L5r - scroll 07 - The Lion

by Stephen D. Sullivan

  Only this small ribbon of water and a few miles separated her from the man who had dishonored her clan, the man who had cost her fiance and all the Akodo people their name. In the dark, swirling waters of the river, Tsuko saw Toturi's proud face. He stared at her, steely-eyed, looking right through her.

  Toturi gave up everything, she thought, yet he still fights for the empire. He still fights. Can I do less?

  Looking around, she saw no one watching. Carefully, the Lion daimyo darted across the boulders toward the opposite bank. She almost fell in but quickly regained her footing. She bit back a curse and continued on. Soon, the moist earth of the far shore greeted her feet.

  Toturi's samurai made no attempt to conceal their camp; the army was far too large for that. Tsuko had little trouble picking out the distant smoke of their fires in the dim moonlight. She dashed through the pines, quickly and quietly.

  Her mind whirled with thoughts and possibilities; the miles flew past as she ran. Anger welled in her, then sadness, and then resignation. She nervously fingered the hilt of her lion-headed katana. Her eyes darted through the forest, watching for any sign of sentries.

  Well before dawn, she stood at the edge of the woods, only a few paces away from the camp's perimeter. Her own people lay far behind her, sleeping—too far away to help if anything went wrong. She needed to do this one thing right.

  The moon edged behind the mountains as Tsuko watched, waiting for her chance.

  It never came.

  Underbrush rustled nearby. The Lion daimyo whirled, but strong hands seized her from behind.

  "Got one!" a gruff voice said. Tsuko cursed herself for being caught unaware.

  Someone hit her in the back of the head. Stars burst before her eyes and, for an instant, Tsuko regretted leaving her helmet in her tent. Then the world spun around her, and she fell.

  THE CRAB

  The granite walls of Kyuden Hida pressed in on Hida Yakamo. The air was dank and warm. The Crab Champion's lungs ached from drawing it. Even in the highest tower of the castle, even with the windows open, Yakamo felt smothered.

  Outside, the sky hung dark with storm clouds. A wind from the south brought no respite. Rather it filled the air with the stench of the Shadowlands. Neither the proud Twilight Mountains nor the great Kaiu Kabe wall could protect the Crab lands from that vile odor.

  This year, there would be no true spring; this year, the turning of the seasons heralded the rebirth of the Evil One, Fu Leng.

  Yakamo rose and walked to the window. The steel shutters protecting the room had been thrust wide, but still the atmosphere inside the room oppressed him. The son of the Great Bear looked out, away from the castle and toward the sea.

  The Last Stand River flowed through the town outside the castle walls, meandering sluggishly to the Bay of the Earthquake Fish. The bay's green waters shimmered in the red light of the setting sun. The waters looked like a thousand campfires on a verdant plane.

  The young Crab samurai sighed deeply. He tried to lean against the windowsill and nearly lost his balance. He had no hand to support him against the rail. Yakamo cursed himself for forgetting. With his father dying, he must be stronger than ever; he must not make such mistakes.

  He looked down at the ragged stump of his arm. What he saw there made him shudder. Once, that arm had been joined to the Crab Hand, a powerful artifact. With it, Yakamo had conquered many enemies and become one of the most feared men in the empire. The Crab Hand had also made him a pawn of evil. It had poisoned him with the ambition of Fu Leng, undead master of the Shadowlands. For a time, both Yakamo and his father had thought the darkness to be light.

  The Crab had sought the throne. They'd sailed to Otosan Uchi and destroyed the Lion forces protecting the capital. Then they'd faced the corrupt Hantei emperor—and they'd lost. Kisada, the Great Bear, fell to the boy emperor's sword. In that blow, Yakamo saw the hand of Fu Leng himself. No wonder their demon allies hadn't saved them!

  Yakamo had cast off the accursed Crab Hand and led the Crab armies back to their own lands. Now the Great Bear lay in his chambers at Kyuden Hida, barely clinging to life. Yakamo cursed them all for being weak fools.

  The Crab Champion looked at the festering stump of his arm. Though he had rid himself of the Crab Hand, the battle for his soul was not finished. Oozing disease ran up his arm toward the elbow. It was not the taint of the Shadowlands, but gangrene would kill him nonetheless.

  In his mind, the accursed hand still called to him: I will save you! Reclaim me!

  Storm clouds blotted out the setting sun, and black rain fell. Yakamo shuttered the windows and retreated into the palace.

  He wrapped his stump in white silk and left the room. He walked deep into the castle, trying to escape the evil that hung over him.

  Without thinking, he made his way to his father's chambers.

  The shugenja attending Hida Kisada rose when Yakamo pushed back the fusuma screen and entered the room. They bowed low as the Crab Champion walked to his father's side. Yakamo paid the women no attention.

  The room was dark, lit only by a few lanterns and a great brazier, smoldering near the slumbering daimyo. Sweet, incense-laden smoke filled the air. Gray stone walls swallowed the lanterns' light.

  The Great Bear lay insensate on his futon, sweat pouring from his brow, his limbs twitching with dark fever. The wound in Kisada's side still bled; it would not heal. The imperial sword had inflicted a fatal wound to one who sought the throne.

  Fatal. Hai. That's what it was. Though Kisada might linger for days or even months, in the end, Fu Leng had killed the Great Bear.

  Yakamo's heart grew cold. He could hardly imagine life without the stern daimyo.

  Am I worthy to lead the clan? I will have to be.

  Father, I will avenge you, Yakamo thought. The disease in his stump burned in reply. Kisada's son gritted his teeth against the pain.

  He turned to the women, still kneeling on the floor at the daimyo's bedside. "Leave us."

  The women rose, bowed again, and quickly exited the chamber, pulling the screen shut behind them.

  Yakamo unwrapped the silk from his arm and looked at the stump. The wound festered, oozing yellow pus. The skin flaked off in long, gray-back strips.

  The champion looked at his father, back at the stump, and then at the brazier by Kisada's feet. The coals in the iron cauldron burned red; the air above them shimmered with oppressive heat.

  "I will burn the disease from my body and my soul," Yakamo said, addressing the Great Bear. Though his father did not reply,

  Yakamo thought a grim smile pulled at the daimyo's lips.

  Turning to the cauldron, Yakamo thrust his arm into the fire. Pain such as he had never known tore through the champion's body. This was worse than when he'd acquired the Crab Hand, worse than when he'd torn it from his arm. Worse, even, than when he saw Fu Leng's pawn destroy his father.

  Flames roared up the champion's arm and into his soul. Agony racked him, and he screamed. Yakamo's cries filled the dark chamber, echoing off the stone walls. His world filled with deafening sound. Still, he kept his arm in the coals.

  The Crab Hand howled in his head. Its call was louder than his own screams. He ignored it and pressed the stump farther into the blaze. He held the arm there until the roar of the fire drowned out the wails of the evil hand. Even then, he did not pull his arm out.

  Finally, when it felt as though his entire body would be consumed, Yakamo removed the stump from the brazier. He fell onto his backside, sweat pouring from his brow, pain drawing a curtain of red haze over his eyes. He gazed at the charred and blackened stump.

  Most of the diseased flesh had been burned away. There, though, near the wrists, small pustules lingered, throbbing red like evil fireflies against the darkness of his arm.

  It had not been enough. All the fire in Rokugan would not be enough.

  Yakamo's head swam. He blundered to his feet without knowing where he was going. His ears roared with a sound like crashing
surf. In the distance, he heard something else: music—the wandering melody of a Shintao flute.

  Blindly, he stumbled out the doorway and into the darkened corridors beyond. He didn't bother to open the fusuma screen, but rather crashed through it, leaving an outline of his massive form in the door's painted paper and wood.

  The castle walls closed in around him once more. Yakamo wandered, delirious, within the stone hallways. His mind reeled with images of his dying father, the battle before Otosan Uchi, the evil smile on the young Hantei emperor's face, the tainted Crab

  Hand, and the leering visage of Yakamo no Oni—the demon to whom he'd given his name.

  What a fool he had been! He had even given it mastery in the naming. Had it been Oni no Yakamo, he would have controlled it, but as Yakamo no Oni, it had controlled him.

  Yakamo could almost hear the monster laughing at him now. Its image danced before him, leading him ever deeper within the bowels of the castle. The demon faded, and a figure appeared in the corridor ahead of him, a man in a hood, playing a long flute. The figure turned, fading away into the darkness.

  "Stop!" Yakamo cried. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

  The champion shambled forward, barely aware as his powerful legs propelled him onward.

  The figure stayed in front of him, always just at the edge of his sight. Eerie music drifted back to Yakamo, enticing him. Rage built within the Crab's massive chest.

  Who was this invader who walked the hidden corridors of the Crab fortress as if he had been born there?

  "I command you to stop," Yakamo said, his voice rasping and weak.

  The figure merely kept walking, playing his long flute.

  With an incoherent scream, Yakamo rushed forward, lunging at the specter, trying to grasp it. He missed and fell forward. Hard stone rushed up to meet his face.

  Darkness swirled around Yakamo in nauseating waves. His lungs ached from pain and exertion. As the blackness clouding his vision faded, he saw a great chamber piled high with treasures beyond imagining. Dim light suffused the room, glinting off the golden surfaces and making them sparkle.

  The Hooded Ronin stood on the far side of the chamber, leaning against his flute-staff. Beyond him, half-buried in the hoard, Yakamo glimpsed something green: jade.

  "How did we come here?" the Crab Champion gasped. Fighting hard to stay conscious, he struggled to his knees. His head throbbed, and every muscle in his body burned with dark fire.

  "I am given to understand the secret ways of the clans," the hooded man said.

  "Why?"

  "Because you are needed," the ronin replied.

  Yakamo held up his stump. "I am ... diseased." The sickly infection glowed in the dim light. Yakamo's vision swam, and darkness closed around him once more.

  The Hooded Ronin reached into the pile of treasure and withdrew the jade object. He walked to where Yakamo knelt.

  "Look," the Hooded Ronin said. "This is your destiny, Hida Yakamo. You must come when called." The stranger held an articulated hand made entirely of fine jade.

  Half-conscious, the Crab extended his mangled arm.

  The ronin placed the hand on the stump and bound the wrist with a silk cord inscribed with wards and protections against evil.

  Again, Yakamo screamed; again his body burned with fire. This time, though, it was a cleansing flame. The inferno spread up his arm and through his spine. It coursed to every part of his body, driving out the corruption of the Crab Hand.

  The image of a starry dragon danced before his eyes—bright, fiery, but somehow comforting. For a moment, Yakamo felt as though his entire being were made of pure, white light.

  xxxxxxxx

  He awoke in his own chamber, with no memory of how he'd gotten there. The first rays of sunlight peeked over the sea and through Yakamo's window. For the first time in many months, the sunlight warmed the paper-walled chamber.

  Yakamo sat up and looked around. Nothing seemed amiss; he saw no trace of the Hooded Ronin. He rose and flexed his mighty muscles. At the end of his arm, his new hand flexed as well.

  The Crab Champion gazed down at the wonderful artifact. It shone green, reflecting the early morning light in a thousand emerald sparks. Yakamo lifted the Jade Hand up to the level of his eyes.

  His arm looked healed; no trace of the diseased Crab Claw remained. With the Jade Hand, Yakamo was whole once more. He was restored, body and soul. He clenched the green fingers into a fist.

  The voice of the hooded stranger echoed in the Crab's mind. You must come when called.

  Hida Yakamo nodded. He knew that he was ready.

  MEETING OF LIONS

  For a few moments, Matsu Tsuko didn't know where she was. Then her years of battle training cleared the clouds from her mind. She stood suddenly and thrust aside the samurai trying to capture her.

  A young man in ragtag armor grabbed for her arm. Tsuko punched him squarely in the nose, and he sprawled over backward, landing in a pile of damp leaves.

  The Lion daimyo drew her ivory-handled katana and flourished it in a wide circle. The four samurai surrounding her backed out of range and quickly drew their own swords. They formed a wide circle and pointed their blades at her. Tsuko stood in their center, her cold eyes staring at each of them in turn, daring them to attack.

  "The next one to lay a hand on me dies," she snarled. "I am Matsu Tsuko of the Lion. I demand the respect my station deserves."

  The four samurai looked nervously at each

  other. The fifth rose from his bed of leaves, clutching his nose. Blood leaked out between his fingers. "That's a ridiculous story," he said. "Why would the Lion daimyo be sneaking into our camp in the middle of the night?"

  "Look at my sword if you don't believe me," Tsuko said.

  The young samurai gazed carefully at the carved ivory handle of the katana in her hand. His brown eyes roamed over the snarling lion's head that topped the pommel. He studied Tsuko's stern, battle-worn face and iron-muscled form. He nodded at her and pulled a silk handkerchief out of his kimono.

  "Back away," he said, wiping his nose. "Give her some room to breathe." When the guards looked at him questioningly, the youth said, "What are you waiting for? Can't you see she's telling the truth?"

  The samurai circling the Lion daimyo nodded to the youth and cautiously edged farther from Tsuko.

  "Sheath your weapons," Tsuko said. "If I'd come to kill you, you'd already be dead."

  The young leader put his handkerchief away and waved his hand at his comrades. "What are you trying to do, insult her? Put your swords away!"

  The four other samurai reluctantly did as the young man bid. The young samurai bowed to Tsuko. "I'm Toku," he said, smiling. "I'm very honored to meet you, Tsuko-sama."

  Tsuko's eyes narrowed as she appraised the boy. Neither his armor nor his demeanor was impressive. He seemed more like a farmer than a samurai. His face was unshaven and retained some baby fat. Yet, his muscles looked firm, and his body in good fighting condition. Perhaps ... yes. She hadn't noticed it before in the dim light, but he wore the emblem of the Emerald Champion upon his shoulder. This child was an Emerald Magistrate, as well as being one of Toturi's soldiers. Clearly, in the Black Lion's camp it was a mistake to judge by first impressions.

  "I've come to see Toturi," Tsuko said.

  The four other samurai hemmed and hawed, pawing the fresh earth nervously with their straw sandals, but Toku merely bowed and said, "Of course. I'll take you right to him."

  Tsuko nodded.

  "What are you waiting for?" Toku asked his men. "Form up! give the lady the escort she deserves."

  "No, no," Tsuko said. "I don't want a lot of clamor. This is to lie a secret meeting."

  Toku's young face scrunched up in thought for a moment. Then he smiled again. "All right," he said. "I'll escort the lady myself. The rest of you, go back to what you were doing. And don't whisper a word of this, or I'll have your heads on pikes before morning."

  The other samurai bowed and scurrie
d off into the night, , clearly relieved to be free of this tricky, politically charged burden.

  "Toturi will be surprised to see you," Toku said as he led the Lion daimyo toward his commander's tent.

  "Yes. I'm sure he will."

  "Next time you decide to drop by, you really should send an envoy first. We've been having a lot of trouble with your people lately, and you could easily have been killed."

  The boy clearly had no idea of the gravity of the situation. Already, his prattle was beginning to tell on Tsuko's frayed nerves. "I think I can find my way on my own."

  "Oh, no, I wouldn't hear of it," Toku replied. "Toturi would never forgive me if I allowed you to wander in without an escort."

  Tsuko frowned but said nothing more. As they meandered through the vast camp, she found herself impressed. The setup was magnificent, not the makeshift tent city that Tsuko had envisioned. The pavilions were well ordered and clean, arranged in defensive positions in case of sudden attack. Banners festooned the encampment, blowing gently in the night wind, their colorful designs dancing in the firelight.

  Confident voices drifted up from between the tents—samurai chatting with their fellows and enjoying the evening air. Several guards stepped from the shadows to challenge them as they walked, but when they saw Toku, they vanished back into the night.

  "I really must apologize for the condition of our camp," Toku said buoyantly. "If we had known you were coming, we would have done the place up proud."

  "It's fine, really," Tsuko said, trying to keep the admiration out of her voice. Looking around, she could see that what Matsue Gohei had told her was true: Toturi could have easily crushed the small force she had opposing him. Why doesn't he do it? Tsuko wondered. What is he waiting for?

  For a moment, fear sprang up within her heart, and she doubted she could go through with her plan. Then she steeled herself. "I'm surprised you could feed yourselves over the winter," she said, taking in the camp with her eyes.

  "Oh, the people feed us," Toku said. "They're glad to have Toturi around. Besides, our army wasn't so big during the winter. The spring thaws have brought samurai out of the woodwork like beetles. More join us every day. People are eager to fight for what's right." He smiled, and the firelight gleamed off his bright eyes.