within it.” She peered up at the monstrosity in the distance. “I hope that some vestige of its mind remains,” she whispered to herself.

“Is it working, Gifu-sama?” one of the other Void shugenja asked.

“It is… a bit early… to tell,” the spirit woman gasped. “I have summoned… an old ally… that I sensed nearby. He can… assist me.”

“How difficult is it?” Agasha Yuhiko asked, his tone eager. “How would you compare it to the volcano?”

“Kumei, please,” Yuhiko interjected.

“It is approximately twice as difficult as a volcano!” Gifu belted out suddenly. “Now hush, you impertinent child! An elder is working!”

Yuhiko shrank in horror, but Kimi reached her hand toward him and the others. “Come,” she said. “It is time to be one with the Void.”

* * * * *

Butaru stood very still in the darkened building, his own breath deafeningly loud in his ears as he tried not to move or make any sound. He clutched a tonfa to his chest, but its value as a weapon was long since forgotten, and he held it to his chest as a child might clutch a favorite bed-thing, to keep the shadows at bay. Outside, such a short distance away, he heard something moving, sliding with a sickening sound like a large serpent, and heard a cart overturn in the street. He bit his lip to keep from letting a panicked scream slip out.

“A difficult situation, is it not?”

Butaru could not keep from a terrified squeal as he hurled himself to the floor with a thud. He waited for death, but nothing happened for several seconds, and finally he opened his eyes.

A woman in a mixture of bright blue and black was standing over him. “Difficult,” she repeated. “I have been in many such positions before.”

“Please be quiet!” Butaru hissed. “It will hear us!”

“They, not it,” the woman corrected. “But they will not hear us at the moment. I can prevent that, at least.”

Butaru frowned. “Are you a priestess?” He glanced at the swords on her hip.

“Not really,” she said. Butaru noticed now that there were three other men standing behind her. They looked almost as worried as he was. “I simply… know a few tricks.”

“We have to get out of here!” Butaro hissed. “Please, milady, we have to leave!” He tore at his own hair. “Oh Fortunes, why did I stay? I am a fool!”

“Probably,” the woman admitted. “But I know why you stayed. You stayed because you saw an opportunity. You saw a chance to claim the wealth left behind by those who fled, and that overpowered your fear.” She paused, tilting her head to the side. “Is your fear stronger now?”

Butaro ripped a small pouch from his belt and threw it to the ground, sending silver coins scattering in every direction. “The money means nothing if I die!”

“But what if you don’t?” she asked. “Are there not things more important than money? Don’t you want to be forgotten as a thief and a criminal, and be known as a hero? What greater reward can there be than adulation? What could not be yours for the taking if you are one of the heroes who saved the city?” She smiled. “Think of the rewards.”

Butaro licked his lips. He looked up at the others following the woman. He knew two of them. Criminals, both of them. Scum. Probably the same thing that people said about him. But perhaps not any longer. “Heroes,” he muttered.

The woman smiled and nodded. She looked at the others and saw the same thing in their eyes. Coins. Power. Women. Everything they wanted, if they were simply willing to take it.

Butaro nodded slowly. He rose and hefted his tonfa. “I am ready,” he said. “How many are there?”

“Two outside,” the woman said. “Go now. Become what you’ve always desired.”

Butaro grinned and turned to move to the door, the other three close behind.

Kakita Kensho-in rolled her eyes slightly as the men departed. She had not lied, not really. They would be remembered as heroes who aided in defending the city, and their families, what little they had, would benefit enormously from it. That the men would not live to enjoy the spoils of their efforts was of little concern. What use was reincarnation if it was not taken advantage of, after all?

* * * * *

            Shimekiri moved through the wasted battlefield like a god of war, intent upon his prey. He paid no heed to the corpses at his feet. The dead were as nothing to him, and the living little more than that. It was the battle that mattered. The enemy at hand, the perfect moment of a flawless strike and absolute victory. That was all that mattered, that and nothing else.

            Something clutched at his ankle.

            The swordsman looked down, his grip on his blade tightening in anticipation of a swift and perfect stroke ending this distraction, but the fierce countenance of the man at his feet stayed his hand for the moment.

            The man in the dirt was battered, his armor shattered and torn, his body drenched in blood despite that he had only a few wounds. His face was a mask of anger and determination. “Help me up, you damned simpleton Crane!” he snarled. “There is work to be done!”

            “I am not Crane,” Shimekiri answered.

            “You could have fooled me,” the man with the Crab mon spat. “You look the very…” his voice trailed off as his eyes lingered on the men following Shimekiri, and the goblin that numbered among them. “You are worse than Crane,” he finally said, spitting blood to the side and releasing the Spider’s leg. “I should cut this hand off for having touched you.”

            “You are bold, for one in your position,” Shimekiri observed. “Do you not wish to beg for your life? Why should I spare a Crab?”

            “I am Hida Fubatsu,” the man said with a snarl. “And if I valued my life so little to beg a piece of filth like you, then I do not deserve to live.”

            Shimekiri’s expression did not change, but he nodded in the slightest gesture of respect. “Your wounds are not severe. You will live.”

            “I do not need you to tell me that!” Fubatsu roared. “I am Crab! No gaijin demon can kill me!” He glanced in the direction that the Spider marched, and his brow furrowed. “You… march against the beast?”

            “I march to kill it,” Shimekiri said.

            Fubatsu’s anger dimmed for a moment, then his face twisted in hatred. “Damnation!” he said, striking the ground with his fist. He held a blade up. “Take this.”

            Shimekiri took it. “The craftsmanship is… perfect.”

            “Take it and cut that accursed beast!” Fubatsu shouted. “And get out of my sight before I change my mind!”

* * * * *

Shiba Yoshimi helped Isawa Mitsuko as the two moved toward the ritual circle Isawa Kimi and her acolytes had created. The four of them sat facing one another, perfectly positions in the northern, southern, eastern and western facings. Nearby, Agasha Gifu stood with her hands folded, her face a mask of concentration and discomfort. As the two Phoenix approached their kinsmen, a man in Mantis colors arrived as well, seemingly just materializing from the fog that had sprung up around the four Phoenix involved in the ritual. “I believe I made it clear that I no longer wish to speak with you,” the Mantis said quietly. He bore the mon of a fox over his heart.

“Now is not the time, Mizuru!” Gifu said. “I need your help!”

The man shook his head and looked around nervously. To Yoshimi he appeared tensed as if ready to flee. For some reason the image of a fox with its tail flickering nervously floated into Yoshimi’s mind. “I turned my back on that life,” he began.

Gifu’s eyes popped open. They were no longer even vaguely human. “Do you see what is taking place here?” she demanded. “You will turn your back on all life! Of all kinds! Now help me!”

The man bearing a Kitsune mon frowned, but stepped forward and placed his hands over Gifu’s, then closed his eyes. “What is going on?” Yoshimi asked the Master of Air.

“Hard to understand the ways of the spirits,” she replied, her voice exhausted.

Yoshimi frowned, but nodded. “Rest here,” he said, lowering her gently to the ground.

“I will be fine,” she insisted. “See to the others.”

Yoshimi moved toward Kimi, but stopped several paces away. Her eyes had gone completely black, and her mouth twitched every few seconds as if in some semblance of speech. “My lady,” he said in a very quiet voice, “are you well?” He waited several moments, looking for any sign that she could hear him. For any sign that she was in distress. Finally, frowning, he reached out with a tentative hand to touch her shoulder ever so lightly.

Another hand seized his wrist with a grip like iron. “I would not do that.”

Yoshimi looked up at the tattooed man who had appeared beside him without so much as a whisper. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“I am Togashi Akagi,” the monk replied. “You do not understand the intricacies of the Void. Do not touch her. To do so would imperil her very soul.”

“Her body and soul are mine to safeguard. Do not question the execution of my duty.”

Akagi gave him a contemptuous smirk. “Do not succumb to such arrogance, brother. Are the Shiba no better than that?” The grip on his wrist tightened painfully. “Do not touch her,” he repeated.

Yoshimi growled and looked to Kimi. “I will not touch her, but not for your sake. For hers.”

“Very well then,” Akagi said, releasing him. “I must return to the battle.”

Yoshimi nodded. As the monk turned to go, he added “Do not step between my charge and I again, monk. It will be your end.”

Akagi glanced over his shoulder, chuckling. “Will it?”

“Yes,” Yoshimi said. His gaze did not waver, and he paid no mind to the swimming motion of the tattoos across the monk’s back.

The monk chuckled again. “Perhaps it will,” he said. “We shall see, I suppose.”

* * * * *

            The Spider forces grew nearer to the beast, and only narrowly avoided a casual strike that devastated an entire company who fought only a few hundred meters away from them. “It is… beyond thought,” the sergeant who had abused the goblin scout only a short time ago said, his voice low and awestruck. “We cannot fight such a thing.”

            Shimekiri backhanded the man, cracking his helmet and spinning him around twice before he hit the ground, unmoving. A tiny giggle escaped the goblin’s mouth, and he stared up at the swordsman with undisguised adulation. “We kill the beast,” he said. “Whatever it takes.”

            “I do not wish to draw your ire, my lord,” another of the armored men said, stepping forward, “but do you have a plan? We will do whatever you say, but it is our hope that you will not throw our lives away on a meaningless gesture.”

            “That would be a waste,” Shimekiri said flatly. He withdrew a small clay bottle from his belt. “This will end the beast, or at least weaken it enough that it can be killed.” He stabbed the blade the Crab had given him into the ground and held the bottle aloft. “This was granted to me by Lord Daigotsu. It contains the blood of our god Fu Leng. If introduced to the beast, it will weaken him. Perhaps kill him.”

            “How can we know for sure?” the man asked.

            “We cannot,” Shimekiri said. “We must have faith.”

            “Put blood on weapon?” Gakku asked. “Stab beast?”

            “If we must,” the swordsman said. “If we can find a way to get it into the beast’s system more directly, that would be better. That seems impossible, however.”

            “Not impossible!” Gakku shouted. Quick as lightning, he grabbed the bottle from Shimekiri and ran toward the beast. The swordsman’s inhuman speed was a fraction of a moment too slow to capture the little beast, and the goblin’s hair slipped through his fingers as he unleashed a brief shout of rage and surprise.

            The goblin deftly crossed the field and leapt to dig its talons into the flesh of the god-beast’s leg. It scurried up the thing’s leg, its presence too little to attract the beast’s attention. It took longer than seemed possible, with Gakku making his way with the benefit of occasional Tsuruchi arrows that were lodged throughout the things flesh. He drew nearer and nearer to its maw, the bottle held gently in its teeth.

            In Gakku’s mind there were images of Daigotsu, praising the name Gakku, welcoming the little being into the Spider as a hero and a veteran. It was all the scout could do to keep the smile from causing the bottle to slip. As he grew closer, he smelled the fetid stench of the thing’s breath, and he lifted the bottle, yanking the stopper out. “For Spider!” he screamed.

            In the distance, Shimekiri watched in mute horror as the god-beast flicked its head like a cow might, and watched as the tiny speck that was on its cheek was hurled into the air. Almost as an afterthought, the beast raised its head and snapped the tiny gnat-like thing up, the speck disappearing instantly.

            “We are undone,” Shimekiri said morosely.

* * * * *

            Kimi was one with all, and one with nothing.

            Often she had drifted beyond the veil of the Void, swimming in the emptiness between the spaces of all things. This time she had sojourned farther than ever before, farther than she would have dared under different circumstances. Her acolytes anchored her, adding their power to her own, tethering her to the mortal realm despite the distance she swam through to the other side. She could no longer feel anything of the world, only the strength of her acolytes, a beacon that she could use to return when her work was finished.

            If it could, in fact, be finished.

            The raging, animal presence that filled the Void in this place, that leaked from the very pores of the god-beast’s flesh, had at last abated and receded. Its attention was centered in the mortal realm, both by the battle it faced, inconsequential as it might be, and the efforts of the spirit that called itself Agasha Gifu. In the absence of the beast’s rage, there was something else, something that Kimi must reach if there was any chance for the day to be won. It was nothing more than a spark. A sliver of light. A memory.

            Can you understand me? Kimi called with her mind through the Void.

            There was no actual response, but after what seemed like hours, there was a tiny flicker of awareness.

            Praise the Fortunes, Kimi thought/spoke. She felt like weeping, but dared not let her focus waver for even a moment. I know that you are there. I know that there is something left, something remaining of what you were before the Destroyer wrought her horrors upon you. Please, I need you to come back. I need your understanding.

            Again, the delay was considerable. Finally, there was another flicker of awareness, but nothing more than basic emotion. Fear. Regret. And desire. A longing more powerful than anything Kimi had ever felt. It washed over her like an ocean, staggering her.

            I know what you want, she thought/spoke to the entity. I would give anything if I could restore you. What was done to you, even a gaijin deity, should never have taken place. Nothing divine deserves such a fate. But I cannot restore you. There is not enough remaining. What you were, what once was, cannot be remade. Your presence is forever lost.

            Pain. Loss. Anger. Pain. So much pain. And then, after a long while of pain, there was something else. Something pleading. Something pitiful and terrible.

            Kimi lowered her head. If that is what you wish, then yes. You are a god, and beyond that which I know, but there is so little left of you… yes. Yes, we can unmake what remains. We can set you free.

            Rage. Pain.

            Acceptance.

            I am sorry, Kimi said. Please, forgive me.

* * * * *

The beast staggered and nearly fell, despite that there were no obvious attacks that had struck anything vital. It shook its head and roared, this time in surprise and pain, sounds that the assembled armies had not heard, but which all instantly recognized as a moment of opportunity.

Horiuchi Nobane’s face was streaked with white paint and the blood of the countless foes he had slain. Even the blood of the beast itself stained the hem of his kimono, as he had launched more than one successful strike against the thing’s flank and lived. He screamed in fury as he led his men to the charge, silently begging his ancestors to grant him a glorious death so that he could join his them.

Togashi Kaelung ground his teeth against the pain as he launched flurry after flurry of attacks against the beast’s inhumanly resilient flesh, flesh that had destroyed his trusted axe hours earlier. Before, it had been like striking steel. Now, it was as striking stone, but there was some yield, and the thing’s flesh first discolored and then began to bleed. The monk was certain that his hands were broken, but he would not stop, not until it was dead.

Daigotsu Shimekiri said nothing as he cut the beast again and again, marveling privately at the quality of the Crab’s steel. Huge hunks of flesh fell to the ground, staining it black with gallon upon gallon of blood. The beast’s death was his masterpiece, his crowning achievement, the most flawless of all victories.

The beast raged and stomped its feet, its legs completely stained with its blood as its tiny enemies carved away at its flesh mercilessly. Its wrath truly aroused, it took a terrible toll, destroying legions with its mad flailing, but each move was slower, each attack slightly less potent. The thing began to pale from blood loss, no longer caring that it trod upon a field littered with hundreds or thousands of dead.

The beast staggered, and it fell.

            Gakku the goblin screamed its throat hoarse, stopping only to draw deep, ragged breaths and spit out the thick ichor that kept filling its mouth. The bottle had been forgotten, dropped somewhere as it entered the beast’s maw, and if he had contemplated the matter at all, the goblin would have realized he could not be certain if the bottle had even entered the beast’s mouth in the first place.

            The crude blade he carried saved Gakku from a terrible descent into the beast’s stomach, and he hacked away mercilessly at the roof of the beast’s mouth, desperate to try and escape. He tore through the roof of the mouth, nearly drowning himself in a torrent of blood and bile, choking on it but fighting his way to the top, crawling out of the mouth. The strange crystal pendant that he wore, the one that he had found in the rubbish bin near the Fingers of Bone, glowed slightly, allowing him to see ever so slightly the nightmare that surrounded him.

            The red gave way to a sickly gray, and the torrent of blood changed in consistency.

            Gakku screamed a strangled cry and redoubled his efforts to escape.

* * * * *

            The unholy thing was done. Kimi sensed the beast dying, but that no longer mattered to her. The thing she had done, the unmaking she had performed, was blasphemy by any measure of the word. It mattered not to her if the thing she had helped to die was a Fortune or some ancient gaijin god whose name she had never heard. She had aided in its death, and though it had been a mercy, she felt sure her soul was imperiled. She was lost.

            The grief she felt was overwhelming. She was lost not only metaphorically but literally. In her pain, in her guilt, she could no longer sense her acolytes. Their light was gone, and she could not find it. She was adrift in the Void. In the emptiness that was all things and nothing.

            Sensation.

            There was a sense of a hand on her shoulder, and a gentle push. She was drifting then, washed away in the Void. There was a pinprick of light, a tiny flame like a candle on the horizon, and she moved toward it. She could sense them. The acolytes.

            There was a shimmering for a moment, as if something was within the Void with her, and she saw a face. A familiar face. It smiled, and she felt his love for her one last time.

            Kimi wept again, this time with joy.

* * * * *

Togashi Kaelung lay dying on the field of battle. There were no shouts of victory that he could hear, no cries of mourning. He had heard a sound, a terrible noise that could only be the beast’s death cry, and felt the unbelievable impact that could only have been its fall to the ground. Then there had been nothing. Kaelung wondered if the sound had made him deaf, but that did not matter. Soon he would be dead, and all else would fade away. The ground beneath him was already wet with his blood. There was not much left to lose, he thought. Kaelung thought for a moment of all the men he had seen die. They had all reacted differently, but some had passed without regret, with a certain serenity that he had always strived to achieve in life. He envied those men. That was not his fate, it seemed.

There was a rustling near him, and Kaelung saw a faint green glow at the edge of his vision. “Togashi Kaelung,” a voice said near his ear. “You have fought valiantly today. Your heroism is an inspiration to those who have seen you on the field of battle. The darkness in your spirit has never dimmed the light of your being.” A beautiful woman with wild hair floated in the edge of his vision, extending her hand to him. The hand was what glowed so brilliantly. “Take my hand, Kaelung. Be born again and change the world by your example.”

Kaelung stared at Matsu Benika for a moment, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He struggled for the strength to reach for her, but at the same time he became aware of shadows pooling on the opposite side.

“Is that really what you want?” a seductive whisper issued in his ear. “Do you want to be looked upon as an example, as a hero? Think of the burden that comes with it. Remember instead when you wandered the Empire, enacting your own will to achieve your own ends. Your own selfishness, your wrath, your power… you tapped into it and made it your own. You were no one’s man but your own. Think of what you could accomplish if you but returned to those days.” A dark and beautiful woman, Kakita Kensho-in, floated on the opposite side, her shadowed hand extended to him as well. “Join me, and we can shape the fate of men without the strength to find their own path.”

Kaelung glanced from one to the other, incapable of speaking for the moment. He closed his eyes, and reached out one hand.

* * * * *

The battle was long since over, and the massive corpse of the god-beast lay unmoving on the earth, its form partially driven into the ground by its own weight as it fell dead upon the ground. For several hours, large numbers of samurai stood guard against it to ensure that it would not rise again, but finally even they had retreated to the city to tend their wounds. Shugenja were stationed periodically around its edge, preparing for the ritual of unprecedented size that would take place at dawn to immolate the thing, keeping watch for any sign of life, but there was none. The beast was dead.

But there was life still within it.

Late in the night, when the shugenja were deep within their meditations, there was a tiny twitch of movement from the beast’s head. It was nothing to speak of, almost imperceptible from a distance greater than a few dozen feet, but if one had been standing upon the beast’s leathery hide, the sensation would have been unmistakable. Moments later, it came again, and then again only a few moments after that. It increased in frequency and strength, coming faster and faster until, finally, the flesh of the beast’s head tore and shattered with a sound like dry wood underfoot.

Something emerged from deep within the recesses of the beast’s skull. It bore no resemblance to anything that had ever walked the Empire before. It was taller than a man, and wider again by half. Its arms were tipped with deadly talons, and its mouth ran freely with the blood of the divine on which it had gorged itself. Large, muscular growths emerged from its sides beneath its arms, looking for all in the world like a new pair of arms growing from its ribs.

The beast panted and wiped the blood from its mouth, snarling at the discomfort from having to eat its way free. It flexed its new form, growling at the subsiding pain of transformation.

“Gakku,” it whispered, speaking its own name in a struggle to remember. The images that flooded its mind were not its own, but visions induced by the consumption of the god-beast’s flesh. It shook its head, trying to force the false memories from its mind.

“Daigotsu!” it whispered. “Kali-ma!”

The beast lumbered into the night.

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The assembled armies of the Empress stand at the line south of Ryoko Owari Toshi, prepared to pay any price to stop the inexorable advance of the god-beast.  But Kali-ma’s greatest weapon has not yet revealed all of its secrets…

Wrath of the God-Beast, Part 1

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

There were screams of alarm as the people of Ryoko Owari Toshi filed through the streets, passing through the gates of the city and into the plains beyond. The members of the Thunder Guard, the city’s elite guardians, worked hand in hand with the firemen gangs that they so often opposed. The traditional enemies had put aside their rivalries and now struggled to evacuate the city as rapidly as they could. Now and again one of the simple folk being led from the city would glance to the south and see the massive form on the horizon that lumbered toward them, and a fresh wave of screams would begin.

            Three men sat atop their horses south of the city, hundreds of armed and armored samurai massing around them. The stared to the south without fear. “The beast does not slow,” Akodo Shigetoshi said.

            Shinjo Dun’s expression did not change. “If Yu-Pan-sama’s flanking maneuver cannot slow it, then it cannot be slowed. She is the finest cavalry officer that lives.”

            “Not for much longer if the beast cannot be stopped,” Hida Benjiro added solemnly.

            “Then let us end its threat,” Shigetoshi said firmly. “This far, brothers, and no farther.” He say higher in the saddle and raised his voice so that it would carry to the other soldiers assembled near them. “Today, we kill a god!”

            The roar of the army was deafening.

            In the south, the god-beast continued.

* * * * *

The tiny goblin peeked carefully over the edge of the riverbed where he was secreted. He quavered slightly at the sheer number of samurai that he saw massing for battle to the northeast, but he did not succumb to the urge to run. He glanced all along the horizon, lingering for a moment on the enormity of the god-beast that lumbered in their direction. Then he ducked back down.

“How many?” the gunso demanded.

“Don’t know,” the goblin said, shaking his head sadly. “Can’t count so high. Too many!”

“Useless!” The man kicked at the goblin. “Why you were ever permitted to serve as a scout I cannot comprehend!”

“Makishi,” a quiet voice said. “Shut your mouth or I will take your head.”

The gunso turned toward the voice, eyes blazing, but shrank instantly when he saw who had spoken. “I… yes, Shimekiri-sama,” he said quietly.

The dark swordsman lifted his head to stare at the approaching monstrosity, apparently heedless of the danger of exposure. “Our time comes shortly.”

The cowed gunso frowned. “My lord, how… how can we attack the thing among so many enemies? They will destroy us on sight.”

“They will not,” Daigotsu Shimekiri said. “In a few moments, they will need all the assistance that we can offer.”

The gunso shook his head. “I do not understand.”

The swordsman looked at him with a completely disgusted expression. “Of course you do not. You are a simpleton.” He turned back toward the south. “Can you not smell it on the air? “ He nodded toward the god-beast. “Something different is coming.”

Gakku looked up at the dark man in awe, and shivered.

* * * * *

“The beast approaches!” the Lion officer roared. “Lord Shigetoshi needs men willing to face and fell it! Who among you is ready?”

The men clamored and readied their weapons, preparing for the advance toward the mountainous foe in the distance. Ikoma Noda smiled and lifted the war banner high into the air, shouting about the pride of their ancestors on such a day. He was in the midst of a tale of the Lion Champion who had marched into the Shadowlands to slay countless foes when the shuddering of the ground and the periodic report of the beast’s footfalls suddenly and abruptly stopped.

The entire army assembled south of the city stopped and stood, staring at their distant enemy. The beast had stopped and stood immobile. Then, slowly, it panned its head left to right, as if surveying what was arrayed against it. Those assembled did not move, nor speak, or hardly even breathe; so far as any of them knew, it was the first time the beast had displayed any sort of reaction to the forces of Rokugan other than a slightly annoyed response to attack. Now, it simply stood. Again, slowly, it shifted its weight to the right side and lifted its powerful limbs, then brought them down with astonishing force.

Despite that the god-beast was yet miles away, many among the assembled forces struggled to maintain their footing with the massive tremors that the beast’s action unleashed. Nearer to the creature, a massive chasm was torn in the earth, a gulf the likes of which did not exist outside the most jagged and quake-torn regions of the Spine of the World mountains. The dust cloud that was thrown into the sky dimmed the mid-day sun until it was as twilight. And then, just as the air began to clear, there was movement from the chasm itself.

Things began to emerge. They were horrible to look upon, serpentine in nature but with heavily armored carapaces protecting their upper body and two long, insectile arms that ended not with hands, but with foot-long claws that seemed more like blades. The lower jaw was slightly wider than the top, leading to a gaping, terrible maw that was large enough to consume a warrior’s head in one bite. At first there were only a few, then dozens, and then hundreds of the creatures swarming up from the chasm. The din of their war cries seemed nearly silent in the wake of the thunderous report of the beast’s crashing steps, but it was audible just the same.

“What… why are there demons beneath the Scorpion lands?” Noda heard one of the officers ask the nearby Kitsu priest.

“They were not,” the priest answered mournfully. “The beast has summoned them. It is perhaps a defense of some sort.”

If the commander had an answer to that, it was never spoken, as the swarms of creatures from the chasm suddenly began their serpent-like gait toward the assembled armies. And their rate of movement was vastly faster than that of the god-beast.

            Noda stared in horror at the wave of abominations that swarmed from the earth and moved toward them. The task before them had been all but impossible when it was simply the god-beast alone, but now? Now he did not know what to do. As if from a great distance he heard the officer shouting commands to the men assembled behind him, and he heard them moving to assume a new formation, but without looking he knew that their spirits were troubled. They were Lion, and they would never break, but this was a blow to their morale such as he had never known, and he did not know what to do. There were no words for something like this.

            A hand closed over Noda’s where he held the banner.

            Noda turned slowly, his eyes lingering on the doom before them, he gaze finally tearing away from it toward the strange green glow in the periphery of his vision. The hand that held his was brilliant green, so pure that it was almost painful to look upon. The woman to whom the hand was attached stood beside him, her eyes boring into his very soul. The warcats loitering in her wake were almost imperceptible for the sheer force of her presence. Moments ago they had not been there, but now they stood at the fore of the Lion forces. “Noda,” she said, her voice at once quiet and as strong as steel. “The men are ready. They need you.”

            “Yes,” he said, his voice scarcely above a whisper. “Yes!” he said louder. He turned to the men, his eyes blazing. “The god-beast fears us!” he roared. “It fears the Lion, as all things that live should! It sends its pawns to stop us, but we will not be stopped! We will litter the path of the beast with the dead, and burn their foul corpses as a monument to the enormity of the task once we have slain the beast!”

            The men lifted their weapons and roared their responses, shifting quickly and smoothly into the proper formation. Noda could see their grip on their weapons, the eagerness in their eyes. They were ready for battle, ready for death if need be, and Noda was ready to fight and die with them.

            He looked for Matsu Benika, the Jade Hand, but she had moved on. Somewhere else along the front lines, he heard another roar of victory, and he knew that her work was not yet finished.

* * * * *

            The forces of the Empire and the chasm-spawn collided like two storms, crashing into one another with a cacophony of violence and death that could scarcely be rivaled with only human opponents. The measured skill and fearlessness of the samurai was a match for the sheer number of their opponents, but the surprising resilience of the demons evened the struggle. The ever-closer form of the god-beast behind the enemy’s lines also complicated the struggle considerably.

            Tsuruchi Shisuken was keenly aware of all these factors as he fired arrow after arrow into the horde, trying to thin it as much as possible in order to break the lines so that the army could press forward to intercept the god-beast before it grew too close to the city. He grimaced as he fired his forty-first arrow, and wondered if the six quivers allocated to him would be sufficient.

            Shisuken halted in mid-draw before firing his next arrow. Something appeared in his field of vision, and he risked a glance to the riverbed. A force of men, some two or perhaps three dozen at most, leapt up from their place of concealment and charged the flank of the creatures, breaking through the horde’s front line and plummeting into their midst. For the moment, their actions were lost upon Shisuken, however, as he fixated on one thing and one thing only: the image of a man he had seen in his mind’s eye one thousand times over after their one and only meeting. It was the man who had assassinated Moshi Amika during the night when so many prominent figures across the Empire had perished. It had been years before now, but Shisuken had not forgotten. The man had killed his charge, and he would never forget.

            Shisuken pivoted and followed the new target, preparing to fire. He had fired upon the same man only once before, and while he had been certain at the time that he had landed a killing blow, the man’s body had never been found. Shisuken never missed, and the double shame of the man’s escape and filled him with rage such as he had never known. This was the chance to avenge it.

            “Who are those men?” one of the archers next to him bellowed.

            “I do not know, but their charge is disrupting the beasts’ line and allowing our forces to push ahead!” their commander said. “Fire to support!”

            Shisuken’s arrow shook ever so slightly as he struggled with the rage burning in his chest. This might be the only chance he ever had to end the shame that he and he alone attached to his name as a result of that night. This might be the only chance for revenge.

            “Shisuken!” his commander shouted. “What is wrong with you? Fire!”

            With a strangled growl, Shisuken pivoted away from the target and fired into the mass of demons, hitting one directly in the throat. “When this is over, your life is mine!” he hissed to his distant opponent, not caring that he could not hear him.

* * * * *

“Back to back, men!” Mirumoto Kenzo bellowed over the clamor of the creatures they fought. “We did not travel so far just to fall to these beasts! We must win the day and return home to kill more Yobanjin!”

The Dragon officer’s men shouted in answer to his goading, some even chuckling, but Kenzo knew that their situation was dire. The beasts had broken the line near where they stood, and they were cut off from the main force. An isolated unit had poor chances for survival in situations such as these, and Kenzo knew all too well what the likely outcome would be. The whispers in the back of his mind, whispers he had learned to ignore under all circumstances save for battle, called out to him to succumb to the rage and bloodlust, but he knew that nothing good could come of such things. He remained in control of himself and struggled to find a way to lead his men to safety.

A blurry form vaulted over Kenzo and his men to land amid the demons facing the Dragon officer. There was still more blurred movement, and two of the things were cast away in opposite directions as if struck by a Unicorn steed moving at full gallop. Where they had once stood, a tattooed monk was in their place. “Good day, Mirumoto-sama!” he said, his face completely calm as he punched through the thick carapace of another creature, killing it instantly. “I thought perhaps you might require assistance.”

“My thanks, brother,” Kenzo shouted, “but unless you brought your entire monastery, I think you may have overestimated your abilities.”

The monk did not smile. “My fellow monks have pressing matters to attend to elsewhere, I fear, but do not be concerned; I did not come alone.”

There were more flurries of movement, this time among the ranks of the creatures, and this time black and crimson where the monk’s had been green and gold. As Kenzo watched, more than two dozen of the demons ahead of them seemed to simply fall to pieces in a shower of gore and viscera. With the way thinned, Kenzo could see the way back to the primary formation, where the armies of the Empress stood against the gaijin demons.

Togashi Osawa smiled ever so slightly. “Our allies among the Scorpion,” he explained. “They are called the Shadow Blades, and I understand they have a great deal of experience against the Destroyers and the plague-ridden. They are rarely seen save by their enemies, it appears.”

“Well if you see them,” Kenzo said, “please extend my gratitude.” He gestured to his men. “Charge, men! Let us clear the way and rejoin our comrades!”

* * * * *

            Well behind the front lines, where no one was free to see it, there was a shimmering in the air, and then the wind began to increase in strength. It grew stronger with each passing minute, spinning in a tight circle like a miniature cyclone, picking up debris and loose earth until its center could not be seen. Once opaque, it persisted only for a handful of seconds, and then died down as if it had never been. Within the space formerly obscured by the storm stood a dozen men and women. Six of them formed a circle facing outward, and with the cessation of the storm, five of those collapsed to the ground, unconscious. The sixth staggered and dropped to one knee, but did not fall.

            “Lady Mitsuko!” One of those within the circle, an armored warrior, stepped forward to hold the woman’s arm.

            Isawa Mitsuko, the Elemental Master of Air, struggled to catch her breath. “I… I am sorry. Forgive me, but… the kami, they demand… quite a price for such a ritual.” The inquisitor reached up and brushed a lock of hair, once the most brilliant black and now shot through very slightly with grey, back from her face. “I need a moment.”

            Another woman in the garb of an Elemental Master stepped forward. “You and your acolytes have done all that we could ask and more, Mitsuko-sama. Rest now. Let us handle this.” She nodded to the armored man. “Yoshimi, remain with them.”

            The man looked up sharply. “My place is with you.”

            Isawa Kimi shook her head. “Not this time, friend. Stay.” She turned to the others. “Are you ready?”

            One of them shook his head. “Look at the size of it,” he said in awe. “How can we fight something like that?”

            Another laughed. She was a tiny old woman, and it was a strange, cackling sound. “Is it harder to stop than a volcano, little ones? No? Then stand aside, and let Agasha Gifu show you what has to be done.”

TO BE CONTINUED

Discuss the events of this fiction in our Story Forum!

An examination of the activities of some of the Empress’ greatest servants, the Jeweled Champions.

Tactical Redeployment

By Rusty Priske

Edited by Fred Wan

There were disadvantages to being Yoritomo Sachina, and she knew them too well. Paramount among these problems was that there were times that she might have wished to move across a room without drawing the attention of others arrayed there. That was impossible.

Despite this small hardship, Sachina did not wish it to be otherwise. She had worked hard to ensure that hers was one of the foremost names on the lips of court, and if that meant she had to take further steps to ensure private matters stayed private, well, that was an acceptable cost.

Today, for example, Sachina wished an audience with the Amethyst Champion. The risk that her request would be rebuffed was too great and to have that lay exposed for the courts to whisper behind her back would not do. There were other ways for her to achieve her goals.

Finding out when her quarry left her chambers was simple. It took no more than a smile and lowered eyes with a quickly smitten underling. Knowing where this wandering would lead her, and whether the stroll served any other purpose, took promises of a more concrete nature. That was also simple since the promises were made to one who would be soon reassigned back to the Mantis Isles due to her lack of discretion.

Sachina never made promises that cost her anything in the delivery.

The rock garden near the Otomo building was simple, and not a common location for casual wanderings. It exuded neither the beauty of some of the Crane-tended gardens or the spiritual complexity of those designed by the various monks in residence. This lack of conventional drawing points made the place perfect for Yoritomo Yoyonagi when she wanted time alone. The arrangement of the stones may have had some special significance to the Otomo who laid them out, but to the Mantis it was just a reminder of the rocks on the shore near her home.

Sachina stepped carefully along the narrow path and spoke before Yoyonagi looked up. “What a surprise to find you here, on such a morning, Yoyonagi-san. I had thought your duties gave you no time for yourself.”

Sachina’s words were met with a warm smile and cold eyes. “Good morning, Sachina-san. My duties do keep me quite busy, which is why I consider my time alone to be so valuable. I am sure you would agree.”

“Of course.” Sachina paid no attention to the underlying message of Yoyonagi’s words and sat on a low bench, opposite her clan-mate. “I know only too well the weight of duty for the Amethyst Champion. It is amazing that you can find any time at all.”

Yoyonagi’s eyebrow raised. “You know the weight of the mantle, do you? I was not aware that you had strong ties to my predecessor, Isawa Sawao.”

“I did not mean direct experience, of course. We both know that I decided that my skills were best utilized with the Mantis delegation. I am only saying that you must be very busy indeed if the head of your own clan’s delegation is unable to arrange an audience.”

“I always have time for the head of the Mantis delegation. I am keenly aware of the importance of that position, but my current duties keep my days much more filled.”

Sachina smirked slightly as she rebutted, “That may have been true when you held the post, Yoyonagi-san, but the Mantis have risen in importance within the courts, as I am sure you will agree, so I truly understand how difficult it is to juggle all the demands on your time. Ever since I assisted in securing the Amethyst Championship for you, I have worked diligently to ensure that the Mantis delegation has been well represented in the courts. We are both very busy women.”

“As you say.” Yoyonagi casually stretched, as if she had been sitting too long. “I will indicate that your request for a meeting is to be prioritized. I am certain that in a few days there will be an opening – maybe a week at the outside.”

“There is no need.” Sachina smiled, with just an air of smugness. “What I wish to discuss will only take a moment and since we are both here anyway, why disrupt your carefully managed schedule?”

Yoyonagi suppressed a sigh. “Why indeed? Still, I must not be too long. These stolen moments are brief, I am afraid.”

“I understand completely. What I wish to discuss is to your benefit, however, so I am certain you would want to fit it in.” Sachina paused, waiting for a reaction.

“Continue.”

“Word has reached my ears that you have been speaking in various other ears about expediting a reinforcement request. Pardon me if this sounds ludicrous, but well placed sources have convinced me that you have been trying to have a unit of Emerald Magistrates reassigned to the Scorpion lands. This sounded preposterous to me as interfering in anything under the influence of Shosuro Jimen would not seem to be a strong decision for one already risking irrelevance.”

“Irrelevance? Are you projecting, Sachina-san? Jealousy does not become you.”

Sachina chuckled mirthlessly. “If I had wanted that position… in fact, we may have been better off if I had taken that position and left you as delegation head, despite the initial losses that would have entailed. The court knows full well that the Empress, when she was simply Kitsuki Iweko, had her run-ins with you. Even though her celestial person would be beyond a simple grudge, it puts the Amethyst Champion in an awkward position when she cannot count on the support of the Empress.”

Yoyonagi’s mouth hardened into a line. Her voice steeled as well. “The Empress has shown no indication that she thinks any less of me for our history together.”

Sachina shook her head. “Of course not, but she doesn’t need to. The fact that the history exists and that the court knows it is enough. A potential loss of political sway can be every bit as damaging as an actual loss. Rumors are often self-fulfilling.”

Yoyonagi stood, her back stiff. “I thank you for your warning, Sachina-san. I also thank you for talking to me now so there is no need to find a spot for you on my schedule.”

Sachina followed suit. “I only spoke for your good and the good of the Mantis. Do not interfere in the machinations of Shosuro Jimen. No good can come from it.”

“Oh? It seems that the rumors do not give you all the information that you think they do.” Yoyonagi practically sneered as she spoke. “Let us just say that someone were to discover a request from the Kuni Daigo for reinforcements at his position on the line. Let us then say that the request was brought to the attention of Yasuki Miliko, who happens to be the Ruby Champion, which also makes her the sensei for the Emerald Magistrates. She would certainly want to take a contingent of magistrates with her to answer that request, but her current orders would not allow it. Then, still just as a matter of discussion, her desires were brought to the attention of Shosuro Jimen, who has the power to order these particular Emerald Magistrates to deploy wherever he wishes. It just so happens that the area where the Jade Champion wished to have more troops is in Scorpion lands, where the home of the Emerald Champion is being threatened. What if Jimen did not want to risk the potential fall-out that would inevitably occur if he were to send both the Ruby Champion and many trained Emerald Magistrates to defend his home. What if the person who originally discovered the request from Kuni Daigo and brought it to Yasuki Miliko were to volunteer to instigate discussion among the court that she was pushing for this troop deployment, despite such a thing being out of her normal scope of duties. Let the court decide why she would do such a thing.” Yoyonagi paused.

 “They think you are trading favors with Miliko.”

Yoyonagi nodded. “That is an acceptable response. In the end, the Emerald Champion would simply be responding to the will of the court when he approves the redeployment of Emerald Magistrates. Then, in reality, the person who orchestrated all of this has now proved herself a valuable and useful ally to three other jewelled champions, including the two most powerful. Would you consider that ‘irrelevance’?”

Sachina pursed her lips and pondered for a moment before saying, “It was so good to run into you here, Yoyonagi-san. You have been doing a marvellous job as Amethyst Champion. We should arrange further meetings where we can discuss how we can be of service to each other.”

Yoyonagi thought, then nodded and said, “Certainly. I will add you to my schedule. How does the day after tomorrow sound? We could meet for tea.”

* * * * *

Kuni Daigo looked over his written notes with a furrowed brow. He snorted once and then crumpled one sheet of notes and tossed it behind him, where it joined a few other similarly discarded pages. He read another sheet and grunted in disgust.

“Still as refined as ever, I see.”

Daigo spun around at the unexpected voice to see that Yasuki Miliko stood near the open doorway, standing with the casual readiness of a Crab warrior. “Miliko! I am surprised to see you here. I had thought your duties would keep you as nursemaid for new Imperials for some time to come.”

Miliko chuckled. “That is hardly an accurate description of my duties, Daigo-sama, but you know that. I am here because your request for reinforcements was heeded. I have not come alone. I brought whatever Emerald Magistrates that could be spared.”

Daigo’s eyebrow shot up. “I had thought my request would fall on deaf ears. The empire needs swords all over, not just here. How did you manage to get it approved?”

 “That doesn’t matter. I know you don’t really care about politics or courtly intrigue.”

“Not in the slightest.” They both laughed. “Did Bikan come as well? We can always use another sword, even one that was trained as a Crane.”

Miliko smirked. “No. He was ready to come when he thought the front was still in Crab lands, but once he discovered that we were reporting to Scorpion territory he decided to remain in the capital. He has taken my post as a temporary measure.” Seeing the look on Daigo’s face, Miliko continued. “I am sure he was just disappointed that he could not defend the lands of the Crab. I think it is normal to want to prove yourself with your new clan.”

Daigo shrugged. “I suppose. How many did you bring with you?”

The smirk vanished from Miliko’s face. “Not as many as I would have wished. As you said, the empire needs swords all over.” Miliko gestured to the papers strewn about. “So what is this then? What is the situation here?”

Daigo grunted. “It may not matter how many troops you brought with you if we can’t figure out how to stop that thing out there. Some have taken to calling it the god-beast. At first I thought it was a very large oni, like Kusatte Iru, but that does not seem to be the case.”

Miliko frowned. “Not an oni? The reports we have heard called this thing massively large. They say it kicked apart a Scorpion city like rice paper. What could it be if it is not an oni?”

“The reports were correct. If anything, they do not properly represent how monstrous this thing really is.”

Miliko looked at Daigo with concern. “Then what can we do?”

“Keep looking. Anything can be killed. We just need to find the right weapon… hopefully before it tramples Rokugan into mud.”

Discuss the events of this fiction in our Story Forum!

An examination of the activities of some of the Empress’ greatest servants, the Jeweled Champions.

Tactical Redeployment

By Rusty Priske

Edited by Fred Wan

There were disadvantages to being Yoritomo Sachina, and she knew them too well. Paramount among these problems was that there were times that she might have wished to move across a room without drawing the attention of others arrayed there. That was impossible.

Despite this small hardship, Sachina did not wish it to be otherwise. She had worked hard to ensure that hers was one of the foremost names on the lips of court, and if that meant she had to take further steps to ensure private matters stayed private, well, that was an acceptable cost.

Today, for example, Sachina wished an audience with the Amethyst Champion. The risk that her request would be rebuffed was too great and to have that lay exposed for the courts to whisper behind her back would not do. There were other ways for her to achieve her goals.

Finding out when her quarry left her chambers was simple. It took no more than a smile and lowered eyes with a quickly smitten underling. Knowing where this wandering would lead her, and whether the stroll served any other purpose, took promises of a more concrete nature. That was also simple since the promises were made to one who would be soon reassigned back to the Mantis Isles due to her lack of discretion.

Sachina never made promises that cost her anything in the delivery.

The rock garden near the Otomo building was simple, and not a common location for casual wanderings. It exuded neither the beauty of some of the Crane-tended gardens or the spiritual complexity of those designed by the various monks in residence. This lack of conventional drawing points made the place perfect for Yoritomo Yoyonagi when she wanted time alone. The arrangement of the stones may have had some special significance to the Otomo who laid them out, but to the Mantis it was just a reminder of the rocks on the shore near her home.

Sachina stepped carefully along the narrow path and spoke before Yoyonagi looked up. “What a surprise to find you here, on such a morning, Yoyonagi-san. I had thought your duties gave you no time for yourself.”

Sachina’s words were met with a warm smile and cold eyes. “Good morning, Sachina-san. My duties do keep me quite busy, which is why I consider my time alone to be so valuable. I am sure you would agree.”

“Of course.” Sachina paid no attention to the underlying message of Yoyonagi’s words and sat on a low bench, opposite her clan-mate. “I know only too well the weight of duty for the Amethyst Champion. It is amazing that you can find any time at all.”

Yoyonagi’s eyebrow raised. “You know the weight of the mantle, do you? I was not aware that you had strong ties to my predecessor, Isawa Sawao.”

“I did not mean direct experience, of course. We both know that I decided that my skills were best utilized with the Mantis delegation. I am only saying that you must be very busy indeed if the head of your own clan’s delegation is unable to arrange an audience.”

“I always have time for the head of the Mantis delegation. I am keenly aware of the importance of that position, but my current duties keep my days much more filled.”

Sachina smirked slightly as she rebutted, “That may have been true when you held the post, Yoyonagi-san, but the Mantis have risen in importance within the courts, as I am sure you will agree, so I truly understand how difficult it is to juggle all the demands on your time. Ever since I assisted in securing the Amethyst Championship for you, I have worked diligently to ensure that the Mantis delegation has been well represented in the courts. We are both very busy women.”

“As you say.” Yoyonagi casually stretched, as if she had been sitting too long. “I will indicate that your request for a meeting is to be prioritized. I am certain that in a few days there will be an opening – maybe a week at the outside.”

“There is no need.” Sachina smiled, with just an air of smugness. “What I wish to discuss will only take a moment and since we are both here anyway, why disrupt your carefully managed schedule?”

Yoyonagi suppressed a sigh. “Why indeed? Still, I must not be too long. These stolen moments are brief, I am afraid.”

“I understand completely. What I wish to discuss is to your benefit, however, so I am certain you would want to fit it in.” Sachina paused, waiting for a reaction.

“Continue.”

“Word has reached my ears that you have been speaking in various other ears about expediting a reinforcement request. Pardon me if this sounds ludicrous, but well placed sources have convinced me that you have been trying to have a unit of Emerald Magistrates reassigned to the Scorpion lands. This sounded preposterous to me as interfering in anything under the influence of Shosuro Jimen would not seem to be a strong decision for one already risking irrelevance.”

“Irrelevance? Are you projecting, Sachina-san? Jealousy does not become you.”

Sachina chuckled mirthlessly. “If I had wanted that position… in fact, we may have been better off if I had taken that position and left you as delegation head, despite the initial losses that would have entailed. The court knows full well that the Empress, when she was simply Kitsuki Iweko, had her run-ins with you. Even though her celestial person would be beyond a simple grudge, it puts the Amethyst Champion in an awkward position when she cannot count on the support of the Empress.”

Yoyonagi’s mouth hardened into a line. Her voice steeled as well. “The Empress has shown no indication that she thinks any less of me for our history together.”

Sachina shook her head. “Of course not, but she doesn’t need to. The fact that the history exists and that the court knows it is enough. A potential loss of political sway can be every bit as damaging as an actual loss. Rumors are often self-fulfilling.”

Yoyonagi stood, her back stiff. “I thank you for your warning, Sachina-san. I also thank you for talking to me now so there is no need to find a spot for you on my schedule.”

Sachina followed suit. “I only spoke for your good and the good of the Mantis. Do not interfere in the machinations of Shosuro Jimen. No good can come from it.”

“Oh? It seems that the rumors do not give you all the information that you think they do.” Yoyonagi practically sneered as she spoke. “Let us just say that someone were to discover a request from the Kuni Daigo for reinforcements at his position on the line. Let us then say that the request was brought to the attention of Yasuki Miliko, who happens to be the Ruby Champion, which also makes her the sensei for the Emerald Magistrates. She would certainly want to take a contingent of magistrates with her to answer that request, but her current orders would not allow it. Then, still just as a matter of discussion, her desires were brought to the attention of Shosuro Jimen, who has the power to order these particular Emerald Magistrates to deploy wherever he wishes. It just so happens that the area where the Jade Champion wished to have more troops is in Scorpion lands, where the home of the Emerald Champion is being threatened. What if Jimen did not want to risk the potential fall-out that would inevitably occur if he were to send both the Ruby Champion and many trained Emerald Magistrates to defend his home. What if the person who originally discovered the request from Kuni Daigo and brought it to Yasuki Miliko were to volunteer to instigate discussion among the court that she was pushing for this troop deployment, despite such a thing being out of her normal scope of duties. Let the court decide why she would do such a thing.” Yoyonagi paused.

 “They think you are trading favors with Miliko.”

Yoyonagi nodded. “That is an acceptable response. In the end, the Emerald Champion would simply be responding to the will of the court when he approves the redeployment of Emerald Magistrates. Then, in reality, the person who orchestrated all of this has now proved herself a valuable and useful ally to three other jewelled champions, including the two most powerful. Would you consider that ‘irrelevance’?”

Sachina pursed her lips and pondered for a moment before saying, “It was so good to run into you here, Yoyonagi-san. You have been doing a marvellous job as Amethyst Champion. We should arrange further meetings where we can discuss how we can be of service to each other.”

Yoyonagi thought, then nodded and said, “Certainly. I will add you to my schedule. How does the day after tomorrow sound? We could meet for tea.”

* * * * *

Kuni Daigo looked over his written notes with a furrowed brow. He snorted once and then crumpled one sheet of notes and tossed it behind him, where it joined a few other similarly discarded pages. He read another sheet and grunted in disgust.

“Still as refined as ever, I see.”

Daigo spun around at the unexpected voice to see that Yasuki Miliko stood near the open doorway, standing with the casual readiness of a Crab warrior. “Miliko! I am surprised to see you here. I had thought your duties would keep you as nursemaid for new Imperials for some time to come.”

Miliko chuckled. “That is hardly an accurate description of my duties, Daigo-sama, but you know that. I am here because your request for reinforcements was heeded. I have not come alone. I brought whatever Emerald Magistrates that could be spared.”

Daigo’s eyebrow shot up. “I had thought my request would fall on deaf ears. The empire needs swords all over, not just here. How did you manage to get it approved?”

 “That doesn’t matter. I know you don’t really care about politics or courtly intrigue.”

“Not in the slightest.” They both laughed. “Did Bikan come as well? We can always use another sword, even one that was trained as a Crane.”

Miliko smirked. “No. He was ready to come when he thought the front was still in Crab lands, but once he discovered that we were reporting to Scorpion territory he decided to remain in the capital. He has taken my post as a temporary measure.” Seeing the look on Daigo’s face, Miliko continued. “I am sure he was just disappointed that he could not defend the lands of the Crab. I think it is normal to want to prove yourself with your new clan.”

Daigo shrugged. “I suppose. How many did you bring with you?”

The smirk vanished from Miliko’s face. “Not as many as I would have wished. As you said, the empire needs swords all over.” Miliko gestured to the papers strewn about. “So what is this then? What is the situation here?”

Daigo grunted. “It may not matter how many troops you brought with you if we can’t figure out how to stop that thing out there. Some have taken to calling it the god-beast. At first I thought it was a very large oni, like Kusatte Iru, but that does not seem to be the case.”

Miliko frowned. “Not an oni? The reports we have heard called this thing massively large. They say it kicked apart a Scorpion city like rice paper. What could it be if it is not an oni?”

“The reports were correct. If anything, they do not properly represent how monstrous this thing really is.”

Miliko looked at Daigo with concern. “Then what can we do?”

“Keep looking. Anything can be killed. We just need to find the right weapon… hopefully before it tramples Rokugan into mud.”

Discuss the events of this fiction in our Story Forum!

A series of vignettes from across the Emerald Empire, depicting the activities of the subjects of the Divine Empress.

Scenes from the Empire

By Brian Yoon & Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

            The settlement was far from being a city, and had not grown in many years so had little chance of ever becoming one. It was more than simply a village, in spite of its name. Favored Star Village could best be described as a town, all things considered. It had an inn for the travelers who came through on a regular basis, boasted two sake houses and three tea houses, one temple to the Fortunes, and a monastery where almost two dozen members of the Brotherhood of Shinsei lived at any given time. All things considered, it was a very pleasant place to live, outside the borders of the Great Clans but close enough to the Miya provinces that it was never plagued by bandits. The people of Favored Star Village were a happy and prosperous folk.

            That would not endure for long.

            The ronin watched warily as the cart loaded with rice entered the walls of the monastery. Some rested their hands upon their weapons, looking from face to face among those villagers brave enough to gather nearby with obvious menace. Others did not look up at all, as if ashamed. Once the car was within the monastery, the doors were pushed close with a loud and ominous sound.

            Within the monastery, a number of monks were gathered. Their expressions were no more hopeful than those outside in the village. The wizened abbot of the monastery looked at the cart with a particularly solemn expression. “This is the seasonal tithe,” he said. “The tax collectors are expected within a matter of weeks to collect this.”

            A woman clad in the traditional wrappings of a sohei warrior monk seemed unconcerned with his statement. “We are simply expediting the matter.”

            The abbot glanced at the woman and the five other sohei accompanying her, all bearing the same wrappings. “I do not believe that you act with the authority you claim,” he finally said. “You have no affiliation with the tax collectors despite the papers you bear.”

            The woman glanced at him, her eyes cold and unfeeling. “Does that matter?”

            The old man shook his head. “I am sorry, but I cannot allow you to take this rice. It is intended for the Empress, and the people of this village will suffer if they must surrender additional rice to take the place of what you have stolen.”

            The woman chuckled. It was a terrible sound. “What will you do about it, wretch? Will the monks of the Order of Tengen write me a scathing letter?”

            The old man looked down sadly, but his grip on his walking stick tightened. “I will do whatever I can. Whatever I must.”

            This time the woman threw her head back and laughed. “You are pathetic! You are powerless to stop me.”

            “I am not.”

            The new voice caused the assembled sohei to brandish their weapons and form a defensive circle around their leader. “Who said that?” one of them demanded.

            In answer, one of the ronin stepped forward and allowed his traveling cloak to slip free and fall to the ground, revealing exquisitely crafted light armor and a gleaming pair of blades concealed beneath. The woman growled. “How many ronin did you hire?” she demanded.

            “Five, my lady!” one of the sohei replied.

            “Idiot!” she said, backhanding him to the ground, “there are six of them!”

            The man who was not a ronin stepped forward twice and to the left once, assuming a specific position. “This is over. On my authority as a magistrate of the Empress, you are all under arrest.”

            “Oh, how pedestrian,” the woman said. “Kill him.”

            The five ronin and the other sohei all advanced, but the man seemed unconcerned. “Now,” he said loudly. There was a faint sound, like distant whispering, and then a hail of arrows rained down from over the wall. The ronin fell almost at once, the area all around the man’s specific position filled with the lethal missiles.

One of the sohei was likewise felled, but the remaining four advanced with deadly intent even as their mistress crossed her arms. “Seppun Tashime,” she said, shaking her head. “I really should have anticipated your return. You are quite tenacious.”

Tashime cut one of the sohei down and narrowly avoided the bisento strike of a second. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “You steal food from the mouths of the Empress’ subjects during a time of war? For what purpose?”

The woman shrugged. “The warriors of the Spider need food just as anyone else, and have little time for farming.”

Tashime grimaced in rage as he cut down another. “Impudent harlot! How dare you!”

“Are you angry with me because of what I have done?” the woman wondered aloud. “Or are you angry because everything I have done is your fault?”

Another hail of arrows took two of the monks, leaving Tashime facing one opponent. The two men circled one another. “I am not to blame for your madness, Grey Woman.”

“That is not my name,” she said. “Say it.”

“You are a blasphemy!” he roared.

“Speak my name!” she demanded.

Tashime cut down the final monk and leapt at her. “Shaiko!” he screamed.

She disappeared in an explosive blast of black fire, the force of which threw Tashime back into the cart of rice, scattering much of it across the ground. Despite the ringing in his ears, he could hear the crash as his deputies finally managed to force the monastery’s gates open. One of them rushed up to him, and Tashime could barely hear him yelling, asking where the Grey Woman was.

“Once she bested me,” Tashime muttered. “Now I have bested her once. The next time we meet, it will be the final time.”

* * * * *

            The estate was utterly silent save for the strangely discordant whistles coming from a small series of carefully carved bamboo shoots hanging near an open window. The wind blew gentle through them, creating an odd series of whistles that were inexplicably soothing. Or perhaps he had simply changed so much from what he had once been that now chaos was now the only thing in which he could take comfort.

            One thing that had not changed was the delight he took in the scent of fresh brewing tea. Once he had preferred the robust flavor of Mountain Home blend, a tea common in his home province, but since his return to the Imperial City he found that he preferred the more subtle taste of Jade Coast blend. He was unsure if there was any significance to such a change.

            An almost imperceptible rustle came from near the door, where his lone guardian stood. The man called Taishuu glanced at the doorway and smiled slightly. “Yodo-san, are you certain you will not take tea with me?”

            Kitsuki Yodo regarded him silently for a moment. “You ask me that each time I take my shift within your estate, and I always decline. Thank you, no. Why do you persist in asking?”

            Taishuu shrugged. “Perhaps I simply appreciate the courtesy with which you respond.”

            “I see,” Yodo said. “Then I shall be sure to be more abrupt in the future.”

            “That is of course your right,” Taishuu said. “Although for me it would be a great shame.” He went about the act of preparing his afternoon tea. “You seem to have this duty with more regularity than other members of my detail,” he observed. “I have long suspected that you have something you wish to ask me. Would I be incorrect?”

            Yodo glared at him and did not appear ready to respond, so Taishuu continued. Patience had ever been one of his virtues. He was well into his second cup when Yodo’s resolve finally seemed to waver. “How can you have fallen so far?” she demanded.

            Taishuu took another sip. “The estate is more opulent than any I have ever known, despite its current sparse decoration. I presume, then, that you refer to my association with the Spider Clan.”

            “You are a traitor,” Yodo said, her voice shaking with anger. “Were it not a violation of my duty I would end your miserable existence without a second thought.”

            “Would it surprise you to know that I consider my present existence a manifestation of my duty?”

            Yodo waved the comment away. “Your duty to who? Your dark lord? Duty to one such as he is meaningless. You can take no glory from service to one without honor.”

            “You speak of that which you do not understand,” Taishuu said. “But no, I do not consider this a matter of duty to Daigotsu. Or at least, not to Daigotsu alone. I consider this part of my service to the Dragon as well.”

            “Then you are insane,” Yodo said firmly. “Nothing you do is in service to the Dragon.”

            “Again, you speak of that which you do not know,” Taishuu said. “You speak of that which you cannot know.”

            The Kitsuki frowned. “Explain it to me, then. Make me understand, if you are as sane as you seem.”

            “I will,” Taishuu said, “but only in exchange for something from you.”

            “No,” she said at once. “I promise nothing to you.”

            “I wish only for your promise that what I tell you shall not be spoken of to another,” Taishuu said. “I ask only for your word of honor that everything I speak of to you remains a secret between us until such time as your death.”

            Her eyes narrowed. “You must know that I would break my word to reveal any threats to the clan, the Empire, or the Empress that you revealed to me. Even if it required my seppuku to cleanse the stain of my broken word.”

            “I would expect no less from a warrior of your caliber,” Taishuu said with a smile. “No, that which I would speak of to you would pose no threats to any that you have sworn to protect, nor any within the Empire at all, in truth.”

            Yodo was silent for a time. Slowly, she nodded. “I would hear it, then,” she said quietly. “If you would speak of it, I would like… I need… to understand how any honorable Dragon warrior could be brought to this.” She drew a deep breath. “I give my word.”

            Taishuu smiled, but it was a sad expression. “I am glad to hear it. Please, sit with me. Take tea with me.”

            Kitsuki Yodo frowned, but she stepped forward and joined Taishuu at the low table.

* * * * *

            It was supposed to be a peaceful return to camp, yet something startled Horiuchi Nobane out of his slumber and he nearly slid off his saddle. He wrapped his reins around his left arm and pulled himself upright. A round of soft chuckles informed him that his lapse had not gone unnoticed, yet none of his comrades were heckling him. The lack of friendly ribbing was uncharacteristic of the camaraderie that had grown between Nobane and his troops as they faced the long grind of the war against the Destroyers. In any normal moment, the tiers of military hierarchy would not have stopped the mockery, but Nobane figured the presence of general Utaku Yu-Pan at the head of the force forced everyone at their best behavior.

            Of course, Nobane mused, the fact that everyone else was at the brink of exhaustion themselves dampened their enthusiasm.

            Iuchi Kota spurred his horse and matched Nobane’s pace to ride by his side.

“Is it your injuries again, Nobane-san?” Kota asked quietly, so the others could not hear.
            Nobane shook his head quickly in denial. “It is simply fatigue, Kota. We’ve all been ridden ragged and I’m no different.”

            Kota’s face remained devoid of emotion, but he did not relent from his line of polite assault. “We are all weary, Nobane-san, but none of us have suffered multiple devastating injuries in the course of these months. The Destroyers tore your knee at Shiro Kuni. You were nearly eviscerated last month along the Crane border, and you took some nasty blows during the last retreat. My prayers to the kami can keep you in the saddle, but not if you continue your brazen defiance of the possible.”

            “That’s all in the past,” Nobane answered with a breeziness he did not feel. “I continue fighting by the grace of the kami, and I can repay their kindness by doing what I can to repel this newest corruption.”

            “You cannot take these wounds lightly, Nobane. They have marked you to the deepest recesses of your soul, no matter how fast your body knits. You must sense the weariness settling in your bones. That will never fade, unless you give your body time to heal.”

            “Kota-san—” Nobane started to say.

            Kota interrupted him, his calm, even tone never changing for an instant. “I am not beseeching the gods to mend your body to watch you ride yourself to the ground. This will not be the last war you will ever face, Nobane-san, even if you wish it to be.”

            Nobane absent-mindedly patted Lobai’s neck as he reflected on the shugenja’s demands. “And what about you?”

            “I feel the fatigue, but little else,” Kota replied.

            Nobane took a closer look at his friend. Now that he was paying attention, he could tell that the shugenja was paler than usual, despite his denial.

            “I’ve spoken to Taiyung and the other Iuchi in our detachment. The presence of that… abomination is distorting the kami in its presence. We approached close to the creature’s position during the last ride.”

            “You forget, I was taught by the Kuni,” Kota replied. “I am accustomed to the corruptive nature of the Shadowlands. I can adjust. There are so few of us who can speak to the kami among our troops that I can only relent if my death is the alternative.”

            “You understand my feelings perfectly, Kota-san,” Nobane said, smiling.

            “I will place myself off active duty the moment I am asleep on my steed,” Kota said. “You are lucky you recovered in time, my friend. If you had fallen off Lobai, you would have never heard the end of it from your men.”

            “With good reason,” Nobane agreed. “Thank you for your advice, Kota-san. You never fail to tell me exactly what I need to hear.”

            The shugenja acknowledged the concession with a tiny nod. Reinvigorated, Nobane quickened his pace and moved past the slow moving procession to its head. She was at the very head of the convoy, speaking to one of her advisors in a quiet tone. Even from afar, he could see the iron and determination of her soul. Despite the overwhelming numbers before her, Utaku Yu-Pan had never failed to lead the Unicorn forces with cleverness and resolve.

            As Nobane approached, Yu-Pan waved the other away and directed her full attention to the Horiuchi.

            “Good work organizing the retreat, Nobane-san. We suffered far fewer casualties than my advisors expected, mostly thanks to your efforts,” she said.

            A tight smile crossed his face. “I wish I had not become so accustomed to fleeing, but the Destroyers have given me ample practice over the months. I just wish we could have made more of a difference in that battle, but I do not see how we could have done any better.”

            “It may feel that way, but I assure you we are making a grand difference in the war. The plight of the southern front has garnered serious Imperial attention,” Yu-Pan said. “More troops are pouring into the southern lands as we speak, creating a standing army like has never been seen before. They will provide all the stationary defense Rokugan will need. It falls to us to fill the holes, harass the enemy, and slow their progress no matter what action they may take.”

            Nobane could only nod in agreement.

            “We are not returning to that Crane estate, Nobane,” Yu-Pan suddenly said. “I intend to regroup at Jin-Sahn’s camp and see what the Shogun intends of our troops.”

            “You intend to fold our forces with the Imperial ones?” Nobane asked.

            Yu-Pan snorted. “Not for one instant. I don’t mind listening to suggestions, and of course I will direct our forces wherever the Empire needs us most, but I will decide where that is. What I do intend, however, is to reap the benefits of our new Imperial attention. A courier has informed me that Jin-Sahn has fresh supplies, armor, and supplies for us all.”

            “Welcome news indeed,” Nobane said. He hesitated for one moment before finally speaking the words. “Yu-Pan-sama, I must leave your service when we return to safety. I need to rest before I am refreshed to lead your men. I fear that I will make a mistake if I continue to push myself.”

            Yu-Pan smiled and her entire face lit up with beauty. “Of course. Return to me when you are back at your best, Nobane.

            “The war will still be here when you return to your duties.”

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In a time of war, the Chosen of the Empress work throughout the Empire to try and maintain the safety and sanity of her subjects.

Chosen by Fate

By Shawn Carman

Editing & Development by Fred Wan

The Imperial Chancellor, Bayushi Hisoka, strode through the silent hallways of the Imperial Palace. If those few who passed him could see through the high collar that he used to obscure his features, they would see that his countenance was clearly troubled. But of course he would never allow that, and so those rare few who passed him simply smiled and bowed, and he absently acknowledged them in kind. This portion of the palace was reserved for use by the highest ranking members of the Empress’ bureaucracy and, to a lesser extent, the members of the Imperial families. Hisoka generally avoided them because he found the company of the Imperial families, or the Otomo at least, quite tiresome. Today, however, he had a particular need to be here, for the company he sought could not be found elsewhere.

Hisoka finally paused outside of a small, unassuming room nestled in the northeastern corner of the palace. There were no adornments on the outside, nothing to indicate the purpose of the room, but Hisoka knew its function well enough. He stood quietly for a moment, listening to the soft clicking sound of chopsticks from within. Finally, he drew a deep breath. “I apologize for interrupting,” he said. “May I come in?”

There was a moment of silence, then a deep voice simply said, “Enter.”

Hisoka slid back the screen, stepped across the threshold, and closed it behind him. “Thank you for seeing me,” he said quietly. “I know that your private time is very valuable to you.”

Togashi Satsu sat back down and picked up his chopsticks. “I know that you would not come to me if it were not a matter of importance.” He took a bite of noodles and chewed for a moment. “What troubles you, my friend?”

Hisoka was silent for several minutes. “I fear my faith may be… wavering.”

Satsu did not respond visible, but continued eating. “That is a serious matter indeed, then. What exactly is it you wish to discuss?”

The Chancellor rubbed his eyes wearily. “You alone in this world hear the Empress’ voice,” he began.

“Not altogether correct,” Satsu interrupted.

Hisoka glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“I have never heard the Empress’ voice,” Satsu replied. “I heard it often when she was simply Kitsuki Iweko, of course, but that time has ended. Since her ascension, I have not heard her speak. I am not certain she speaks at all, truthfully.”

Hisoka stared at him. “But… we all believed… you cannot hear when she speaks to you?”

“No,” Satsu said. “When I took my position, the Empress blessed me, as did the Voice of the Jade Sun and the Voice of the Obsidian Moon. Because of that, I assume, I am able to… it is difficult to explain.” He paused for a moment. “I am able to sense her emotions. To feel what it is that she feels. It is this that I put into words.” He shrugged. “Perhaps she speaks to the Consort. At the very least he seems able to sense her feelings as well. But then perhaps he is simply an attentive husband, eh?”

Hisoka frowned and rubbed his chin. “I did not know,” he said. “Still, it matters little in the context of my question. You are perhaps the only one in the mortal realm who can know the mind of the Empress. So it is to you I must pose this question, for I dare not speak it to any other.” He paused again. “It is only because my clan considers you a friend and because I know you are a man of tremendous honor and wisdom, that I feel safe to ask this of you. I wish you to understand that.”

 “And I am honored,” Satsu said with a bow. “Speak your mind, friend.”

Hisoka drew a breath. “The Empress,” he said, his voice very soft. “Is she infallible?”

Satsu frowned. “What?”

“Even asking the question would likely result in outrage if not violence were it asked in different company,” Hisoka admitted. “But… with everything that has happened, and that continues to happen, I must know… is she infallible?”

The former Dragon Champion sighed and set his chopsticks down with a click. “I know, without question, that the Empress has been imbued with the power and insight of the Celestial Heavens. I know that she is no longer truly mortal, and that even before her ascension, she was possessed of powers of perception like no man or woman I have ever known in my lifetime.” Here he paused for a moment. “Despite this, and despite the fact that the Imperial Histories are clear that the Hantei line was infallible despite certain evidence to the contrary, I believe that nothing that was ever truly mortal can be completely infallible.” He smiled. “Now we have both said things that would result in our visceral deaths at the hands of the Empire’s more zealous subjects.”

Hisoka shook his head. “I wish more than anything to believe that which I present to others, that the Empress is beyond error, and that she and she alone can guide us through this time of trial. But the enormity of the things that take place now, the trials before us… my faith can waver.”

Satsu closed his eyes. “I believe that it is possible for the Empress to make mistakes,” he admitted, “but I believe she is wiser by far than any other living soul, and that she can perceive things no other mortal can ever hope to understand. Even things that she does that seem, to us, to be a mistake, ultimately serves a purpose we cannot know.” He smiled again. “I know not only that we shall endure this time of trial, but that it is through her wisdom alone that we shall do so. This, and whatever comes after.”

The Chancellor nodded. “Please, forgive me a moment of weakness,” he said. “With all that has happened, the assaults in the north and south, the reports of this mysterious creature that now savages my homeland, and the… the fate of my Champion… I sometimes have doubts.” He smiled sadly. “I am not the man my predecessor was, I fear.”

“And I am very thankful for that,” Satsu said.

Hisoka looked surprised. “What do you mean? Kaukatsu was perhaps the greatest Chancellor the Empire has ever known. He was possessed of certainty that I can only pretend to possess.” He laughed. “Once, in the Scorpion lands, I saw him set upon by a ronin assassin. The assassin was intent on killing him and, for whatever reason, Kaukatsu was without guards at that moment. He simply laughed at the ronin, and spoke to him in a calm tone. He was so confident, so completely assured, that he was in no danger, that his assassin faltered in the assault. The pause was enough for sentries to arrive, which Kaukatsu appeared to know was the outcome. The man who hired that assassin was dead within a matter of hours.” He shook his head. “Kaukatsu was a great man.”

“I mean no disrespect, but he was a monster,” Satsu said plainly. “He commanded the court as if it was his own, and he allowed his presence, his influence, to overshadow those who were his superiors.” Satsu gestured to the other man. “You present a similar façade, but at your heart you are not the same. You shall become greater by far than Kaukatsu.” He paused for a moment. “Again, no disrespect intended.”

Hisoka sighed. “Thank you for your wisdom, Satsu-sama. I hope that I have not intruded upon your privacy too long.”

Satsu smiled. “You are always welcome, my friend.”

* * * * *

The morning sun had not yet cleared the horizon as the man known simply as Susumu walked through the streets of the Imperial City, humming a merry tune as he did so. His yojimbo, a stern and foreboding Scorpion warrior, followed him a short distance behind. The man, Bayushi Jutsushi, had become Susumu’s yojimbo only very recently, and in the wake of the tremendous tragedy that had occurred in the Scorpion provinces. Jutsushi had willingly abandoned his position as hatamoto of Kyuden Bayushi following Paneki’s demise, something he had previously proven unwilling to do. Susumu did not delve too deeply into the man’s motivations, but out of consideration he preferred not to mention the matter at all, much less in Jutsushi’s presence. One could never be too careful, after all.

The estate to which Susumu walked was small and relatively out of the way. It was carefully positioned against the wall that separated the inner city from the outer portions where the common folk conducted their business. It seemed nondescript, but everything about it was designed to ensure increased security. Six guards made themselves visible to Susumu as he approached, and he was sure there were others nearby. A ridiculously large man stepped to the top of the stairs, whom Susumu favored with a smile. “Good morning to you, commander Kurogane.”

Akodo Kurogane did not smile. “It is always a pleasure to see the Imperial Advisor,” he said, his tone completely flat and emotionless. “What business do you have this morning, if I may ask?”

“You may certainly ask,” Susumu replied. It was curious that Kurogane had never used his actual name, instead referring to him by title at all times. It was some sort of slight, he supposed, but its origin was unfamiliar to him. He made a mental note to research Lion traditions in the library. How could he properly insult the man for his conduct if he did not understand it, after all? “I wish to speak with the man you protect, as is my right.”

At the word ‘protect,’ Kurogane twitched as if physically pained, but to his credit he said nothing. “Of course, Advisor. You are of course aware that you are not permitted to meet with the guest unless one of my men is present?”

“You are kind enough to mention it each time, just in case I have forgotten,” Susumu said. “Your vigilance is commendable and I thank you for it.”

“It is my pleasure,” Kurogane said, though it clearly brought him no pleasure at all whatsoever. “Kasei, if you would please.”

A completely average looking Lion samurai, practically diminutive compared to Kurogane, stepped forward. He looked unassuming, but Susumu knew that was a lie. “Kasei-san,” he said. “It is always an honor to be accompanied by a member of the Empress’ Guard.”

Kasei bowed slightly but said nothing. Kurogane gestured to the estate’s doors behind him. “You are free to enter, Advisor.” Susumu bowed his head in a respectful manner and strode past the guard, all of whom had the courtesy to bow, if only slightly, including Kurgane.

The estate’s interior had not changed since the Advisor’s last visit, which had been some weeks ago. He felt it inappropriate to visit too often, given the sort of reaction it provoked. Ironically, he was quite certain that the only person whose opinion made any different to him in this ridiculous city, the Empress, would be the one person who would not care if he visited even daily. But ultimately that was not the point.

The lone occupant sat within the estate’s great chamber at a low table, preparing tea for two. Somehow, he always knew when Susumu would visit. “I see that you have not bothered to acquire any additional trappings,” the Advisor mused, looking about at the largely empty chamber.

Taishuu, formerly known as Mirumoto Taishuu and perhaps in his heart alone known as Daigotsu Taishuu, did not smile. “I do not appreciate distraction. I prefer simplicity.”

“So it would seem.” Susumu gestured to the others. “I would be remiss if I did not introduce my new yojimbo, the esteemed Bayushi Jutsushi, and our mutual security escort, Matsu Kasei of the Empress’ Guard.”

“It is always a pleasure to stand among honored warriors,” Taishuu said.

“Thank you, sama,” Jutsushi said quietly, bowing. Kasei said nothing.

“Do you know why I have come to see you today?” Susumu said, sitting across the table from Taishuu. “I do not know how much information about the greater Empire you receive on a daily basis.”

“I prefer to limit my exposure to the city at large,” Taishuu said, “and the guards who stand watch over my residence are extremely disciplined. I hear little.”

Susumu sighed. “This will sound unusual, even by our somewhat generous standards,” he began, “but it appears that the enemy in the south has unleashed some sort of living weapon against the Empire.”

Taishuu frowned. “What manner of weapon?”

“A creature of some sort,” Susumu said. “It appears to be truly massive in scale, although precise accounts have varied so much that I wonder if its size is not in some way mutable.” He sipped at the tea and nodded appreciatively. “The Empress has received reports from the Phoenix related to the matter. They believe that the creature may be divine in some way, perhaps a remnant of some other pantheon that exists elsewhere in the world.”

“Blasphemous,” Taishuu said. “But interesting.”

“The Phoenix scholar dispatched to brief the Empress on behalf of the Elemental Masters compared the creature to a Fortune whose mind has been shattered and rendered bestial in nature. Imagine if you will Osano-Wo on a mindless rampage throughout the southern Empire and you might have an inkling of the manner of threat we are discussing.”

“I find the notion of such a thing… sobering,” Taishuu said. “I assume that your visit is related to the matter in some way?”

“To some extent, yes,” Susumu admitted. “I know that your function here in the Imperial City is nebulous, but I presume that you have some means of speaking with… associates beyond the city.”

Kasei bristled at the comment, but remained silent.

“If that were the case, I think it would hardly be in my best interests to discuss it. Would you not agree?”

Susumu smiled. “I would indeed agree. However, the purpose of my visit is to merely inform you and make mention of the notion that, should you find yourself in a position to communicate, perhaps you might inquire after any… visitors… who might be able to offer more information.”

Taishuu nodded slowly. “That is an interesting idea.”

“Time is very much of the essence,” Susumu added. “Which I am sure I need not tell you, but just in case.”

“Indeed,” Taishuu agreed. “Would you care for more tea? I generally find that a generous portion assists me in my meditations.” He smiled. “Which I generally conduct immediately afterwards.”

“I see,” Susumu said, rising. “Well, I have no wish to delay you. It is always a pleasure to see you, Taishuu-san. Please, keep in touch.”

He nodded. “Be assured that I shall.”

* * * * *

Moto Jin-sahn, the Shogun of the Empire, glanced around at the dozens of maps and scrolls that covered every flat surface of his command tent and ground his teeth, struggling not to lapse into a fit of rage and destroying everything in sight. He closed his eyes and counted inwardly for a moment, stemming the tide of his fury. “Danjuro,” he said in a voice that dripped with forced calm. “Do you know where the report from the seventh legion is?”

“Hai, Shogun,” his second-in-command said at once. “I believe it is tucked into your obi at the moment.”

Jin-sahn glanced down and withdrew the rolled scroll from his belt with a disgusted expression. “If I were my own subordinate I think I would relieve myself of duty.”

“You should,” Danjuro said. “But only because you have not slept in days. You cannot win this war by yourself, my lord.”

“We shall see about that,” Jin-sahn muttered. He glanced over his shoulder. “What about you, Danjuro? When did you last rest?”

“Do not worry about me, my lord,” Danjuro said. “I died from exhaustion last night.”

Jin-sahn turned suddenly. “Wha… what?”

“Do not worry,” Danjuro said with a smirk. “I rose from the ashes, renewed and reinvigorated.”

Jin-sahn sighed in disgust. “Humor?” he asked. “Really?”

Danjuro shrugged. “It certainly can’t make our situation any worse, would you not agree?”

The Shogun sat the scroll down and rubbed his face with both hands. The characters on the parchment seemed to swim and melt together. Perhaps Danjuro was correct; he could not remember the last time he had slept. Given the situation, however, that seemed like a luxury he simply could not afford. “In all honesty there is very little that could make our situation worse at this point.”

As if on cue, the tent flap parted and one of the Shogun’s guards stepped inside. “My lord,” he said, “the Imperial Treasurer is here.”

Danjuro glanced at the Shogun and stepped forward. “Jin-sahn-sama has much to do. Please inform the Treasury agents that he will schedule time to meet with them at his earliest convenience.”

“Not blazing likely,” Jin-sahn muttered.

The soldier cleared his throat. “I am sorry, my lords, but perhaps I was unclear. There are not agents of the Imperial Treasurer waiting to see you. It is the Treasurer himself.”

Both men stopped what they were doing and stared. “Yoritomo Utemaro is here?” Jin-sahn asked.

“It would appear so,” the soldier said. “What should I do?”

The Shogun sat down heavily. “Show him in,” he said, his voice little more than a croak.

“Should I leave?” Danjuro asked as the soldier disappeared.

“If you leave me alone with him I will have you killed,” Jin-sahn said darkly.

Danjuro stifled a chuckle as the flap swept open again and two figures entered. One was a lithe young woman with a serious expression, and the other a middle-aged man whose face was a mask of displeasure and irritation. “Honor and glory to the Shogun of the Empire,” the woman said, bowing low.

Danjuro returned the bow, instinctively adopting the same formal announcement. “Honor and glory to the Imperial Treasurer,” he returned.

“Very good, formalities observed, all is well with the world,” Utemaro said with a wave of his hand. “What in the Fortunes’ name is going on down here, Jin-sahn?”

“I cannot say as I appreciate the question or the tone with which you ask it, Utemaro,” the Shogun replied, placing emphasis on the Treasurer’s name.

“If we are going to discuss appreciation, then perhaps you should get comfortable, because my list is long indeed,” Utemaro said.

            “Well I do apologize,” Jin-sahn retorted. “Is my desperate war against the enemies of the Empire making your life inconvenient? How foolishly inconsiderate of me.”

            Utemaro shook his head in disgust. “I have examined your camp and the state of this front since my arrival. I was not always the Treasurer, you will recall. It is clear to me that you lack the resources required to win this war.”

            Jin-sahn felt a flash of white-hot anger, but to his amazement, it was Danjuro who spoke first. The Phoenix’s eyes were bright with rage. “You sit in your place of comfort and security in the Imperial City and yet dare to question the work and worth of the Shogun? You have no concept of what he has accomplished, or his worth to the Empress!”

            “Well!” Utemaro said, smirking. “Your dog has some teeth, Jin-sahn.”

            “Perhaps we should all take a moment to compose ourselves,” Yoritomo Yashinko said, with a very slightly embarrassed glance at her superior.

            The Shogun held up his hand. “Enough. We all need a moment.”

            Danjuro took a step back and blinked repeatedly. “I… I apologize. I forgot myself for a moment.”

            “I find it refreshing, honestly,” Utemaro said. “You have always been too even-tempered for my tastes.”

            “Danjuro-sama,” Yashinko said with a smile. “Perhaps you and I might have a spot of tea for a moment, and allow our superiors to conduct themselves as they see fit?”

            Danjuro glanced at the Shogun, who nodded, then took a deep breath and smiled. “It would be my pleasure. Come with me, if you please.”

            Utemaro watched as the two departed the tent, then turned back to the Shogun. “I meant what I said, however you wish to take it. You lack the resources to win this war.”

            “I have the finest men, and exceptional officers,” Jin-sahn protested. “I have all that any commander could wish for in an army.”

            “Do not be naïve,” the Treasurer admonished. “What of weapons? Food? Horses? Armor? Are you telling me that you have all you require? Honestly?”

            Jin-sahn frowned. “The rate of attrition is significant,” he admitted. “Losses have been severe, and supplies have been destroyed repeatedly.”

            “I can give you all that you need. Not what you have been receiving, but what you actually need,” Utemaro said.

            Jin-sahn frowned. “In doing so, you would overtax the Empire, exhaust the fields, work the peasants nearly to death. Would you not?”

            Utemaro did not blink. “Is that what you need or isn’t it?”

            The Shogun spread his hands on the table, lowered his head, and closed his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “How long can you maintain an output level of that magnitude?”

            “Not long at all,” Utemaro said. “At least, not without permanent damage to the Empire’s infrastructure. You will need to win, and quickly. Can you do that?”

            Jin-sahn looked up. “We shall soon see, won’t we?”

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The appearance of the god-beast of Kali-ma, the Destroyer’s most potent weapon, on the front lines of the southern front throws the Empire into a desperate race to secure the Scorpion lands against seemingly inevitable disaster.

Unleashed Part 2

By Rusty Priske

Edited by Fred Wan

The earth shuddered beneath the feet of the god-beast. Whether it was due to the creature’s massive size, impacting the ground with a physical force previously unknown, or if the land was recoiling in revulsion at the thing’s touch was unclear. Where it stepped, the ground burned and withered. The air around it was distorted like heat off of flat stone. Its skin was black and cracked. It gave off the impression of fire, more than fire itself.

It was hard to get a good impression of what it looked like as the eyes of viewers ached like they were looking too long into the sun. Their minds could not interpret what they were seeing and convince them that it was real.

It moved neither slowly nor quickly. It was simply inevitable.

Akodo Kitaka spread white makeup on his face, preparing to face his end.

Utaka Jisoo snapped at the Lion Deathseeker. “What do you mean that this is our death? Do you recognize this creature?”

Kitaka shook his head. “I believe that you will find that no one living have seen this creature before. That does not mean that no one will recognize it. Most will know their end when they see it. Most will fight it, deny it, but they will still know it. Our death comes for us and it is up to us how we will embrace it.”

Bayushi Kaibara looked at the Lion for a moment and then said, “I only accept victory.”

Hida Kaihei snorted. “Once I would have said that there is no beast that cannot fall – no enemy that cannot be defeated. Then Kyuden Hida fell. Now, I know that we cannot lose unless our spirits break. No victory by the enemy, however impressive, shall stave off our wrath, but some battles cannot be won.”

Kitaka grunted. “Denial is a normal response. We will not find victory here.”

Kaibara smiled, grimly. “You misunderstand. I do not mean I think we will kill this thing, or even survive, just that we will know victory. To make an enemy’s conquest costly is a form of victory.”

The others paused, looking at the Scorpion and then, one by one, nodded.

* * * * *

Shosuro Toson stood waiting for a response from the one who now led the Scorpion Clan. “I mean no disrespect, Miyako-sama. With the recent developments none would question a need for a time of mourning. Another could bear these duties for you until you are ready.”

Bayushi Miyako was clad not in the garb of mourning, but the armor of her role as shireikan. The symbol of that position had been removed, however, and replaced by the mon of the Scorpion alone. She bore no rank. The only thing that could reveal her identity was her mempo, which once belonged to her husband, Bayushi Paneki. Her voice rasped as she said, “Yes. No one would question my right for time to mourn. And no outsider will recognize that I forego this for the Scorpion. The Crab lands have fallen, and I will not sit idle while the same happens to us. I did not desire this duty, but it has fallen to me. Now speak no more of him until you the day you tell me that the thing that wears his body has been found and destroyed.”

Toson, his expression completely hidden by his full-face mempo, simply nodded. “Would that I could, milady.”

“Then let us focus on the matter at hand. We were pre-warned by Yukimi, and have buttressed our defenses at Closed Pincer City.”

Toson nodded again. “Yes, Miyako-sama. If the front line breaches, the city is next in the path of the Destroyers and this beast that marches at their head.”

“And has the line held?”

“No. They appear unable to even slow it down.”

* * * * *

Hida Kaihei held a rag to the side of his head, slowing the flow of blood that streaked his cheek. His helmet was gone, lost when he was struck by a rock gouged from the earth by a random swipe by the god-beast. “Have the runners been sent?”

Kaibara simply nodded.

“My unit is ready for our charge.” Jisoo said, officially to the Scorpion, but it sounded more like a pronouncement than a report.

Kitaka was the first to step forward. He moved to Jisoo, looked at her for a long moment and then bowed deeply, formally. Kaihei repeated the actions of the Lion, though with less formality. Finally, Kaibara said, “May the gods ride with you, Utaku-san.”

Jisoo bowed to all of them and then turned to join her command.

Twenty Utaku Battle Maidens charged the god-beast’s flank. They knew their goal was to blunt the creature’s advance. Even small victories had been impossible to come by thus far.

They swept in like a scythe; steel flashing in reflection of the sun, until they reached the beast’s shadow. Without even seeming to glance their way, the god-beast swung one of its right limbs, as thick as the Great Wall itself. Black and red claws tore through the earth like an oar through water. Over half of the Utaku riders were swept from their mounts, horse and rider killed indiscriminately. Some were thrown clear, with such force that they were aloft long enough to become aware of their end.

Jisoo was one of those. When she struck the stony ground, the impact shattered what of her bones were still intact after the initial blow.

* * * * *

Asako Bairei sat in the library, surrounded by scrolls seemingly discarded haphazardly. He unrolled another quickly and scanned the contents, mumbling to himself. “No…no… nothing…”

Isawa Mitsuko barely seemed to move her feet when she walked. It was unclear whether the gliding effect was due to her own grace or to the support of the air kami with whom she communed, but neither drew Bairei’s attention when Mitsuko entered.

“No mention of the creature?”

“Nothing. I found some ranting about a fallen god, that may not actually be referring to Fu Leng as was previously thought, but there was nothing useful in it.”

Mitsuko winced. “I can feel the air around it curdle and burn. Air should not feel pain. We must find a way to stop this or more than just the people of Rokugan will pay the price for our failure.

Bairei flung the scroll in his hand across the room. “Do you think I am unaware of that? Our histories tell us nothing and the elements themselves are tortured by this creature. I have never felt this helpless before.”

Mitsuko sighed. “Not all the elements.”

Bairei nodded brusquely. “Ningen picked a very inopportune time to leave us.”

“Have you known Ningen to act capriciously? If he felt it was time to move on and leave his mantle to Isawa Kimi, we cannot question it. I am certain he did not do so out of ignorance. He was privy to knowledge where the rest of us could only offer conjecture. He knew we would have to turn to the Void and he believed that we should turn to Kimi rather than to him. If we would have had faith in Ningen, then we should have faith in Kimi as turning to her was Ningen’s choice.”

Bairei grunted. “Yes, it was his choice, not ours. I trust in what can be documented. Ningen’s explanations of his decisions have always left me wanting further elucidation.”

Mitsuko nodded. “Be that as it may, our only hope may lay in Kimi’s hands now.”

* * * * *

Bayushi Miyako leaned over the map displayed on the table before her. The map showed all of the Scorpion lands, though it would not be recognizable as such to one not trained in the Scorpion ways. Every marking, topographical, political, or otherwise was coded in such a way that a casual viewer would see the piece as some sort of artwork, done in a fairly abstract style. When Miyako looked at a cluster of marks, she did not see random paint strokes, however. She saw a city.

“There has been no slowing of its approach?”

Shosuro Toson shook his head. “No, Miyako-sama.”

“Then it will be on Closed Pincer City within two hours.”

“Yes, Miyako-sama. Defenses are poised and ready for its approach. We are fortunate that it moves slowly enough to give us ample time to move troops into position.”

“We have no reason to think that will be enough to stop it.” This was not a question.

“No, Miyako-sama.”

Miyako thought for a moment before straightening her back and saying, “Order a full retreat of the combined forces on the front line.”

Toson nodded. “I will send word immediately that they are to fall back to Closed Pincer City to buttress its defenses.”

“No. Tell them to retreat to the west. Full retreat, but not too quickly. Make it clear that they are beaten, but not routed. Give the beast a target it cannot resist. Let it chase them while we gather what information we can. All things can be beaten, even gods. We just have to figure out how.”

Toson’s mempo ensured his thoughts were not betrayed. “The army will be sacrificed, then.”

“But the city will not.”

“And if the beast does not cooperate and makes for the city regardless? The extra defenses will be lost to them.”

Miyako’s voice rose, with a touch of anger lying as an undercurrent. “And if those extra defenses were there? Would that save the city?” She paused and the air between the two Scorpion seemed charged. “You have your orders.”

“Yes, Miyako-sama.”

* * * * *

“Retreat? To the west?” Hida Kaihei was not one to question orders, but these came not from his superiors.

Bayushi Kaibara nodded. “These are my orders, and therefore yours, as the rest of the forces here have agreed to follow Scorpion command while in our lands fighting our common enemy.”

“Those orders would have us retreat from battle and move away from our position between our foe and its target.”

“If that is its target.” The Scorpion and the Crab both turned to see Akodo Kitaka, his Deathseeker paint streaked with battlefield grime, approaching.

“What do you mean, Lion?” Kaihei grumbled.

“Have you read any of Akodo’s writings, Hida-san? No? Bayushi-san?” Seeing a curt nod from Kaibara he continued, “By allowing your opponent to choose the battlefield, you are giving him a great advantage. By assuming that the beast’s goal is Closed Pincer City we have retreated in that direction. In fact, we have been drawing the beast right towards the place we do not want it to go.”

Kaibara listened intently and then said, “So if the city isn’t where it is trying to go, what does it want?”

Kitaka gestured to the field behind the god-beast. “What has it shown it wants? You spoke of the enemy’s conquest. I do not see a desire for conquest here. I see only death and destruction. It is not looking for land or cities. It is looking for us. It is our death. Ours and anyone else it comes across.”

Kaihei grunted. “So we change our path so it will follow. What does that change? Can we kill it?

Kaibara slowly shook her head. “No. We are bait. Draw it away from the city by sacrificing ourselves.”

No one said anything for a moment until Kaihei broke the silence by saying, “So be it. Sound the call.”

No samurai would ever admit relief when the retreat was called. That would sound too much like cowardice and no samurai would place his own life before that of his clan or Empress, but they also had eyes to see and ears to hear. They stood surrounded by blood and the cries of the dying and the crunching of their bodies. None of the blood belonged to their enemies and no death was inflicted by their blades. A true samurai would charge into battle, heedless of his own mortality, but this was not a battle. This was a massacre.

The Scorpion samurai were the most surprised by the orders to travel west, leaving the beast an open path to Closed Pincer City. But the Scorpion samurai were also comfortable with the idea that orders were not always meant to be understood. They were meant to be followed with faith that their superiors did everything for a reason. If they lived or died, it only need to serve the purpose of the Scorpion.

At first it seemed that Miyako’s orders were serving their purpose. As the samurai fell away to its right, the god-beast swung its great arms after them, bringing down the most rearward. For the first time, its path changed and with one earth-shaking step after another, it turned, as if to follow the insects that dared interfere with it.

At first.

Akodo Kitaka’s face screwed up in fury. “It is turning away! It is going back to heading for the city!”

Bayushi Kaibara, her face stone behind her half-mempo, only nodded.

“Now we need to attack from its flank! It has left itself exposed!” Kitaka was nearly apoplectic.

Kaibara shook her head. “Those were not my orders. I was told to lead the line to the west, no matter what the actions of our foe.”

Hida Kaihei never turned his eyes from the beast as he said. “Why?”

Kaibara said nothing for a full minute before saying, “She knew.”

“What do you mean?”

Kaibara chose not to speak further.

* * * * *

Shosuro Toson’s voice stayed monotone as he said, “They have retreated to the west, as you ordered. The creature has broken off and continues toward the city.”

Bayushi Miyako nodded and said nothing.

“The city defenses will fight to the last blade.”

“No. Evacuate the city.”

This time Toson was unable to hide the surprise in his voice. “Pardon, Miyako-sama? We are admitting defeat?”

Miyako glared at Toson. “It is a sacrifice.”

“To what end?”

Miyako’s voice was nearly a snarl as she said, “I would sacrifice any samurai to save the city. I would sacrifice any city to save the Scorpion. I would sacrifice our entire clan to save the Empire. I would do any of this, if there was any gain to be had. The walls of the city will stand no longer with Scorpion blades on it than if they had none. This creature will not be beaten by sword or arrow. It will not be defeated by subterfuge or trickery either. Another way must be found. It will be found or this thing will be the death of more than just one city.”

* * * * *

The god-beast tore through the outer wall of the city like paper. The stone buckled like a wave before fracturing, snapping and then exploding in a rain of rock dust. It strode into the city, kicking over buildings and sweeping others aside with long waves if its arms. Not everyone was able to get out of the city before the god-beast arrived, and the ones that were left mostly died as part of the general destruction. Stone and heavy timbers flew as if defying the laws of nature.

Those that avoided the initial onslaught were still found, as if the beast could detect and seek out any life. Whatever it found, it killed. Usually they were crushed beneath its feet or in its massive clawed hands. Some were actually bitten and chewed. It didn’t seem to do this out of hunger, other than a hunger to destroy.

Soon the city was no more than an impossible mountain of broken walls and broken lives. Where the city once existed as a symbol of openness between the Scorpion and the Crab – a false openness admittedly – it was now a symbol of failure and loss.

Discuss the events of this fiction in our Story Forum!

The appearance of the god-beast of Kali-ma, the Destroyer’s most potent weapon, on the front lines of the southern front throws the Empire into a desperate race to secure the Scorpion lands against seemingly inevitable disaster.

Unleashed Part 2

By Rusty Priske

Edited by Fred Wan

The earth shuddered beneath the feet of the god-beast. Whether it was due to the creature’s massive size, impacting the ground with a physical force previously unknown, or if the land was recoiling in revulsion at the thing’s touch was unclear. Where it stepped, the ground burned and withered. The air around it was distorted like heat off of flat stone. Its skin was black and cracked. It gave off the impression of fire, more than fire itself.

It was hard to get a good impression of what it looked like as the eyes of viewers ached like they were looking too long into the sun. Their minds could not interpret what they were seeing and convince them that it was real.

It moved neither slowly nor quickly. It was simply inevitable.

Akodo Kitaka spread white makeup on his face, preparing to face his end.

Utaka Jisoo snapped at the Lion Deathseeker. “What do you mean that this is our death? Do you recognize this creature?”

Kitaka shook his head. “I believe that you will find that no one living have seen this creature before. That does not mean that no one will recognize it. Most will know their end when they see it. Most will fight it, deny it, but they will still know it. Our death comes for us and it is up to us how we will embrace it.”

Bayushi Kaibara looked at the Lion for a moment and then said, “I only accept victory.”

Hida Kaihei snorted. “Once I would have said that there is no beast that cannot fall – no enemy that cannot be defeated. Then Kyuden Hida fell. Now, I know that we cannot lose unless our spirits break. No victory by the enemy, however impressive, shall stave off our wrath, but some battles cannot be won.”

Kitaka grunted. “Denial is a normal response. We will not find victory here.”

Kaibara smiled, grimly. “You misunderstand. I do not mean I think we will kill this thing, or even survive, just that we will know victory. To make an enemy’s conquest costly is a form of victory.”

The others paused, looking at the Scorpion and then, one by one, nodded.

* * * * *

Shosuro Toson stood waiting for a response from the one who now led the Scorpion Clan. “I mean no disrespect, Miyako-sama. With the recent developments none would question a need for a time of mourning. Another could bear these duties for you until you are ready.”

Bayushi Miyako was clad not in the garb of mourning, but the armor of her role as shireikan. The symbol of that position had been removed, however, and replaced by the mon of the Scorpion alone. She bore no rank. The only thing that could reveal her identity was her mempo, which once belonged to her husband, Bayushi Paneki. Her voice rasped as she said, “Yes. No one would question my right for time to mourn. And no outsider will recognize that I forego this for the Scorpion. The Crab lands have fallen, and I will not sit idle while the same happens to us. I did not desire this duty, but it has fallen to me. Now speak no more of him until you the day you tell me that the thing that wears his body has been found and destroyed.”

Toson, his expression completely hidden by his full-face mempo, simply nodded. “Would that I could, milady.”

“Then let us focus on the matter at hand. We were pre-warned by Yukimi, and have buttressed our defenses at Closed Pincer City.”

Toson nodded again. “Yes, Miyako-sama. If the front line breaches, the city is next in the path of the Destroyers and this beast that marches at their head.”

“And has the line held?”

“No. They appear unable to even slow it down.”

* * * * *

Hida Kaihei held a rag to the side of his head, slowing the flow of blood that streaked his cheek. His helmet was gone, lost when he was struck by a rock gouged from the earth by a random swipe by the god-beast. “Have the runners been sent?”

Kaibara simply nodded.

“My unit is ready for our charge.” Jisoo said, officially to the Scorpion, but it sounded more like a pronouncement than a report.

Kitaka was the first to step forward. He moved to Jisoo, looked at her for a long moment and then bowed deeply, formally. Kaihei repeated the actions of the Lion, though with less formality. Finally, Kaibara said, “May the gods ride with you, Utaku-san.”

Jisoo bowed to all of them and then turned to join her command.

Twenty Utaku Battle Maidens charged the god-beast’s flank. They knew their goal was to blunt the creature’s advance. Even small victories had been impossible to come by thus far.

They swept in like a scythe; steel flashing in reflection of the sun, until they reached the beast’s shadow. Without even seeming to glance their way, the god-beast swung one of its right limbs, as thick as the Great Wall itself. Black and red claws tore through the earth like an oar through water. Over half of the Utaku riders were swept from their mounts, horse and rider killed indiscriminately. Some were thrown clear, with such force that they were aloft long enough to become aware of their end.

Jisoo was one of those. When she struck the stony ground, the impact shattered what of her bones were still intact after the initial blow.

* * * * *

Asako Bairei sat in the library, surrounded by scrolls seemingly discarded haphazardly. He unrolled another quickly and scanned the contents, mumbling to himself. “No…no… nothing…”

Isawa Mitsuko barely seemed to move her feet when she walked. It was unclear whether the gliding effect was due to her own grace or to the support of the air kami with whom she communed, but neither drew Bairei’s attention when Mitsuko entered.

“No mention of the creature?”

“Nothing. I found some ranting about a fallen god, that may not actually be referring to Fu Leng as was previously thought, but there was nothing useful in it.”

Mitsuko winced. “I can feel the air around it curdle and burn. Air should not feel pain. We must find a way to stop this or more than just the people of Rokugan will pay the price for our failure.

Bairei flung the scroll in his hand across the room. “Do you think I am unaware of that? Our histories tell us nothing and the elements themselves are tortured by this creature. I have never felt this helpless before.”

Mitsuko sighed. “Not all the elements.”

Bairei nodded brusquely. “Ningen picked a very inopportune time to leave us.”

“Have you known Ningen to act capriciously? If he felt it was time to move on and leave his mantle to Isawa Kimi, we cannot question it. I am certain he did not do so out of ignorance. He was privy to knowledge where the rest of us could only offer conjecture. He knew we would have to turn to the Void and he believed that we should turn to Kimi rather than to him. If we would have had faith in Ningen, then we should have faith in Kimi as turning to her was Ningen’s choice.”

Bairei grunted. “Yes, it was his choice, not ours. I trust in what can be documented. Ningen’s explanations of his decisions have always left me wanting further elucidation.”

Mitsuko nodded. “Be that as it may, our only hope may lay in Kimi’s hands now.”

* * * * *

Bayushi Miyako leaned over the map displayed on the table before her. The map showed all of the Scorpion lands, though it would not be recognizable as such to one not trained in the Scorpion ways. Every marking, topographical, political, or otherwise was coded in such a way that a casual viewer would see the piece as some sort of artwork, done in a fairly abstract style. When Miyako looked at a cluster of marks, she did not see random paint strokes, however. She saw a city.

“There has been no slowing of its approach?”

Shosuro Toson shook his head. “No, Miyako-sama.”

“Then it will be on Closed Pincer City within two hours.”

“Yes, Miyako-sama. Defenses are poised and ready for its approach. We are fortunate that it moves slowly enough to give us ample time to move troops into position.”

“We have no reason to think that will be enough to stop it.” This was not a question.

“No, Miyako-sama.”

Miyako thought for a moment before straightening her back and saying, “Order a full retreat of the combined forces on the front line.”

Toson nodded. “I will send word immediately that they are to fall back to Closed Pincer City to buttress its defenses.”

“No. Tell them to retreat to the west. Full retreat, but not too quickly. Make it clear that they are beaten, but not routed. Give the beast a target it cannot resist. Let it chase them while we gather what information we can. All things can be beaten, even gods. We just have to figure out how.”

Toson’s mempo ensured his thoughts were not betrayed. “The army will be sacrificed, then.”

“But the city will not.”

“And if the beast does not cooperate and makes for the city regardless? The extra defenses will be lost to them.”

Miyako’s voice rose, with a touch of anger lying as an undercurrent. “And if those extra defenses were there? Would that save the city?” She paused and the air between the two Scorpion seemed charged. “You have your orders.”

“Yes, Miyako-sama.”

* * * * *

“Retreat? To the west?” Hida Kaihei was not one to question orders, but these came not from his superiors.

Bayushi Kaibara nodded. “These are my orders, and therefore yours, as the rest of the forces here have agreed to follow Scorpion command while in our lands fighting our common enemy.”

“Those orders would have us retreat from battle and move away from our position between our foe and its target.”

“If that is its target.” The Scorpion and the Crab both turned to see Akodo Kitaka, his Deathseeker paint streaked with battlefield grime, approaching.

“What do you mean, Lion?” Kaihei grumbled.

“Have you read any of Akodo’s writings, Hida-san? No? Bayushi-san?” Seeing a curt nod from Kaibara he continued, “By allowing your opponent to choose the battlefield, you are giving him a great advantage. By assuming that the beast’s goal is Closed Pincer City we have retreated in that direction. In fact, we have been drawing the beast right towards the place we do not want it to go.”

Kaibara listened intently and then said, “So if the city isn’t where it is trying to go, what does it want?”

Kitaka gestured to the field behind the god-beast. “What has it shown it wants? You spoke of the enemy’s conquest. I do not see a desire for conquest here. I see only death and destruction. It is not looking for land or cities. It is looking for us. It is our death. Ours and anyone else it comes across.”

Kaihei grunted. “So we change our path so it will follow. What does that change? Can we kill it?

Kaibara slowly shook her head. “No. We are bait. Draw it away from the city by sacrificing ourselves.”

No one said anything for a moment until Kaihei broke the silence by saying, “So be it. Sound the call.”

No samurai would ever admit relief when the retreat was called. That would sound too much like cowardice and no samurai would place his own life before that of his clan or Empress, but they also had eyes to see and ears to hear. They stood surrounded by blood and the cries of the dying and the crunching of their bodies. None of the blood belonged to their enemies and no death was inflicted by their blades. A true samurai would charge into battle, heedless of his own mortality, but this was not a battle. This was a massacre.

The Scorpion samurai were the most surprised by the orders to travel west, leaving the beast an open path to Closed Pincer City. But the Scorpion samurai were also comfortable with the idea that orders were not always meant to be understood. They were meant to be followed with faith that their superiors did everything for a reason. If they lived or died, it only need to serve the purpose of the Scorpion.

At first it seemed that Miyako’s orders were serving their purpose. As the samurai fell away to its right, the god-beast swung its great arms after them, bringing down the most rearward. For the first time, its path changed and with one earth-shaking step after another, it turned, as if to follow the insects that dared interfere with it.

At first.

Akodo Kitaka’s face screwed up in fury. “It is turning away! It is going back to heading for the city!”

Bayushi Kaibara, her face stone behind her half-mempo, only nodded.

“Now we need to attack from its flank! It has left itself exposed!” Kitaka was nearly apoplectic.

Kaibara shook her head. “Those were not my orders. I was told to lead the line to the west, no matter what the actions of our foe.”

Hida Kaihei never turned his eyes from the beast as he said. “Why?”

Kaibara said nothing for a full minute before saying, “She knew.”

“What do you mean?”

Kaibara chose not to speak further.

* * * * *

Shosuro Toson’s voice stayed monotone as he said, “They have retreated to the west, as you ordered. The creature has broken off and continues toward the city.”

Bayushi Miyako nodded and said nothing.

“The city defenses will fight to the last blade.”

“No. Evacuate the city.”

This time Toson was unable to hide the surprise in his voice. “Pardon, Miyako-sama? We are admitting defeat?”

Miyako glared at Toson. “It is a sacrifice.”

“To what end?”

Miyako’s voice was nearly a snarl as she said, “I would sacrifice any samurai to save the city. I would sacrifice any city to save the Scorpion. I would sacrifice our entire clan to save the Empire. I would do any of this, if there was any gain to be had. The walls of the city will stand no longer with Scorpion blades on it than if they had none. This creature will not be beaten by sword or arrow. It will not be defeated by subterfuge or trickery either. Another way must be found. It will be found or this thing will be the death of more than just one city.”

* * * * *

The god-beast tore through the outer wall of the city like paper. The stone buckled like a wave before fracturing, snapping and then exploding in a rain of rock dust. It strode into the city, kicking over buildings and sweeping others aside with long waves if its arms. Not everyone was able to get out of the city before the god-beast arrived, and the ones that were left mostly died as part of the general destruction. Stone and heavy timbers flew as if defying the laws of nature.

Those that avoided the initial onslaught were still found, as if the beast could detect and seek out any life. Whatever it found, it killed. Usually they were crushed beneath its feet or in its massive clawed hands. Some were actually bitten and chewed. It didn’t seem to do this out of hunger, other than a hunger to destroy.

Soon the city was no more than an impossible mountain of broken walls and broken lives. Where the city once existed as a symbol of openness between the Scorpion and the Crab – a false openness admittedly – it was now a symbol of failure and loss.

Discuss the events of this fiction in our Story Forum!

The front lines of the war with the Destroyers face a new and terrible truth as the dark goddess Kali-ma grows angry with the dogged determination of the Great Clans opposing her.

Unleashed, Part 1

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

            Hida Kaihei wrenched his weapon free of the iron prison that held it, freeing it only after a moment of tremendous urging. He looked at the length of the blade and grimaced. It was a bisento he had modified, shortening the shaft and thickening the blade. It had fared very well against the Destroyers thus far, but was showing clear signs of stress. He considered taking it to the Kaiu, but the poor weaponsmiths were completely exhausted from the constant deluge of repairing existing weapons and creating new ones. He had no wish to contribute to the situation, and resolved to correct the problem himself. He had modified it in the first place, so it was only fitting.

            “They fall back again,” a weary voice over his shoulder said. “Why?”

            Kaihei glanced at the Unicorn woman dismounting and rubbing her horse’s flank. “My uncle used to tell me that when someone gives you a free meal, don’t spend too much time wondering at the quality of the ingredients.”

            Utaku Jisoo looked at him in annoyance. “What is that supposed to mean?”

            “It’s hard to tell a lot of the time with my uncle,” Kaihei admitted. “He was a Yasuki, after all. But in this case, I think he meant that when you are given a gift you should be grateful and not ask too many uncomfortable questions.” He jerked his head indicate the battlefield behind him. “Be more like that one and just enjoy it, eh?”

            Jisoo looked past Kaihei to a lone Lion samurai wiping grime from his weapons and armor with a filthy bit of cloth. The white make-up that had once covered the man’s face was all but gone, erased with sweat and effort of hours of fighting. Once his equipment was apparently satisfactory in his mind, the Lion simply sat down where he was, leaned back against a ruined bit of wall, and appeared to go to sleep. “Bah,” Jisoo said. “Deathseekers are half-mad.”

            “Half mad and half warcat, perhaps,” Kaihei said. “Kitaka has the right of it, though. Rest. The demons will be back soon enough.”

            Jisoo closed her eyes for a moment. “Perhaps you are right,” she said, her voice sounding like a woman three times her age. “My horse needs water and rest as well.” She opened her eyes and turned back to the retreating enemy line. “Rest, though… that is the thing, is it not? Those demons need no rest. Why fall back?”

            Kaihei sighed. “We cannot know if they need rest, can we?” he asked. “Perhaps they simply need less of it.” He paused for a moment, picking flecks of metal from his blade. “But you are likely correct,” he finally added. “They do not sleep.”

            A third samurai appeared among them, moving across the battlefield with the silence of a cloud that crossed the sun’s path. “They have moved much more slowly since the Crab lands fell,” the newcomer observed. “No insult intended by mention of the tragedy, Kaihei-san.”

            Kaihei frowned slightly, but said, “None taken, Bayushi-san. You fought well.”

            “Thank you, I am honored,” the Scorpion said, bowing deeply. “Please, call me Kaibara.”

            The Crab nodded. “You are right, though, they advance much more slowly now, although I am uncertain why.”

            “They retreat with less effort on our part, though they fight no less enthusiastically,” Jisoo said. “There must be a purpose for it. What is different now?”

            “They hold our territory,” Kaibara said. “Not our in terms of Scorpion of course, but in terms of Rokugani land.” She nodded toward the south. “They hold territory. There can be but one reason that their advance has slowed.”

            “What is that?” Jisoo asked.

            “They are looking for something,” Kaibara answered.

            “Huh,” Kaihei grunted. “Whatever it is, I hope they find it and go back to their godforsaken gaijin lands.”

            “No,” Kaibara said quietly. “No, if they find it, I think we are in a great deal of trouble.”

* * * * *

            Weeks after it had fallen, the ruins of Kuni Shiro continued to smolder, filling the air with a thin haze that dulled the sunlight even during the mid-day heat. Two men made their way through the haze, navigating the ruins with obvious familiarity, neither speaking to one another. One cast aside what appeared to be a blackened scrap of paper, letting it fall from his fingers to crumble to pieces amid the shattered stone.

            Amid the ruins there was an open courtyard, the smoke clinging to it like a morning fog, and amid the courtyard there was a solitary figure. The two men approached cautiously, as they ever did; time had taught them that this was necessary. Even in the smoke it was clear that there was something different about the figure. Its flesh seemed to swim and flow like water, until finally, just as the two men emerged from the smoke, it settled upon a familiar if no less horrifying figure: that of a massive warrior with a tiger’s head atop its shoulders. “Legulus, what news?”

            One of the men stepped forward, his golden armor seeming brilliant despite the dimness. “The advancement goes well, my lord. The pace has diminished in order to set the majority of your still-human vassals to the search, as commanded. The reinforcement of the enemy’s front line with these Scorpion has introduced some new strategies, but nothing that cannot be overcome.”

            The rakshasa commander of the Destroyer horde nodded. “Kheth-tet?”

            The second man bowed, his bare chest a golden brown, his face painted with elaborate care. “The search continues moving northward, my lord, but as of yet there have been no discoveries of note. The Hounds find no trace of the scent they seek, and the records that have been recovered from all targets taken intact give no indication of our quarry or where it might be located.” He shook his head. “I do not believe it was within the Crab lands, master.”

            The tiger growl continued for a moment, but it grew quieter and disappeared. “That was to be expected,” the demon said. “It matters little. The Scorpion lands, however… that is a much more likely location. We will check their lands very carefully. Be sure to advance the lines sufficiently to give us ample room to search, but do not advance too quickly. The legions will trod the lands to mud if we are too hasty in our approach.”

            “As you command, master,” Legulus said at once.

            “Your will, master,” Kheth-tet answered.

            The demon regarded to the men carefully. “There is another matter which you should be made aware of,” it said, its tone almost regretful. “The goddess has grown angry with the temerity of our foes. Their blasphemous failure to capitulate before the inevitability of her forces has awakened the fullness of her rage. She intends to release her greatest weapon. Make arrangements for your forces to be clear of the area.”

            Legulus whispered a prayer to some ancient Yodotai god, and Kheth-tet made some arcane gesture of invocation. Neither said anything for a moment, but finally, Kheth-tet spoke. “Master… are you certain? We have not yet searched the Scorpion lands, and they could be torn asunder utterly.”

            “Have you forgotten the penalty for questioning your master?” the demon hissed, its voice low and menacing.

            “No, master,” Kheth-tet answered quickly, “but I ask this not out of willfulness, but rather concern for our greater purpose. Would it not be more prudent for us…”

            The demon flowed across the distance between the two of them like a thing of smoke and wind, striking the Senpet across the face and hurling him to ground. “Disobedient lout!” it roared. “I should flay the flesh from your bones, impudent fool!”

            “Forgive me, master!” Kheth-tet said, covering his face. “I meant no disrespect! Your will, and the will of the goddess, are my only concerns!”

            The demon stopped, one bloodied hand held aloft. “Filthy mortal!” it snarled. “Legulus! Help him up and go about your duties!”

            The Yodotai smirked as he helped the Senpet to his feet, and Kheth-tet quickly tore his arm away from his rival’s. Legulus disappeared back into the smoke from which the two had come, and Kheth-tet made to follow, but was interrupted. “Wait.”

            “Master?”

            “Do you understand your value to me, Kheth-tet?” the demon inquired.

            The Senpet was unsure how to respond. “I would hope that I am valuable in many ways to you, master.”

            “You are not unskilled as a warrior or commander,” the rakshasa continued, “although Legulus is your better in both regards.”

            Kheth-tet’s expression grew stormy, “Master, I…”

            “Be silent!” the demon hissed. “Your presence infuriates him, and your talents threaten him, pushing him to be more. That alone increases your value, but you are also no mindless soldier like he is, and your cunning is valuable to me.” The thing paused and turned to him. “What have you found?”

            The Senpet absently brushed blood from the wound on his cheek. “I have salvaged every scrap of paper that survived the immolation of this place,” he said quietly. “Unfortunately, I have found no mention of the name you seek. If these Kuni ever encountered Raniyah, the record either was not held here, or it was destroyed when the castle fell.”

            The demon growled low in its throat, a terrible, feral sound. “Get thee from my sight.”

            “Master,” Kheth-tet insisted.

            The tiger’s head turned toward him, malice and violence in its eyes. “I said begone!”

            Kheth-tet held aloft a scorched piece of scroll. “Master, putting the topic of the goddess’ search aside for a moment, I did find mention of a name you may be interested in. Adisabah, master.”

            The demon’s eyes flickered, and it snatched the scroll away from the mortal’s hands. It growled again, sniffing the paper. “You have done well. Now go. The god-beast will be unleashed soon, and you have much to do in the interim.”

            “Yes, master,” Kheth-tet said with a bow.

* * * * *

It was midnight in the Phoenix provinces, and the Master of the Void slept. Her sleep was far from restful, however. Isawa Kimi’s brow was soaked with sweat. She frowned and tossed amid her blankets, although none were there to see her. And her dreams were greatly troubled.

A dark temple, hidden in the farthest reaches of the jungle. A group of the faithful, numbering well into the hundreds. A sacred number of them, all chanting the sacred texts and willingly giving of their blood and flesh in some terrible ritual. A goddess, torn by the ritual they enacted, her selves turning upon one another until only one, the strongest, the darkest, the most horrible, remained.

A groan escaped Kimi’s lips. It was a low, haunted sound.

The faithful put the kingdom to the torch as the terrible, dark goddess waged war against the heavens. Again and again the gods rose against her, only to be cast aside by her cunning, her ruthlessness, and her dark power. Every time, the defeat was easier, as her faithful ruined theirs. Ultimately, they could not stand against her, and one by one, they fell before her power.

She shuddered in her sleep, her hand clawing at the blankets.

The dark goddess towered over her defeated foes, her laughter terrible. One among her enemies remained alive, its form broken, its mind shattered. The dark goddess looked upon her prey with malicious cruelty and reached out with her four taloned hands. Its flesh began to shift and change with her will, and the still-living divine flesh became something else.

Kimi moaned again, louder this time, and there was a rustling from the corridor beyond her private chambers.

The thing the goddess had wrought walked the ruined kingdoms as both the heavens and the mortal realms burned. Its mind was no more, nothing but pure bestial instinct remaining. Its divine flesh commanded power unlike anything that the kingdoms had known before. The few cities that remained within the realm were destroyed utterly by its power. Nothing could stand against it. It was the deadly form of a shattered god, a beast made of the gods. A god-beast.

“No!” Kimi shrieked, sitting upright on her mat, her breath coming quickly.

The door to her chamber burst open at once, and the bleary-eyed form of her yojimbo stormed in, two sentries beside him. “What is it, my lady?” he demanded, looking around the room for any threat. “Are you alright?”

It comes for the Empire now, little one, a voice whispered in her mind. Ruination alone will follow in its wake, if you cannot find the answer.

“Ningen-sama!” she shouted.

“What?” Shiba Yoshimi said, clearly confused.

Goodbye, little one. I will always love you as my own daughter.

Yoshimi turned to one of the sentries. “Go inspect Ningen-sama’s quarters at once! Ensure he is not threatened!”

“No,” Kimi said, her voice a sob. “Do not go. He is gone now, gone to be one with the Void. He is lost to us.”

“What?” Yoshimi repeated. “How can you know…” he trailed off and shook his head. “What is it you require, my lady? What can I do?”

She shook her head slowly. “I do not know,” she whispered.

* * * * *

There was a strange sound, distant and shrill. It would not stop. It seemed to go on forever. It persevered, keening on and on without ceasing, dragging him from the peaceful slumber he so rightly deserved. What was that sound? Did it seem vaguely familiar? As he finally struggled to complete wakefulness, Soshi Korenaga realized what it was.

He was screaming.

“Enough!” bellowed one of the guards. They had entered his chamber and he had somehow not known. “I have had my fill of your nonsensical ramblings, you lunatic! Will you not let up even in your sleep?”

“It is coming!” Korenaga rasped. “It is coming!”

The guardian shook his head, clearly accustomed to ridiculous outbursts. “Yes, yes,” he said, only slightly more calmly than before. “We understand.”

“Yukimi must be told!” Korenaga bellowed. “Summon her at once!”

The guard frowned and turned to his fellows. “He seems almost… lucid. I have not heard him say anything that coherent in months.”

“The wards will not be enough to protect us!” Korenaga virtually roared. “It will smell us! Smell what we have done here! It will come!”

The guard shook his head and lifted both hands in a placatory manner. “Listen to me,” he said in a calm, soft tone. “You have had a terrible dream, that is all. Please try to…”

Korenaga struck the man across the face with such force that his mask was hurled to the ground, where it shattered. His nails left two large gashes on the man’s cheek, sending him to his knees and cursing violently with the pain and surprise of it all. Korenaga disregarded him and turned to the other two men, his eyes almost blazing. “Summon lady Yukimi now! Now!”

* * * * *

            The first rays of dawn broke over the battlefield, and Kaihei stood atop a small outcropping of rock to survey that which was before him. As was his custom, he scanned the distant front lines of his enemies, searching for any movement that might have escaped their nocturnal sentries. There was risk in elevating his position in such a manner, but the Destroyers made use of ranged attacks only sparingly, and he felt spry and well-rested enough to dodge any boulders the larger, bestial-looking demons might hurl at him. As he scanned the horizon, he frowned. He shielded his eyes and peered closer, his frown deepening. Finally, he called back toward the others. “Jisoo!”

            The battle maiden sat bolt upright suddenly, her hand instinctively going to her weapon. She looked around at the others rising from their positions of rest, then finally looked up at the Crab warrior, annoyed. “You told me to rest and now you interrupt it?” she barked. “Is that what passes for humor among the Crab?”

            “You Unicorn have keen senses,” Kaihei said, ignoring her jibes. “What is that?”

            Jisoo scrambled to her feet and climbed up to join him, others rising behind her and peering in the direction Kaihei pointed. Jisoo, too, shielded her eyes and peered. “What is that?” she wondered aloud. “It looks like… is it a hill? Or a mountain, far in the distance?”

            “Not unless the Destroyers built one overnight,” one of the others remarked.

            Kaihei shook his head slowly. “No mountain stands there,” he said. “Where are the Destroyers?”

            “There,” Kaibara said, pointing at a sharp angle to her left. “And there.” To her right. “Their lines have divided. Look at the opening!”

            “Should we prepare to push forward?” one of the other soldiers asked. “We could reach the Crab lands again!”

            “What is that thing?” Kaibei asked again.

            “It… it is moving,” Jisoo said quietly. “I think I saw… yes, it is definitely moving.” Her eyes widened. “Is it alive? Could anything so enormous be alive?”

            “What do you mean, moving?” one of the ground-bound soldiers asked. “Move away, let me up there.”

            “It moves this way,” Kaibara observed. “Whatever it is, it moves this way.”

            “I know what that is,” a voice said quietly.

            The others turned toward him. “Please, enlighten us,” Kaihei said.

            “I have sought it for years, and throughout this entire battle,” Akodo Kitaka said, smearing a streak of white make-up on his face. “That is death, coming for us now.”

            The others stared at him, uncertain of what to make of his remarks.

            In the silence, the earth shook ever so slightly.

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