"I will review the troops," Hantei said. Ishikawa smelled death in the sickly sweet odor of the emperor's breath.
"Not tonight," Kachiko said gently. "It's late. You should
retire. Perhaps in the morning____" She looked at Ishikawa, fire
blazing in her dark eyes.
Ishikawa's resolve melted. How could he ask this sick youth to leave the royal chambers? "Yes," Ishikawa said to the emperor. "Morning would be fine. If you are well enough."
"Well enough," said Hantei.
Kachiko turned to Ishikawa. "I can manage him myself," she said. "Captain Ishikawa, thank you for your concern. You are dismissed." She put her arm under the boy's and led him to the exit. Ishikawa bowed.
The boy paused at the threshold as if listening and asked, "Is someone calling me? Father? Is that you?"
Ishikawa suppressed a shudder. Kachiko hurried the Shining Prince back to his own chambers.
When they had gone, Ishikawa slid back a fusuma panel at the rear of the room and left. He nodded to the guards outside the room; they nodded back. Only when he had passed into another wing of the castle did he breathe more easily.
He stopped and propped open a shutter overlooking the entryway to the castle. Sticking his head out, he inhaled deeply. The afternoon shadows had grown long, covering the courtyard below. Ishikawa recognized a figure walking toward the great gates.
He closed the shutter and hurried toward the entryway. When he arrived, he found his brother, Seppun Kiaku, speaking cordially with the guards. Ishikawa walked over to them. Seeing his brother approach, Kiaku bowed.
The younger man was neither as tall nor as broad as the captain of the guard. He did, however, share the Seppun's rugged good looks and well-honed muscles. Kiaku was dressed for traveling quickly. Only light plates of armor hung over vital parts of his body. Below them, he wore a simple tan kimono and hakima trousers. "Good to see you, Brother."
"And you as well," Ishikawa replied. "We should talk."
Kiaku nodded and bade good-bye to the guards. The two brothers turned and walked through the castle. They marched in silence through the high-beamed hall until they reached one of the many exits into the imperial gardens.
Ishikawa pushed back the shoji panel leading to the veranda outside, bowed, and said, "After you." His brother nodded and stepped outside.
They set a course beneath the cherry boughs, though the trees were now long past their bloom. "The garden seems dryer, less healthy than when I left," Kiaku said. "Even the flowerbeds have lost their color."
"Much like the land itself, I fear," Ishikawa replied.
Kiaku nodded. "Hai. Fall comes early this year. Soon the last vestiges of color will be washed away." He paused as if thinking, and then said, "What of the emperor? Any sign of him, or does Kachiko still have him under wraps?"
"I saw him just before you arrived."
Kiaku looked surprised. "You did? How is he?"
"Not well," Ishikawa said. "The plague clings to him like a leech. The plague and Kachiko—"
"That witch!" Kiaku said. "I sometimes think she conjured up this plague just to control the empire. Her first husband died after usurping the Emerald Throne, and yet, she married the new emperor."
"The Mother of Scorpions has many legs to land on," Ishikawa said. "And many ears to hear with."
"Not in this garden," Kiaku said.
"I wouldn't be so sure." Ishikawa said. He looked around as if expecting to find Scorpion spies behind the trees.
Frowning, he turned back to his brother. "I'm glad to see you looking so well," he said. "What news from beyond the walls?" he asked. "Are you recovered from the wound those maho-using bandits gave you?"
"Yes," Kiaku said. "Quite recovered." He stated it with conviction, though his face looked uneasy. His hand stole unconsciously to his side, and he rubbed his ribs for a moment. "I healed in a geisha house in Mura Kita Chusen."
Ishikawa laughed. "That's the brother I know!"
"Then I grew restless," Kiaku continued. "Despite the ache in my lungs, I rode south into the lands of the Crane."
"You what... ?" Ishikawa exclaimed. "That was a dangerous thing to do. You might have been killed. Even with the Phoenix helping them, the Crane could be overpowered by Hoturi's army any day."
"I saw Hoturi's undead burn two villages near Kyuden Doji. The Crane couldn't stop them, and the Phoenix were little help. The Phoenix are brave, and their shugenja are resourceful—but there are only a handful of them."
"Did you see Hoturi himself?"
"No, but I met many people who had seen him commanding the undead hoards."
Ishikawa crossed his arms over his chest. "I have trouble believing it. That's not the Doji Hoturi I know."
An ironic grin flashed on Kiaku's handsome face. "I'm sure the empress would say the same thing about Yogo Junzo," he said. He stopped walking for a moment and looked to the sky. Somehow, it seemed less blue than when he had left to recover from his wounds, scarcely seven weeks ago.
"What else did you see?"
"More than you want to know, Brother," Kiaku said. "After seeing the Crane lands, I rode south, being careful to stay out of sight. The Lion are sitting on their haunches, happy to let Hoturi destroy his own people. They sweep in behind the undead army, picking over the scraps like vultures. They've hated the Crane for so long, it's poisoned their judgment."
"Matsu Tsuko would let the world go to Jigoku if it would rid her of her enemies," Ishikawa said.
Kiaku nodded and sighed. "Hai. I think so, too. The Crab feel the same way. They're holed up behind their walls, massing for war.
"You rode that far south?"
"I needed to."
"In Shinsei's name, why?" Ishikawa asked. "Why did you go on this crazy errand?"
"I needed to see for myself what was happening. I'm tired of court; tired of the empress' intrigues; tired of rumors and secondhand reports; tired of these white walls. I want to do more."
"As do I," Ishikawa said. "But it's futile. Our duty is with the emperor. Unless Hoturi marches against Otosan Uchi itself, there's not much we can do."
Kiaku looked at the grass. The thin blades had already begun to turn brown and brittle. "Not much we can do as long as we stay here," he said. He sighed. "Sometimes, I think the Unicorn have the right idea."
"The Unicorn?" Ishikawa scoffed. "I think they'd rather protect peasants than defend Otosan Uchi."
"Can you blame them?" Kiaku asked. "Peasants tend the land, make the earth grow, harvest the food, weave the cloth. What do we do here except wait for orders from a dying boy, or dote on the whim of an empress nursing her hatred for those who killed her husband and son?"
"Careful," Ishikawa said, his hand unconsciously stealing to the hilt of his katana. "That kind of talk could get you executed."
"I know it," Kiaku replied. He reached up and plucked a shriveled cherry from a nearby tree. "But hatred bears bitter fruit," he said. "We all need to remember that—even the empress. Especially the empress." He put the cherry to his lips and quickly spit it out. "Ugh! This fruit is rotten, too."
By silent agreement, the two men began walking again.
"In all my time on the road," Kiaku said, "I never felt much hope that these wars would end. The only one who's really fighting the enemy is Toturi the Black. He doesn't have many men, and they're mostly ronin, but at least he's free to act as his conscience dictates."
"Free to act without honor—and deservedly so," Ishikawa said. He turned and spat. "The emperor was right to cast him out."
"Perhaps Toturi seeks to make up for his mistakes," Kiaku said thoughtfully.
"He can't make up for them," Ishikawa said angrily. "He should have been there when Hantei the 38th was murdered. If he'd done his duty, maybe the empire wouldn't be in thrall to a sick boy and a scheming Scorpion. When Toturi was needed, he was nowhere to be found."
"You give him no credit for restoring the throne?" Kiaku asked.
"Not much," Ishikawa said.
"If Kaede and I hadn't spirited the boy emperor away ..." A faraway look came to his eyes, and his anger faded.
"Hai," Kiaku said. "Things would have been very different. Perhaps Toturi would still sit on the throne. And if he did, who is to say whether we would be better off? But ask yourself this, Brother, if you had lost your honor, as he has, would you still fight for the empire as Toturi does?"
Ishikawa frowned. "That's a foolish question."
"Not so foolish," Kiaku said. "I've been thinking about it quite a lot."
"Then you're wasting your time," Ishikawa said. "Our duty is here, with the emperor."
"And with Kaede?" Kiaku added, raising his eyebrows.
"When the two coincide, yes," Ishikawa said testily.
"But if the two were to conflict," Kiaku asked, "which would you choose?"
Ishikawa stopped and turned away, facing the withering cherry trees rather than the broad ocean before them. "That's not something I think about," he said.
Kiaku came and stood next to his brother's shoulder. Looking into the distance, past the mighty waterfall and out to sea, he said, "But we must think, Brother—especially now. We need to consider how we can best serve the empire."
"My duty is here," Ishikawa said sternly.
Kiaku nodded. "Hai. Perhaps, for you, it is." Then he added, "Maybe you could talk to Kaede when she returns. Perhaps you could convince her that the Phoenix should put all their effort into ending this war. After all, they can't hide in their castles forever."
Ishikawa looked at the sky. A black cloud scudded across the sun. He wondered if the cloud was smoke from some distant battle. "I fear," he said finally, "that the Phoenix will sit in Kyuden Isawa until their library burns down around their ears."
JOURNEY TO DOOM'S THRESHOLD
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f[sawa Tadaka caught a boat south at a port near Kyuden Isawa. The transportation was better suited to his brother Tomo, but Tadaka put up with it. Traveling by ocean meant he could avoid the clashes on the continent. He didn't want to waste any time or energy fighting useless battles. Isawa Uona chanted a fair wind into the ship's sails before Tadaka left.
The captain of the ship was a Mantis trader named Otomu. Otomu was a tall, burly man who laughed frequently. Lines of tattoos ran up his arms onto his shoulders. His head was shaved bald, though he sported a long, thick mustache, the corners of which drooped past his chin. Though not opposed to profiting from war, his sympathies lay more in supplying aid to the disenfranchised—at a handsome markup. He treated his rowers with respect, and favored the crew with sake and good white rice when he felt they deserved it.
Otomu's ship skirted the coastline, stopping
each night—when possible—for supplies and safe harbor.
During the trip, Tadaka often stood near the prow of the ship, listening to the waves and watching the land drift by. For the most part, the shoreline showed little evidence of the strife on the mainland.
From sea, the castle in Otosan Uchi still looked like the white-walled palace of fable. Fudotaki, the great waterfall, sprayed a cloud of brilliant haze high into the air. The mist caught the sunlight, ringing the palace with rainbows in the afternoon sun.
Nearly two years had passed since the Scorpion Coup, and the great city had been largely rebuilt. The walls of the Forbidden City were never breached during the revolt and still stood proud, tall, and impenetrable. Watchers on the ship saw no sign of the illness that held sway inside the palace. Neither the sailors nor Tadaka could have guessed the troubles that plagued the emperor and his wife.
As they sailed past the lands of the Crane, signs of war became more apparent. Black smoke smudged the sky, and occasionally samurai fought along the shore. Wanting to avoid trouble, Otomu had laid in enough supplies for this portion of the trip. He anchored his ship offshore when his crew needed rest. Even then, they set guards, lest raiders should row out to assault them.
Those nights were tense, even for Tadaka. Often, he stayed awake until dawn, keeping watch and summoning the power of the earth far below the keel of the ship. Otomu didn't like stopping, either. Some nights, they just sailed on. The crew rowed to supplement Uona's winds—which were flagging now that they'd left Phoenix lands far behind. The crew took the oars in shifts until they could row no more.
Tadaka's heart sank when he saw Kyuden Doji, at the heart of the Crane provinces. Even distance and fog could not conceal the damage to the mighty Crane palace. Fires burned outside the walls, and Tadaka wondered if the castle lay under siege, or if it had already fallen.
Beyond the castle lay the Seikitsu sano Yama no Oi, the Spine of the World Mountains. The great peaks tumbled down to meet the ocean, their massive cliffs causing the sea to fly up in towers of spray and foam. Tadaka marveled at the mountains' power and majesty. No matter how often he saw them, he never grew tired of the sight. Even from this distance, he felt their vigor. In his heart he heard the song of stone calling to him.
Once they passed the mountains, the smoke of war lessened. Tadaka knew that many Crane had retreated here, into Asahina lands. He wondered if Shiba Tsukune and Shiba Ujimitsu were among the refugees. He had heard no news of Ujimitsu for some time, and that worried him. The Phoenix Champion was not dead—if he had been, a new champion would have risen from the ashes to take his place. Still, that did not mean Ujimitsu was having an easy time of it.
After passing the mountains, Captain Otomu set ashore. The ship's supplies had grown thin, and the men needed rest. For their landing, they found a small village in a quiet cove. While harbored there, they heard news of fighting in the foothills of the Spine of the World, but the peasants could offer nothing more.
The next morning Tadaka, Otomu, and the crew set out on the final leg of their trip. They skirted the peninsula at the southern tip of Crane lands and made for the Crab coast. Later, the captain would return with his men to Niwa Shita no Kage Toshi, the palace of the Daidoji Crane. First, though, Otomu had been well paid to set the Master of Earth down where Tadaka desired.
The crew grumbled when they realized where Otomu was leading them. His stern gaze—and promises of extra sake—quieted them soon enough. They set Tadaka ashore on the edge of the Yugure Yama, the Twilight Mountains. Years of war with the Shadowlands had taken their toll on this land. Tadaka felt the pain of the earth when he first set foot to soil. Waving good-bye to Otomu, the shugenja-samurai steeled himself for the ordeal to come.
He had landed south of the Kaiu Kabe, the wall protecting the Emerald Empire from the Shadowlands. Here, the bones of the mountains shielded the people of Rokugan from the minions of Fu Leng. Past the mountains, another barrier lay between good and evil—Kuni Areno—the Kuni Wastes.
Originally controlled by the Crab, this fertile plain had fallen victim to Shadowlands forces. The Crab had regained the area only after centuries of brutal warfare. Endless battles, both physical and magical, destroyed all life in the plain. Now nothing remained but a vast wasteland. Only half-mad Kuni shugenja lived there, though Kuni witch hunters patrolled the area, too, rooting out and destroying Shadowlands influences. Tadaka would not have to cross the Kuni Wastes during the outward part of his journey—though he might have to on his way home.
He set sandal to stone, and the power of the earth flowed through his veins. In the distance, he felt the corruption of Fu Leng seeping into the sacred land. Tadaka had come here many times before, to fight Shadowlands creatures, but he never grew accustomed to the evil taint.
Calling on ancient magics to lighten his feet and guide his steps, Tadaka set a course west, toward the Shadowlands. He fairly flew across the countryside, running faster than a horse could gallop. The difficult terrain presented no problems for him. The land itself was his friend—it did everything possible to ease his passage.
At the end of the second day, he stood on a low ridge above the Shadowlands and gazed down into the evil
desolation below. Gray fog quickly sprang up in the morass, limiting his vision. Everything in sight looked black and corrupt. Nothing wholesome grew here.
Somewhere beyond the clinging mist, at the center of the Shadowlands, where all the earth became dead and soulless, lay the rotting corpse of Fu Leng. The evil kami had fallen from heaven and died at the hands of Shinsei and the Seven Thunders. Now he waited asleep in his crypt, corrupting all he touched and preparing to rise once more. The time of his awakening drew near; Tadaka could feel it. The earth screamed ever more loudly with the Evil One's presence.
Fu Leng was a distant threat, though, and Tadaka hoped never to see his foul mausoleum. Nearer than Fu Leng's tomb lurked Junzo, the Evil One's herald. How much nearer, the Phoenix shugenja couldn't guess. He knew only that many dangers loomed between this place and his goal. The Master of Earth readied himself for the ordeal.
He checked his weapons. His katana and wakizashi were in order, honed fine and studded with jade along their length. The green stone, sometimes called Amaterasu's Tears, was proof against Shadowlands magic and deadly to Fu Leng's minions. Tadaka also carried simple jade tokens, adaptable to whatever use he might need, and a supply of jade darts and daggers. A large jade amulet hung at his throat. The talisman was his chief protection. It would absorb evil Shadowlands energies during his trip, gradually blackening as its power waned. A bag of jade powder at his belt would cleanse any wounds he sustained.
Wounds would be his greatest threat. Even the smallest cut might become infected with the Shadowlands taint. Those tainted soon became creatures of evil, pawns of Fu Leng. Tadaka didn't know if even his great power could ward off the unholy disease.
He inhaled deeply. The air of the mountains was sweet, though it contained an undercurrent of the blasted landscape below. This would be his last breath of clean air for a long time.
Clearing his mind, he chanted prayers to the earth, Amaterasu, and the Seven Fortunes. Tadaka adjusted the yumi bow and quiver of jade-tipped arrows on his back and the pouches of supplies at his belt. Then he descended into the dark mists.
L5r - scroll 04 - The Phoenix Page 7
