"My lady," Ishikawa said, shouting to make his voice heard above the thunder, "it's crazy to be out on a night like this. Retire to your chambers, I beg you."
Kaede shook her head. "No," she said. "No. Something is wrong. I need fresh air to clear my head."
"But the storm will only make your malady worse," he said.
"I thought that at first," she said, "but now, with clean air in my lungs, I wonder...."
"Wonder what?"
"I wonder if I am indeed ill, or if something much more terrible is happening."
Lightning flashed again. Kaede glimpsed two figures dashing through the rain to one of the gardens' many gazebos. Even at a distance, she recognized the wardrobe of the royal heir, Hantei Sotorii.
"The weather is playing on your mind, I fear," Ishikawa said. "Come inside, please!"
A bolt of lightning struck the main tower of the keep. Crashing thunder shook the central palace to its foundations. The flash left Kaede and Ishikawa momentarily blind.
A great wailing burst from within the castle.
"What is it?" Ishikawa asked, peering through the storm toward the feasting hall.
Kaede's face had gone as white as rice paper. Though her senses had been dulled by poison, in her soul she knew what had happened.
"The emperor is dead," she said quietly, her voice sounding as though it came from very far away.
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Bayushi Tetsuo and Yogo Miyuki stood in a small high room in the Scorpion residence within the castle. They'd thrown back the shutters so that they could see the city outside. Rain pelted into the chamber, soaking the floor and the nearby rice paper screens.
"Stop pacing," Miyuki said peevishly. "You're making it difficult to concentrate."
"I just don't like leaving the lord in a time like this," Tetsuo said, stopping only momentarily before resuming his course around the room.
"We all have our parts to play," Miyuki said. "Shoju needs you to lead the forces in the castle; he needs me to coordinate our sorcerers. Rest assured, our lord will fulfill his destiny."
"I know he will, but..."
"Wait," said Miyuki, holding up one slender hand. A sly smile of satisfaction crept over her pretty face. "It is done," she said. "Go! I'll signal our forces outside the castle."
Tetsuo nodded, said, "Hai!" and dashed from the room.
Miyuki raised her arm and pointed it out the window. Her fingers traced intricate signs in the air. A ball of energy streaked from her fingertips and into the sky beyond the castle walls. When it reached the outskirts of the Forbidden City, it burst into a bright, white bolt of lightning.
The Scorpion forces outside the castle wall saw the signal and began their carefully planned assault.
"For the empire!" Miyuki said, her voice hardly more than a whisper.
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For a moment, silence reigned in the great feasting hall. Then a terrible, piteous wail arose from the emperor's guests.
"He's killed the emperor!" someone cried.
In an instant, Shoju's partisans sprang into action. They withdrew their smuggled weapons from their kimonos and laid about them, attacking anyone who posed a threat to their Scorpion lord.
Shoju himself slaughtered two yojimbo as the bodyguards raced—far too late—to protect the emperor. Yashin sang as it drank their souls.
Kachiko buried her hairpin in the neck of the nearest guard before he even knew what was happening.
In a moment the feasting hall was filled with men and women fighting for their lives. Amid the chaos strode the lord of the Scorpions—calm, controlled, supremely confident.
The revolution spread out from his single sword strike. It filled the great hall and swept beyond the palace.
Even now, Shoju's samurai and ninja were sneaking
through the water tunnels beneath the Imperial Precincts. Soon, they would spring out and take the Forbidden City.
Simultaneously, his samurai outside the enchanted walls were throwing off their false faces. Many had come to Otosan Uchi disguised as peasants. Now they showed their true colors—Scorpion colors. The outer city would soon be theirs.
The Emerald Guardsmen would not be able to stop them. Moments ago, the guards had been relaxing at Scorpion-controlled tea houses. Now they were dying at the hands of Kachiko's ninja-ko geisha.
Most importantly, at this very moment, Junzo, Bantaro, and their men were opening the city's enchanted gates. The shugenjas' subtle spells had subverted the Forbidden City's walls. Unknown to the loyalists that manned them, the city's defenses were now under Scorpion control.
Soon the city would belong to Shoju.
He whirled in the air and split the man nearest him in two. The tattoo on the Scorpion's lame arm burned with lusty fire. Yashin sang its glorious song of blood. Behind his mask, a cruel smile drew across the Scorpion lord's face. Victory was close at hand.
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Seppun Daiori raised himself from the tatami. He'd been thrust to the floor in the initial fight and, until now, had had no room to stand. As he tried to get up, the wound in his side— the one he'd gotten in the battle that killed his brother—flared up again. It had never healed properly. Now it felt as though a knife stuck under his ribs. He grimaced in pain and groped for something to hang onto. He found an offered hand.
Daiori looked up and saw Doji Shizue, pale and shaking with fright. "All is lost! Lost!" she whispered plaintively.
"No," Daiori grunted. She helped him to his feet. "We may yet escape—live to fight another day."
He touched the painted panel behind them. It slid open, revealing a short hallway beyond. "Come," he said, entering the passage and pulling the lame girl after him.
As they ran, Doji Shizue wept.
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Bayushi Aramoro sat on a lacquered seat near the door to the room. He frowned beneath his mask. It galled him to have to sit while so many were fighting for the future of the empire. It galled the young man Aramoro was protecting as well.
"Why did they bring me if they won't let me fight?" Bayushi Dairu asked.
"Your mother is concerned about your safety," Aramoro said. "And your father—my brother—is wise enough to know that a battle is at its most dangerous in the chaotic opening moments."
"Yes, yes, I know all that. But wouldn't you rather be fighting?" Daimu drew his katana and made a few practice cuts in the air.
Behind his mask, Aramoro smiled. "Of course I would." He fingered the hilt of his sword. "But there'll be enough fighting—enough blood—for everyone by the time this is over. You mark my words."
Aramoro didn't usually like speaking. He was a solitary man, self-possessed and focused on his mission—the perfect ninja. Somehow, his nephew always drew the speech maker out of him.
"But I—" Dairu began
A hand signal from his uncle silenced him.
Shadows fell on the fusuma walls of the room. The figures of samurai danced on the rice paper. Their voices could be heard without.
". . . Killed the emperor!" one cried. "Damned traitors!" said another. "Don't stand around," said a third. "Kill them all! Let's go!"
With that, the lead man threw back the sliding door to the Scorpion Heir's chambers. Seven samurai charged into the room, their katanas raised high.
The face of the first hit the floor before he had crossed the threshold; his head was no longer attached to his body.
The next three muscled their way inside. Aramoro killed two with swift strokes from shoulder to hip. The third got past the master of ninjutsu.
Dairu ran his sword through the samurai's neck. He fell gurgling to the floor. Dairu felt queasy. He'd never killed a man before.
The fifth attacker proved more worthy than the first four. He was a large, wiry samurai with red hair and a long mustache. Rather than a sword, he wielded a tetsubo, a long iron staff. Using the staff to parry, he bore forward, warding off Aramoro's attacks as he came.
The ninja master backed into his nephew. Tha
t nearly proved his undoing. The samurai clouted him on the side of the head. Aramoro reeled and fell. The big man whirled his staff and connected with Dairu, hurling him backward.
Before the samurai could finish Dairu, Aramoro pulled a weighted chain from within his robes. He flung the weight at their attacker. The chain wrapped around the man's right wrist. Aramoro pulled.
The samurai staggered and fell forward. Aramoro's sword was waiting. It ran him through the chest. Though dying, the samurai wasn't done. Flailing blindly, he fell full-force on Aramoro. The chain on the samurai's wrist entangled them both. Together they crashed to the floor.
The two remaining samurai stormed into the room, intending to finish off the fallen Scorpions. Dairu and Aramoro struggled up as the samurai raised their katanas.
The swords never descended. The attackers suddenly stood still, confusion written across their faces. Blood leaked from the mouth of one and the nose of the other. They collapsed dead on the floor.
Behind them stood Bayushi Tetsuo, his sword dripping.
Tetsuo smiled at his cousins. "What are you two waiting for?" he asked. "Come join the fight."
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"The throne room. We must get to the throne room," Seppun Daiori said. He pulled Doji Shizue behind him as he ran through the palace's twisting corridors.
The girl staggered. Her crippled leg made it nearly impossible for her to keep up. Tears streamed down her pretty face. Her long white hair trailed out behind her like a cape, billowing as they ran.
"W-why the throne room?" she asked.
"Because if there are any loyalists left to make a stand," Daiori said, "that is where they shall make it. Perhaps the heir is there as well."
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The throne room was on Shoju's mind, too. He thrust Yashin through the belly of a samurai. The bloodsword sang as it drank the man's soul. The Scorpion lord looked around.
Resistance had died quickly in the great hall, along with many of the revelers. Moshi Seji knelt in the center of the floor, surrounded by Scorpion guards. On his lap, he cradled his dead twin, Taro.
Miya Matsuo, one of the emperor's favorite courtiers, lay dead near his lord. Two of Matsuo's daughters cowered by the door. The third, Shoju reminded himself, had left with the Hantei whelp.
Miya Satoshi, the son of the herald, still struggled against
Shoju's men. His father, Yoto, lay where he sat during the feast. Miya Yoto had collapsed soon after the fighting broke out. From this distance, Shoju couldn't tell whether the old man was dead or alive.
All of the emperor's guards had died fighting. They fought bravely, as true samurai. Shoju felt glad the Emerald Champion had not been there to lead them this evening.
Looking around, Shoju noticed with pride that few of the fatalities in the room were Scorpions.
Most of the loyalists hadn't fought at all. Rather, they had quickly bowed their heads in surrender. Unarmed and outnumbered, they knew they were no match for the Scorpion's host.
Among the prisoners were Sorai, the troublemaker, and Bake, the emperor's toady. The two men stood quietly among the other captives, biding their time. Shoju suspected they were waiting to see how the conflict ended before choosing sides.
When the fighting broke out, Bake had clutched the scroll of Daijin to his breast—apparently willing to shield the artifact with his life. He had been lucky that no one saw fit to kill him for it.
Shoju walked to where Bake stood and held out his hand. Reluctantly, Bake handed him the scroll. Shoju had one of his people hurry it into safekeeping.
At a signal from their master, Shoju's men began to herd captives into one corner of the room, away from the doors and secret exits. As the group passed Shoju, Moshi Seji cried out and lunged for the Scorpion daimyo.
Shoju spun, Yashin screaming in his mind. He saw the face of the doomed youth clearly and twisted the sword in his hand. Yashin's pommel crashed down atop Seji's head. The boy slumped to the floor, unconscious.
The song of the sword grew angry. Shoju ignored it. The sword was not his master. There had been enough killing here.
Shoju's men dragged Seji away with the others.
The Scorpion lord turned toward his wife.
Kachiko smiled back at him.
"Any unaccounted for?" he asked.
"Daiori and the girl, Shizue," she replied. "Plus those who left before your speech."
The Scorpion frowned. "Time enough to round them all up," he said. He pointed to one of his samurai and said, "See that the prisoners do not escape. Kill anyone who tries."
The man clicked his heels, bowed, and said, "Hai!"
Shoju turned to his wife. "Find your handmaidens and check on the situation outside. Report to me as soon as possible."
Kachiko nodded and disappeared through a nearby sliding panel.
"Come," Shoju said, gesturing to a number of his followers. "Our destiny lies in the throne room." The group broke off from their fellows and followed the Scorpion as he left the great hall. The moans of the wounded and dying trailed Shoju as he went. Their cries were drowned out by the song of Yashin, now safely sheathed at the daimyo's side.
The small band wound their way through the castle's twisting corridors. En route, they encountered Shoju's brother, Aramoro, along with Dairu and Tetsuo. All three sported small cuts and bruises, and their fine clothes had been stained with blood. None appeared to be seriously injured. Shoju nodded at them, and they fell into step with his company.
"The Hantei heir?" he asked.
Tetsuo shook his head. "No one has seen the boy since early in the evening."
"Our plan fails if he lives!" Shoju snarled. "Aramoro, see to it!"
The ninja master bowed. "Hai, great lord." He stepped into a side corridor and quickly vanished from sight.
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A short distance ahead, Seppun Daiori heard the host of the Scorpion coming. He pushed open the iron door to the throne room. His heart fell.
There was no one inside. No one else had made it this far. There was no one left to resist the coup.
He looked at Shizue's wet, fear-filled eyes.
If anything were to be done, Daiori would have to be the one to do it.
His stomach clenched tight. The wound in his side flared to life. He felt as if he were back on the battlefield where his brother had died.
Daiori never wanted the leadership of his clan, but it had been thrust upon him. Only later did he discover that a Lion partisan had planned his brother's death so that Daiori would become daimyo. Daiori had been in that man's grip ever since. Every day he lived in fear. Had it not been for his young son— whose mother was long dead—-he might have given it all up. There were days when life was just too much to bear. Even the opium didn't help.
He was an unworthy man.
Now the fate of the empire rested with him. If he could just keep the Scorpion from the throne, perhaps the day could still be won. He turned to Doji Shizue.
"Go," he said. "Hide yourself. Live. No matter what. Live to tell what transpired here."
She looked at him with tearful, questioning eyes. "But..."
"There is no time!" Daiori insisted. He thrust her back through the iron door into the throne room and closed it behind her. With luck she would be able to escape. Seppun Daiori braced himself, ready to meet his destiny.
Destiny arrived in the form of Bayushi Shoju. A small band of samurai, including Dairu and Tetsuo, strode up the corridor with him. All were armed to the teeth.
Daiori assumed a defensive stance. His old wound burned like fire. "You shall not pass," he said. "The throne will not be yours."
Shoju paced forward, his gait graceful and steeped in power, like that of a great cat. "Step aside," the Scorpion daimyo commanded.
Seppun Daiori shook his head. "Never. I challenge you, Bayushi Shoju."
Behind his mask, the Scorpion's eyes narrowed. "You have no weapon," he said coldly. "Step aside."
"Give me a sword to defend my
honor."
Shoju turned to one of his retainers and nodded. The man stepped forward and proffered his katana to the late emperor's military advisor. Daiori bowed and took it. He drew the weapon.
The air hummed as Shoju unsheathed Yashin. He looked into Daiori's eyes and said, "Surrender, and you will be spared."
Even the power of the Bayushi mask failed to sway his opponent.
Daiori's reply was but a whisper: "Never."
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Lightning flashed again. An explosion went off near the outer wall of the Forbidden City. Dark figures appeared atop the castle's bastions.
"It's started!" Kaede cried. "Merciful Shinsei! How could I not have seen!"
"What's started?" Ishikawa asked. "What's going on?" Bile rose in his gut. He fought to control his fear and confusion.
"Revolution!" she said, looking about in near panic. "The Scorpion is trying to seize the Emerald Throne!"
"We must stop him," Ishikawa said. His hand went to the hilt of his sword.
Kaede placed her dainty fingers on his wrist before he could draw. "No," she said, determination replacing the fear in her voice. "We must protect the heir."
"But where to find him?" Ishikawa cursed. "The young fool! He could be anywhere!"
"No," Kaede said calmly. "I saw him just moments ago in the garden. Come! We must act quickly."
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With wide, graceful strides, Shoju approached his opponent. His garments moved deceptively, making anticipation difficult for the Scorpion's enemy. The Master of Secrets held the bloodsword wide and low in his left hand. His right hand was held open before him, as if in a welcoming gesture.
Behind him, the Scorpion lord could hear the anxious breathing of his companions—Dairu and Tetsuo foremost among them. The song of the bloodsword grew louder.
Daiori shifted position, always careful to keep his back to the closed throne room door. He wanted to give Shizue as much time as possible to escape.
The Scorpion closed in, advancing in a deadly dance. He brought the sword up and held it in both hands, his arms cocked so that the blade ran parallel to his face. From behind the demon mask he said one word: "Come."
With a cry of defiance, Daiori charged forward. He aimed his blow at the Scorpion's breast. Shoju easily parried it. The Master of Secrets danced aside and sliced at his opponent's back. The blade of Yashin cut through Daiori's kimono and drew blood, but it did not strike home.
L5r - scroll 01 - The Scorpion Page 18
