L5r - scroll 04 - The Phoenix

by Stephen D. Sullivan

  Sweat dripped into her eyes, but she blinked it back. Her army regrouped and forced the undead to retreat. Then she saw something that shot a chill through her heart.

  An undead maho worker, a blood-shugenja, appeared in the back of Hoturi's forces. He was tall and skeletal, dressed in an ebony kimono covered with skull designs. Chanting, he drew forth a black vial from beneath his robes. Tsukune started to yell a warning, but her words came too late. The shugenja tossed the vial into the front line of her troops. The glass burst into a green-black cloud that crackled like bones breaking.

  The samurai caught in the cloud screamed. First their skin and then their bones melted. When the cloud settled, nothing remained except armor filled with red ooze.

  The maho worker laughed.

  The undead army charged forward, pressing into the gap made by the terrible vial.

  "Retreat! Retreat!" Tsukune called. "Abandon the horses! Take to the river!" The orders were futile. In the frigid river, they'd surely be slaughtered by the enemy's archers. Tsukune's own archers had been slain.

  The maho worker drew another black vial from his kimono. He held it high above his head, chanting.

  Suddenly, an arrow whizzed over Tsukune's head. It flashed through the air and struck the vial in the shugenja's hand. The vial exploded in a green-black cloud. Inside the cloud, the maho worker screamed.

  The undead warriors beside him didn't have a chance to make a sound. They perished in the cloud's acid breath.

  Within the cloud, something clattered to the ground. A flash of lightning followed, ripping through the undead line. Something within the shugenja's robes must have shattered. The bones of the undead exploded where the lightning touched them.

  Thrilled at the turn of battle, Tsukune glanced back to see where the fortuitous arrow had come from.

  Standing on a wide rock, in the middle of the rushing river, stood Shiba Ujimitsu. He was dripping from head to foot, but somehow his bow looked dry. He slung the bow on his back, drew his katana, and cried, "For the Phoenix!"

  He leapt from stone to ice-slick stone, running toward the battle, his gait never faltering.

  A great roar went up from the Phoenix forces. Tsukune raised her sword high. "For Shiba and our ancestors!"

  Turning, she led her people back into the fray. Devastated by their own magics, the undead forces quickly fell before the flashing swords of the Phoenix samurai. When no unliving thing

  moved on the field of battle, Tsukune looked at the Phoenix Champion and smiled.

  "Once again, I owe you my life," she said, a lock of black hair dangling across her flashing eyes.

  He smiled back. "Your life is precious to our clan—and to me."

  She nodded, fighting back a blush. "Tell me, how is it that you always arrive at precisely the right moment?"

  "Would you prefer that I arrived too late?" he asked. "Chalk it up to experience and good advice."

  "I don't suppose you're staying long enough to share some sake," she said.

  He shook his head. "I'm needed elsewhere. Promise me one thing, though."

  "Yes?"

  "Next time you ride off from your main force, take more shugenja or send better scouts. This little excursion could have gotten you killed."

  "I'll remember," she said.

  He turned to go.

  "Ujimitsu," she called.

  "Yes," he said, stopping at the ice-crusted riverside.

  She bowed. "Sumimasen. Domo arigato gozaimasu."

  Ujimitsu smiled. "You're very welcome," he said. Turning, he dived into the frigid river once more.

  Again, time blurred. On his way home, Ujimitsu rescued a geisha trapped by bandits. He thwarted three kappa that were extorting money from religious pilgrims. A poet wrote a song about how the Phoenix Champion had driven fifteen goblins from the local woods.

  These were the exceptions—pleasant diversions in the champion's endless war. Most of the time, Ujimitsu battled the forces of Junzo and Fu Leng. Distressingly, he met them more and more often.

  Late one afternoon, he found himself on the edges of Mori Isawa, the sacred wood of his homeland. The setting sun dappled the wood in orange and deep blue. The champion had traveled long and fought hard, slaying zombies in the forest. He needed rest. Even the voices in his head had fallen silent.

  Ujimitsu discovered a fallen log by the path. He brushed a dusting of snow off it and sat down. He closed his eyes and ran his hands up his face, smoothing back his long black hair. He listened to the sound of his own breath and tried to relax. How long had it been since he slept? He didn't know.

  The log sank slightly, as though someone sat down next to him.

  Ujimitsu opened his eyes and was shocked to see a samurai dressed in his own clothes and gazing back with his own eyes. To all appearances, the figure on the log with him was Shiba Ujimitsu.

  "Are you real?" the Phoenix Champion asked.

  "Are you?" the other Ujimitsu reflected.

  "I've been in battle so long," he said, "I no longer know."

  "The Way of the Warrior is not an easy one," his double replied. "Your life—my life—has not been an easy one."

  "There have been times," Ujimitsu said. "Good times."

  The figure beside him nodded. "And bad times as well. The seppuku of your wife, the ... death of your daughter."

  "A long time ago now."

  "Yes. A very long time. Do you regret it?"

  "The deaths?" Ujimitsu said, annoyed. "Of course I do."

  "No. Not that. Becoming champion."

  Ujimitsu shook his head. "No. I don't regret that. Never. Not that I had any choice."

  "But if you had a choice, would you do what you have done?"

  The Phoenix Champion took a long, deep breath. "Yes."

  The double nodded. "I thought that's what you'd say. I would say the same." He stretched and put his hands behind his head. "Some day," he said, "all Phoenix lands will be as peaceful as this."

  "I live for that day," Ujimitsu replied.

  The double leaned forward, put his hands on his knees, and looked at his twin. "You may die for it, too."

  Ujimitsu nodded. "Hai, I know. Better I should die than our clan—or the empire."

  "The empire's not what it was, you know," the double said. He picked up a rock and threw it into the forest.

  "Even so," Ujimitsu said, "I serve it, as I do the Phoenix. Would you do differently?"

  His double smiled and shook his head. "No," he said. "How could I? I'm you."

  "We're not going to wrestle for control of my soul or my body, then?" Ujimitsu asked.

  "No. Thank the Fortunes. I'm far too tired for that."

  "As am I," said Ujimitsu. He rested his head in his hands, closed his eyes, and listened to the breeze rustling the pine boughs. "I wish this would last forever."

  "It won't, you know," said the double. "It can't."

  "I know that," Ujimitsu said. "I just wish it could. Sometimes 1 think the battles will never end."

  "They will," his double said. "The end is coming."

  "Soon?" Ujimitsu asked, his mind wandering among the trees.

  "Very soon. Too soon. You must prepare yourself. There are dark days ahead for the Phoenix. You will have to fight harder than ever before."

  "What about you?" Ujimitsu asked. He still had his eyes closed, but in his mind he saw the battles of a thousand years.

  "I'll do the same, of course," the double said.

  "Of course. What do we do next?"

  Ujimitsu's double didn't reply.

  The Phoenix Champion opened his eyes and found that he sat alone on the log. He sighed.

  Then he stood and adjusted the swords hanging from his hip. Time to move on. The champion had more battles to fight and precious little time to fight them.

  THE IRON FORTRESS

  The jellyfish swarm fell on Chihu like a pestilent wave. The ratling screamed and waved his hands, trying to ward them off. It did him no good. They surrounded him with the
ir long tentacles and wrapped him tight. Chihu fell, twitching, to the ground as the hideous blobs covered his body.

  Part of the school veered toward Tadaka and Mouse. The ratling girl started to run, but Tadaka grabbed her hand and stopped her. He pulled her next to him.

  "Be still!" he commanded.

  Mouse whimpered and shivered, but did not run.

  The Master of Earth chanted. His hat began to spin on top of his head. Faster and faster it whirled, until it was only a blur. The swarm dived at them. As it did, the stones ringing Tadaka's hat seemed to multiply. They fell in a great curtain from the brim down to the ground, encircling the pair.

  The bloblike monstrosities hit the spinning stone curtain. Whirling rocks smashed into the flabby bodies, dashing them to liquid fragments. For long minutes, the pulpy sound of stone meeting jellyfish continued. The translucent abominations howled their fury, but they died nonetheless.

  Safe within the stone barrier, Tadaka held Mouse's body close, lest she be destroyed by the whirling rocks. He wrapped her shivering tail around his right wrist, just to be sure.

  Finally, the flying jellyfish broke off. The swarm dissipated like mist on a summer afternoon, and the individual blobs flew back to their stump.

  Tadaka let out a long, low sigh. Mouse, who had stood as still and silent as a statue during the ordeal, whimpered. Tadaka's hat stopped spinning, and its stony barrier drew up like a curtain. The Master of Earth let go of his ratling guide, and she slumped to the ground, sobbing.

  Down slope, nothing remained of Chihu but clothes and bones. Tadaka took off his hat and examined the site. The stones around the rim crumbled to dust. He had used up every trace of power they possessed—but they had saved his life, and Mouse's.

  "I'm sorry we couldn't save Chihu," he said.

  The weeping ratling nodded. "Chihu should not throw stone."

  "I know," Tadaka said. "Even a small mistake in this awful place can be fatal. Come. We need to get moving. No telling what else this swarm may have stirred up."

  Mouse rose and looked around nervously. She saw nothing but cloying gray mist.

  Tadaka turned and hiked through a cleft between the black rocks, leaving the Howling Mire behind. Mouse scrambled after him. For a long time, they walked in silence.

  The country became broken, scarred by ravines and sharp outcroppings. Most of the rock was black and shot through with greenish taint. Always the luminous gray mist concealed the dangers that lurked ahead. The trail emptied into a high-walled ravine. The floor of the defile was covered with slick ebony glass, like a frozen black river.

  "N-not far now," Mouse said, her furry body still shaking. She was close to being overcome by their travails.

  The Master of Earth tested the black glass to make sure it would not give way. Then he and his companion ventured out onto the surface. Tadaka had trouble keeping his footing on the smooth rock. He cursed the hellish land for not aiding his travel. Mouse had fewer problems. Her padded feet and claws gave her extra traction on the slick stone. Her long tail aided her balance as well.

  Tadaka felt glad when, all at once, Mouse stopped and pointed to the cliff face. "We must climb."

  The rock on the escarpment was no friendlier to the Master of Earth, but at least it was rough and scaleable. Tadaka dug his lingers into small cracks and slowly made his way up the rock lace. Mouse clambered up quickly and easily like a rat up a tree.

  She reached a broad flat place in the cliff face and gave Tadaka .1 hand up. He pulled himself onto the rocky table and wiped the sweat from his brow.

  "Just over ridge," Mouse whispered.

  The sky had grown darker as they climbed. Now they no longer moved in a gray fog, but in a stormy gloom. Distant lightning cast nightmare shadows across the landscape. Tadaka used his hands to feel his way up the final few feet of rock. Mouse crept up beside him. He removed his pointed hat, laid it down, and peeked up over the top of the rock.

  A chill wind caressed his face through his black hood. Lightning Hashed in the distance. What it illuminated made Tadaka's blood run cold.

  A great fortress thrust up out of the valley below. Its iron walls entwined with the evil black rock of the Shadowlands. The fortress was tall—at least six stories in some of its towers—and sharp spikes encrusted its every corner. The windows of the high tower blazed red with fell light. The apertures looked like eyes, and the fortress's sloped roofs like gigantic brows. At the bottom of the wall lay a great door—the gaping mouth of Junzo's war machine. Spikes resembling huge teeth thrust down from the doorframe.

  The countenance of the Iron Fortress leered at the Master of Earth, as if daring him to venture inside.

  Mouse's furry face poked up next to him atop the ridge. "Can Mouse go home now?" she asked nervously.

  The Master of Earth nodded. "If you wish, yes," he said. "You've done your duty and I thank you for it."

  "Be careful careful, Tadaka-sama. Not get killed."

  "Stay safe yourself, Mouse-san," he said. "Are you sure you don't want to wait until my business is completed? I could escort you back through the Howling Mire."

  The ratling shook her head. "No. Mouse know swamp. Lived through twice. This place evil evil. Chills nezumi bones." She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

  "The Fortunes go with you, then," Tadaka said.

  His companion nodded and scrambled down the escarpment. Soon, the darkness of the ravine swallowed her.

  "I thought she'd never leave," a familiar voice said.

  "Ob," Tadaka groaned, "are you real, or an illusion brought on by exhaustion?"

  The mujina shrugged and patted his childlike body as he hovered near Tadaka's left shoulder. "I feel pretty real, at least to myself. You can't touch me of course, but..."

  "Don't be so sure of that," Tadaka said grimly.

  The Mujina looked at the Master of Earth and frowned. "Do you have a plan for getting inside?" Ob asked, his rubbery face looking almost comically annoyed.

  "I haven't studied the situation, yet," Tadaka said. He yawned. His mind felt clouded. He wondered how long it had been since he had last slept. "I need to rest before I advance."

  "I was only asking because, if you didn't have a plan, I might be able to help." Ob's voice seemed to come from a long way off.

  Tadaka sighed and allowed his head to dip back below the crest of the slope. "You? Help? I doubt it," he said wearily.

  "No, really," the mujina said, his voice drifting away through the gloom.

  Tadaka sat down and closed his eyes. "If you want to help, stand guard while I meditate."

  "Sure, I guard—as long as you listen," Ob replied. "You listening?"

  Gray fog consumed the mujina's words. Gradually, the fog turned black.

  xxxxxxxx

  Tadaka awoke to a rumbling sound that shook the escarpment like thunder. He had meant only to meditate, not sleep, .md cursed himself for having dozed off.

  Ob sat on a rock nearby. The mujina propped his fists on his bloated belly and twirled his thumbs in elaborate patterns. A broad smile cracked his round face as Tadaka looked at him.

  "I was beginning to think you'd never wake up," Ob said.

  A dull rumble came from the cliff top. "What's going on?" Tadaka asked, trying to regain his bearings. His brain still felt loggy. However long he had slept, it hadn't been long enough.

  Ob shrugged. "Something's up with the castle."

  Annoyed at the mujina's casual attitude, Tadaka crept up and poked his head back over the escarpment. Ob quickly came to hover near the Master of Earth's shoulder.

  From inside the castle's door, Tadaka heard a massive bolt being drawn back. A crack formed in the center of the gates and slowly, with a rumbling like thunder, they slid open.

  Shapes appeared in the tunnel beyond the portal. Men on horseback—no, not men, undead warriors, and not horses, but onikage—demon steeds. The phantom army rode out in pre-i ise rows. Green-veined black armor clad the skeletal bodies of both the und
ead samurai and their mounts. Goblins rode in I he army as well, and ogres strode among the onikage and their riders. There were oni, too—hideous demons bristling with horns, spikes, claws, and teeth. Some of the creatures were lamiliar to Tadaka; other types he did not recognize. He felt both relief and disappointment that the Oni no Akurna was not among the monsters. The fell troops marched in a never-ending stream, stretching back into the darkness and out of sight.

  At the head of the column rode a nightmare figure. He was dressed in rotting crimson robes. His white hair fell past his shoulders in a grizzled avalanche. His limbs were long and nearly devoid of meat. The bones of his skull shown clearly through the translucent skin on his withered face. His eyes blazed with the evil power of the Shadowlands. Green fire played up and down his moldering attire. He held a dozen blood-red scrolls tucked under his bony arms—a veritable library of dark magic.

  "Junzo!" Tadaka whispered.

  The mujina beside him grew pale.

  Rage mounted within the Master of Earth: rage at the corruption of this place; rage at Junzo's many crimes; rage that he had been forced to come to the Shadowlands once more. Silently, Tadaka unslung the bow from his back. He reached for a jade-tipped arrow.

  Ob's hand fell atop Tadaka's, and for a moment, the mujina felt solid. "Are you crazy?" Ob whispered harshly. "Even if you kill him, what do you think will happen then? You can't fight that entire army!"

  "Perhaps if I kill him, no one will have to fight that army," Tadaka said. A dreadful weariness still clung to him. He wanted this journey to be over.

  "So, you'll sacrifice yourself on the off chance that Junzo's death will break up the dark forces? Do you really think that will happen?"

  Behind his hood, Tadaka frowned.

  "Damn right it won't," Ob said. "Killing him probably wouldn't even slow them down. Look at the size of that army! Chances are they're heading straight for the Kaiu Kabe—the Carpenter's Wall. They've enough samurai, goblins, and oni to make a good assault, too."

  "The Crab will stop them," Tadaka said.

  "Maybe," replied the mujina. "They've got a better chance to do it than you do, at any rate. All you can do by taking potshots at that bunch is get yourself killed."