L5r - scroll 04 - The Phoenix

by Stephen D. Sullivan

  If he truly needed her, would she be there for him again, as he had been so many times for her?

  Tsukune pulled her sheathed katana from her obi, stuck the point in the ground, and leaned against the weapon as if it were a staff. The sun dipped below a tall peak, and darkness crept across the land. A shudder passed through Tsukune. It felt as though her samurai soul were crying out in fear. Cold sweat beaded on her body, and she shivered.

  She knew in her bones that something terrible had happened to her clan, and she knew that she was powerless to stop it.

  struggle

  Isawa Tadaka immersed himself in the bath, but the hot water couldn't wash the taint from his skin. He gazed at his face reflected in the surface of the liquid and barely recognized the man staring back.

  Sickly green veins traced across his throat and up his jaw to near his left ear. He frowned and rubbed his stubbly chin. The hand that did the rubbing was gnarled and shot through with green striations. Hideous arteries ran from the fingertips of both hands, nearly to his shoulders. Taint sprouted up again on his chest, a patchwork of venomous scars.

  What have I done to myself? Tadaka thought.

  He picked up a vial from the side of the tub and emptied its green powder into the water. Immediately, the bath roiled. Tadaka's skin burned as the jade mixed with the water. He scooped up the caustic liquid and rubbed it over his tainted body. He gritted his teeth

  against the pain and chanted a sutra to drive the taint away. For long minutes he burned and scrubbed, scrubbed and burned. When he stopped, the water in the tub was covered with an oily black film.

  The Master of Earth rinsed himself off with several buckets of clear water. He stepped onto the low wooden platform next to the round bathtub and looked at his body.

  His skin was pink with scrubbing. Signs of the taint had faded to a pale, yellowish color, but they had not vanished entirely. Tadaka doubted he would ever be rid of them. He frowned, dried himself with a cotton towel, and pulled on his fundoshi loincloth.

  He dressed quickly and mechanically, donning a crimson kosode, a black hood, and a red kimono decorated with flames and feathers. He fastened his black obi about his waist and stuck his daisho swords into it.

  "You know," said a familiar voice, "looking at you, a guy would never know what a wreck you are."

  Tadaka spun at the sound and said, "Ob! I thought I'd seen the last of you." Behind his hood, the Master of Earth's face fought between a smile and a frown. He gritted his teeth.

  "Sorry," the mujina said, smiling. "I haven't given up on you yet."

  "Well, I've given up on mujina, and other such foolishness," Tadaka said. He pulled on black woolen socks and donned his sandals.

  "Does that mean you've given up on yourself as well?" the mujina asked. "Your ancestor lost his name to a demon— remember? Don't make the same mistake."

  "Cursed imp!" Tadaka said, his eyes blazing. "What do you know about honor, or duty, or family, or sacrifice?"

  "I know you had honor enough not to kill that witch hunter," Ob said. "And you did everything to help those nezumi—including poor Mouse." The mujina flitted around the room and came to hover near the Master of Earth's right shoulder. "I've been watching you since you came home, and I don't like what I see. You haven't been acting like yourself—and it's not just the taint poisoning your blood. You Phoenix think you're so high and mighty, but you're really no more than anyone else—no better, no worse."

  Tadaka reached out as quick as a cat to snatch the mujina from the air. His hand passed harmlessly through the small red body.

  "See what I mean?" Ob said. "You know you can't touch me— but you're stubborn, and too angry for your own good. Of course, I can't touch you, either. If I could, I'd give you a swift kick in the backside. You know this is a stupid course you're following—but you're too proud and addle-brained to admit it. The only one with any sense in this whole castle is your sister, Kaede. You should talk to her more."

  The samurai shugenja shook his finger at the mujina. "I'll decide whom I talk to," he said angrily.

  Ob shrugged. "Suit yourself. But those Elemental Masters are going to get you killed—you, and a whole lot of other people. Sure, they mean well, but—"

  "We only do what we must!" Tadaka said.

  "What you must? What you must? You're talking about summoning an oni, one of Fu Leng's immortal demons! And why? To add a few more scraps of forbidden knowledge to your lore?" Ob flitted about the room and came to rest on the lip of the wooden bathtub.

  "You think you're doing it to save the world, but the truth is you don't know when to stop—just like your ancestor Akuma didn't know when to stop. He thought he could master an oni too, and look what it got him. He's dead, and an evil monster is stalking the land and wearing his name. It was a bad idea—both for him, and for the Phoenix. And this new brainstorm's no better. You'll destroy the world if you're not careful. Hardly worth the risk, if you ask me."

  "I didn't ask you!" Tadaka cried. He turned, drawing his jade studded katana in one swift motion. The sword cut the air and sliced the mujina neatly in two.

  The dumpy red body wobbled on the edge of the tub for a moment. Then its bottom half fell to the floor. Ob looked down at his missing torso.

  "How could you?" he cried. A look of horror and sorrow drew across his small red face. Then the mujina's bisected form slowly dissolved into pink smoke.

  Tadaka shivered, though he was not cold. A sneer formed on his dry lips. "I told you I could harm you," he said softly.

  "Tadaka!" a harsh voice whispered.

  The Master of Earth spun, but saw no one—the bath chamber remained empty.

  "Tadaka!" hissed the voice.

  The Phoenix shugenja moved to the fusuma separating the bath from his room. He threw it back. No one waited in his chamber. His futon lay undisturbed on the floor; his black lacquered chest rested against the far wall.

  The intangible voice laughed. Not a friendly, warm laugh, but a low, mocking rumble.

  "Show yourself." Tadaka cried. He stepped into the room and slashed the air with his sword.

  "I don't need to show myself Tadaka," the voice said. "I'm you."

  "What?" Tadaka snarled. Hideous shadows scampered across the room's painted walls and vanished.

  "Don't you recognize me? It hasn't been that long. Now that you've proved your worth, we'll meet again soon. Very soon."

  Tadaka's hooded eyes narrowed. "Junzo ... ?"

  The voice didn't answer, but the laughter continued, like a thunderstorm receding into the distance.

  As the sound faded, Tadaka collapsed to his knees. He looked at his katana. No blood stained the blade. It was as if the mujina had never existed. Perhaps, after all, Ob had been merely a figment of the Master of Earth's imagination.

  Tadaka looked at the fist that held his sword. The green stri-ations on the back of his hand flared brightly once more. Clearly the taint ran deep within his soul. No amount of jade or magic could ever wash it away. The best he could hope for was to keep it under control. Perhaps that battle, at least, he could win.

  the oracle

  Isawa Kaede woke from a terrible nightmare only to find that the nightmare was true. She sat up, clutching her heart. Sweat drenched her, dripping from her chin. She mopped the perspiration from her brow with the sleeve of her kimono. Despite the sweat, she felt overwhelmingly cold.

  They would summon an oni—her brothers, Uona, and Tsuke—there was nothing she could do to stop them. Even without her, they would carry on. Tomorrow night, they would meet in the council chamber and call forth a monster. She put her hands to her forehead and tried to rub away the headache that pounded in her brain.

  Something tugged at Kaede's mind. She looked around. Darkness consumed her room high in the central tower. An eerie silence hung in the chamber. Kaede's Void-enhanced senses told her she was not alone. Gradually, her eyes adjusted. Two men stood

  against the eastern wall. The man on the right was her father,
the Nameless One. The man on the left she'd never seen before, but she knew who he was—the Oracle of the Void.

  The man who had been Isawa Ujina stood quietly, his left arm dangled at his side. He didn't seem to be breathing. The Nameless One wore a black kimono trimmed with indigo kanji and decorations. His long black hair hung limply over his shoulders. He wore no expression, though the hideous scars burned into the right side of his face seemed to flow in the dim light of the chamber. Behind her father's eyes lurked the spark of life, purpose, and determination.

  The Oracle of the Void was an old man—very old. The care of ages wrinkled his face, creasing it until his features could hardly be distinguished from the folds of his skin. He wore a flat black robe with shiny filigree. His robes shifted as with an unfelt wind. He, too, seemed not to breathe—a statue. Only his shining black eyes showed signs of life.

  The Mistress of the Void stood. She dared not speak or make any noise.

  Simultaneously, both shadowy figures extended a hand— Ujina his left and the Oracle his right. "The time has come to leave," they each said, their hollow voices echoing. "Make your choice."

  Kaede looked first at the oracle, and then at her father.

  To the Nameless One she said, "Why must I chose, Father? How can I chose? You are my flesh and blood, but the Void is my soul."

  "Your paths diverge," the Oracle said, his voice like the wind over the mountains. "You must escape the doom that descends upon the Phoenix. No longer can you serve both family and self."

  "The others would destroy you, Kaede," the man who had been Ujina said. "I offer salvation. Follow me."

  "He, too, offers destruction," the Oracle said. "The destruction of self-fulfillment, the satisfaction of desire."

  Ujina frowned, scars creasing his face into a disturbing patchwork. "I offer power," he said. "The power to change things. The power to save your people—our people. Come with me. I can show you how to save the Phoenix."

  "I offer you nothing," the Oracle said. "I offer the peace of inner being and the surety of the Tightness of fortune. No worldly riches will you have if you follow me. All you will have is yourself. But that will be enough."

  "You know your brothers are making a mistake," Ujina said. "Let me show you what will happen if their path is not averted." He gestured, and a vision sprang up in Kaede's mind.

  Fire! The great palace Kyuden Isawa was burning. Flames leapt up its delicate battlements and ran across the intricate roofs. Smoke filled the gardens and poisoned the air. People fled, burning, or died where they stood—felled by the swords of undead samurai.

  Worst of all, the library—the knowledge of a thousand years— burned. Sparks jumped from scroll to scroll, sending blazing embers drifting up to the vaulted ceilings. The shugenja tending the stacks could not prevent the spread of the flames. Man and woman died in burning agony. Nothing was saved. Nothing.

  Kaede gasped and shook her head to clear it of the terrible images. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. She smelled smoke. She coughed and put her hand over her mouth, trying to quiet her stomach.

  The Oracle's calm voice broke the hold the vision had on her mind. "Now let me show you what will happen if you follow your father's path."

  Again, images sprang up in Kaede's mind. The vision was the same, smoke, and flame, and fire—the destruction of the Great Library, the deaths of her friends and retainers. This time, though, Kaede stood in the center of the blaze, clutching three scrolls to her chest. She laughed, a look of madness in her eyes. Then, she vanished.

  Kaede fell to the floor. Her breath came in short gasps.

  The man who had been Isawa Ujina looked at the Oracle, hatred blazing in his eyes. He turned back to Kaede. "I can give you knowledge," he said. "Knowledge of life and death, light and darkness. Knowledge of your mother."

  "My mother?" Kaede asked softly.

  "You always wanted to know about her—who she was before she died. I know. I can tell you."

  "Yet," the Oracle said calmly, "still you would have nothing. For all he offers, you would have no more than you have now. Your life would be no more complete. You would be no more happy than you are now. I offer you nothing—and everything."

  "Come with me," Ujina said, extending his one remaining hand. "The things we could do together ...! The knowledge that could be yours ...! Trust me, my daughter!"

  "Trust nothing," the Oracle said. "Trust no one. Find the answer in yourself—in the Void."

  Kaede sat on the cold wooden floor, hands propped behind her, barely holding her erect.

  The two men stood before her. Her father reached out, stretching to take her hand. The oracle stood placidly, holding out his palm. Ujina's eyes were frantic with need; the Oracle's eyes were pools of blackness.

  Kaede rose. She looked at her father, then at the Oracle, and then at her father again. She stepped forward, crossed the short distance, and placed her hand in the hand of the Oracle of the Void.

  The Nameless One's face was livid. He looked as though he might scream and shatter the castle's foundations. Yet, he made no sound. Instead, he turned away from his daughter, his body twisting into the darkness. His expression changed. The angry, scarred face dissolved, leaving only relief. The Nameless One turned into the shadows and melted away.

  Kaede turned and discovered that the Oracle had vanished as well. She blinked once, twice—unsure she was awake.

  A gentle rapping came on the pane of the fusuma door. "Kaede!" a voice whispered. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes, Ishikawa," she said. "I'm all right." She brushed a damp lock of hair back from her forehead.

  "I heard you cry out," he said. "Can I come in? I want to make sure you're okay."

  Her visitors had left no indication of their presence. "All right," she whispered, "come ahead." She pulled her obi tight, adjusted the folds of her kimono for modesty and straightened her hair.

  Ishikawa slid back the panel of her door and ducked into the room. He slid the fusuma closed. "You look terrible."

  "Thank you so much," she replied.

  He crossed the short distance between them and, for a moment, looked as though he might hug her.

  "I've had a vision," she said. "I must leave the casde."

  "Leave the castle?" he said. "Where will you go?"

  "Nowhere," she said, "and everywhere."

  Ishikawa scratched his head. "You're sure you're all right?"

  She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "I'm not all right," she said, "but I'm as good as I can be."

  "All right then," he said, nodding his head and looking puzzled, "I'll have your servants pack your things for a trip."

  She shook her head. "No. This trip I must take alone. No servants. No palanquins. No trunks."

  "Kaede, what's wrong?"

  "Nothing," she said, "and everything. I no longer belong here. I've been called by the Oracle of the Void. I must go."

  "Tonight?"

  "Yes."

  "With no servants. Just you and me."

  "You can't go, either, Ishikawa. You must remain behind."

  "I'd like to see you stop me," he said. "I didn't come this far just to let you wander off on your own."

  She smiled. "You're a stubborn man, Seppun Ishikawa—and a good friend. You can accompany my first steps, but once I begin the Way of the Void, we must part"

  He nodded. "I'll help you pack. Then we'll go and get a few things from my room."

  "All right," she said.

  She chose clothes, a few scrolls, and mementos of her brothers: from Tadaka, a jade arrowhead—one of the first he had made; from Tomo, a golden ring he had rescued from a sunken wreck; from her father's gifts, she chose an onyx comb. She took no reminders of the mother she never knew.

  Within the hour Kaede and Ishikawa had gathered everything they needed. In the moments before dawn they sneaked through the castle to the outer doors. The palace slumbered. The few guards who saw them took no notice of the Mistress of the Void and the former Ca
ptain of the Guard.

  Passing through the tall portal in the main hall, Kaede blinked back tears.

  "What's wrong?" Ishikawa asked.

  "I doubt I will ever see these doors again," she said.

  "I'm sure you will," he said, "in time." Nevertheless, he turned and looked back with her. The proud doors stood shut, the guards having closed them after Kaede and Ishikawa passed through. The carved kanji and spells glimmered in the darkness—whispering the strength of the Isawa.

  "I'll get us horses," Ishikawa said.

  "No need," replied a familiar voice. "I already have them."

  Kaede and Ishikawa turned to see Shiba Ujimitsu standing at the castle's main entrance. He held the reins of three fine Unicorn-bred steeds. Kaede and her friend approached the Phoenix Champion.

  "I cannot finish the trip with you," Ujimitsu said, "but I would be remiss if I did not see you safely on your way."

  Kaede bowed and said, "Thank you, Ujimitsu."

  "It would be an honor to ride with you, Ujimitsu-san," Ishikawa said. He, too, bowed. He and Ujimitsu helped Kaede into the saddle. Then they mounted their own horses.

  "I packed what provisions I thought we might need," Ujimitsu said.

  Kaede nodded.

  "How did you know?" Ishikawa asked.

  A slight grin tugged at the corners of the Phoenix Champion's mouth. "The Soul of Shiba came to me in a dream and told me to prepare for a journey." He tugged on the reins, and his horse moved forward.

  Kaede and Ishikawa did the same.

  "Did the dream tell you what the outcome of the journey would be?" Ishikawa asked.

  Ujimitsu shook his head.

  "One seldom knows the true destination during the beginning of a trip," Kaede said. Her dark eyes held a far-off, dreamlike quality. "And though I wish you could both finish this journey with me, in the end I must travel alone."

  Ishikawa looked at her and smiled, admiring her beauty in the predawn light. "I'll go with you as far as the Fortunes allow." "As will I," said Ujimitsu.

  Kaede smiled warmly at her brave samurai. Then all three of them turned their faces to the road ahead of them.