L5r - scroll 07 - The Lion

by Stephen D. Sullivan

  Tsuko nodded grimly. While we have grown weaker, he has grown stronger, she thought, fighting down a feeling of anger mixed with grudging admiration.

  They soon reached a large, plain pavilion in the center of camp. No guards stood before the door flaps—a sign of Toturi's confidence. Tsuko glanced from the tent to Toku and then back again. We'll see, soon, if Toturi's confidence is well placed, she mused.

  "I'll announce you," Toku said. "Wait here, please." He bowed.

  As Toku went inside, Tsuko's eyes strayed around the camp. Admiration burned her gut. Yet for all he'd done, he was ronin— honorless. She had paid a terrible price, but her honor remained intact. In this, at least, she had the upper hand.

  Toku poked his head through the flaps. "Come on, please, Tsuko-sama. Toturi's waiting." He held aside the tent flap, and Tsuko entered.

  Toturi stood before her in a black sleeping kimono with golden trim. His dark hair hung above his broad shoulders; his scalp had been shaved clean, in the samurai tradition. The Black Lion looked alert, though clearly he'd just been woken up. His daisho swords were already tucked into his belt. He bowed, just slightly. "Tsuko," he said quietly. "To what do I owe this honor?"

  She said nothing, but glanced at the boy grinning in the doorway.

  Toturi turned to Toku and said, "Leave us."

  Toku frowned.

  "Don't worry," Toturi said, "everything will be fine."

  Toku bowed, first to Toturi and then to Tsuko before backing out of the tent.

  The Black Lion looked at the lady daimyo and smiled. "Make yourself comfortable," Toturi said, in a voice that reminded Tsuko very much of her dead fiance.

  "Do you want me to lay my swords aside, as if I were one of your followers?" Her brow furrowed angrily, and she began pacing.

  Toturi shook his head. "I'd never dream of asking. I was thinking perhaps you'd like a seat, or some sake."

  Tsuko waved him off. "They say you're a coward," she said, not looking at him. "They say you don't fight our army because you're scared."

  "Is that what you think, Tsuko?" Toturi asked.

  "I've hated you ever since Arasou died in your place."

  Toturi nodded, the shadows around his eyes growing dark in the light of the tent's sole lantern.

  The Lion daimyo continued to pace. "I've tried to be everything you're not. I've fought our enemies, giving no quarter and asking none. Our people have grown strong under my command."

  "You'll get no argument from me," Toturi said.

  "I've lived by the emperor's command and been proud to do so." Tsuko stopped her pacing and glared at him. "And I've allowed our people to die because of a boy—a sick boy who no longer knows right from wrong, good from evil, or honor from disgrace."

  "I wept when I heard of the battle at Otosan Uchi," Toturi said quietly.

  "So many samurai . . ." Tsuko lifted her face toward the tent roof. "Good men and women ... all dead." She blinked back the moisture welling on the corner of her eyes.

  She turned on him so suddenly that Toturi's hand flew to the hilt of his sword.

  "Why don't you fight us?" she screamed, shaking her fist at the ronin lord. "Why don't you crush my army honorably, and then march to the capital and slay the oni who drink the blood of Otosan Uchi?"

  "Sometimes, the measure of a samurai is knowing when not to fight," Toturi said. "I will not battle the Lion when the real enemy sits upon the Emerald Throne."

  Tsuko hung her head. Her pale golden hair fell over her cold, brown eyes. "The Lion are bound to me, and I am bound to the emperor. That the Hantei is possessed does not matter. The honor of our clan is at stake. I cannot break my vows."

  Toturi nodded. "I understand."

  "I'm trapped between my duty and what I know to be right," Tsuko said quietly. "Surely, you felt something similar when you overthrew the Scorpion and took the Emerald Throne."

  "Hai," Toturi said. "Sometimes, there are no good choices."

  Just then, Toku burst into the pavilion. He bowed hastily. "A thousand pardons, but we've been tricked! The camp is under attack."

  Toturi looked from the boy to Tsuko.

  "I know nothing of this," she said.

  In her guiltless, pleading eyes, the Black Lion must have seen the truth. "Come with me, then. We'll soon get to the bottom of this." He pushed past Toku and out of the tent flaps. Tsuko followed behind him, and Toku trailed them both.

  On the far side of camp, a great fire burned. Samurai ran here and there, shouting and waving their swords. Toturi stopped one of the men and asked, "What's going on?"

  "One of the supply tents has caught fire, and two of the guards were found unconscious."

  Toturi looked from the man to Tsuko, but she merely shook her head. He turned to Toku. "Find Bentai and have him double the watch. Then get every available samurai to join the bucket brigade. I want that fire extinguished quickly. This may just be sabotage, or it may be a distraction from the true attack."

  Toku glanced suspiciously at Tsuko. Then he bowed and turned to go, but before he could leave, a sound from the tents behind them froze him in his tracks.

  A Lion samurai burst from between the tents and into the small clearing before Toturi's pavilion. His armor was muddy and covered in pine needles. His face had been deliberately blackened with mud, but his eyes shone brightly in the firelight. He brandished a yari. Its point shone in the light of the setting moon. Seeing Tsuko, he charged.

  Toku and three of Toturi's samurai leapt forward to meet the man, cutting the invader off from the Black Lion and his guest. Weapons clashed. One of Toturi's defenders fell—stabbed by the Lion's spear.

  "Stop!" Matsu Tsuko's voice bellowed.

  "I followed you, Tsuko-sama," the yari wielder said. "From afar, I saw your battle at the edge of camp," the yari-wielder said. "I've come to free you!"

  Toku slashed at him, but he fended off the blow easily.

  "Gohei—I'm here of my own free will," Tsuko said sternly. She held him with her dark eyes. "Put up your weapon."

  The Lion general looked as though he might obey, but Toturi's samurai pressed in around him. More ronin troops rushed out of the night to their master's defense. The Black Lion's guardsman soon had the invader thoroughly surrounded.

  "Enough!" Toturi barked. "We will talk now, not fight. Toku, carry out my commands. You three, tend to our wounded comrade. The rest, move back, out of earshot. I want to talk to these two."

  Toku said, "But, Master—"

  "Now!" Toturi commanded. His samurai bowed and carried their fallen friend away to a healer. Toku left on his errand. Toturi looked from Tsuko to her general.

  "His bravery outweighs his good sense, I think," he said.

  Tsuko scowled. "Gohei, why are you here?"

  "As I said, my lady, I saw you enter the ronin camp," Gohei replied.

  "But you followed me." Anger flared in Tsuko's dark eyes.

  "I saw you cross the river and became worried," Gohei explained. "I decided to follow, at a discreet distance, in case you needed help. When I saw his samurai surround you, I feared for your life. A quick rescue seemed to be in order. Our army was too far away to fetch them in time."

  A sly smile parted Matsu Tsuko's lips. "My brave fool," she said. "Such an attack was suicide. Would you go so willingly to your death?"

  Gohei bowed low. "For you, Lady, anything."

  Toturi chuckled. "His devotion is admirable. I could use him in my army."

  Gohei's grip tightened on the shaft of his yari, but a glance from Tsuko stopped him. "Toturi and I are in parley," she said calmly but firmly. "You will withdraw until I have need of you."

  Gohei looked around suspiciously. Toturi's troops had stepped back a respectable distance, but he was still very much surrounded.

  Toturi motioned one of his samurai forward. "Misae, see that General Gohei is made comfortable. Fetch him sake, and anything he requires."

  The former Crab samurai-ko bowed. "As you will." She rose and motioned f
or Gohei to follow. He did, but not without a final glance back at his mistress.

  Toturi and Tsuko walked back into the Black Lion's tent.

  "You should be proud of him," Toturi said.

  "I am," Tsuko replied. "Even if he is a headstrong fool." She smiled.

  "Headstrong is a trait that runs deep in Lions," Toturi said.

  "You should know."

  He nodded. "Hai. I know it too well."

  Tsuko took a deep breath and sighed. "In another lifetime, you and I could have been friends."

  Toturi nodded. "Perhaps. We are much alike."

  "Not so much as you think," she replied, a spark of anger flickering in her eyes. "Though you are more like your brother Arasou than I realized."

  "I've grown up since you last knew me," Toturi replied. "All of us have."

  She paused, not looking at him, and held her breath. "You should lead our clan once more."

  "I cannot," Toturi replied. "I am no longer daimyo. I am both less and more. My responsibilities are greater than they were, though my honor is less. I sometimes long for the days when I led our clan; those times seem so much simpler. I wish, though, that I had not made so many mistakes."

  "I wish that as well," Tsuko said, still looking away. "For myself as well as you. Rectify some of those mistakes now. Take my sword and return to your rightful place."

  "The Lion will not follow me now. They may never follow me again. I'm not refusing out of politeness, but out of practical consideration. You are the Lion now."

  Tsuko spun suddenly and glared into his deep brown eyes. "The emperor is evil," she said. "I cannot serve him any longer. Fu Leng sits upon the Emerald Throne."

  Toturi held her with his gaze. "Then join me."

  Tsuko spoke through gritted teeth. "My oath to the emperor cannot be broken. I am not you; I cannot choose to do what you have done. To do so, I would have to destroy both my honor and that of our clan." She paused as the anger seeped out of her, and then added, "I will not destroy my soul. So long as I live, my word is my bond."

  Toturi nodded his understanding. "Are you saying there is only one course of action open to you?"

  She nodded back. "Hai. Only one course."

  "You would force my hand in this? You would compel me to take up the gauntlet, though it might mean still more useless deaths?"

  "I would," Tsuko said. "Someone must. You've waited too long, as have our people. Soon, nothing will remain of our clan or the empire."

  "Surely there is another way," he said.

  The Lion daimyo shook her head, and her golden hair shimmered in the light of the tent's sole lantern. "There is no other way."

  Toturi sighed. "Then tell me how I can help."

  "You cannot help," she replied. "I know what I must do, and it is my honor and duty as a Lion to do it."

  THE PHOENIX

  Fire surrounded Isawa Tadaka. He wiped the sweat from his brow and pulled his black hood up tight over his nose. The smoke stung his eyes, despite the power of the enchantment surrounding him. Kyuden Isawa, the great castle of the Phoenix, was burning—and the Master of Earth could do nothing about it.

  He forged ahead through the inferno, into the blazing hulk of the castle, wondering if anything could be salvaged and hoping beyond hope that some of the Phoenix's age-old wisdom might yet be saved. He knew in his heart that his quest was futile.

  He and the other Elemental Masters had all been willing to give their lives, to make any sacrifice to prevent Fu Leng's return to Rokugan. Only his sister, Isawa Kaede, had fled rather than participate in their mad scheme. And mad it had been.

  In the flaming ruins of the Isawa Palace, Tadaka saw that he and the other Elemental

  Masters hadn't stopped the return of Fu Leng; they had hastened it. The moment they opened the Black Scrolls, they had assured their own doom, and that of their people.

  Tadaka dodged a fiery timber that fell in his path and continued toward the heart of the citadel.

  How long can the castle burn, he wondered, before it consumes itself utterly? He wondered similarly about himself. How long could he withstand the inferno of his taint before he became utterly corrupt? He said a prayer to Amaterasu, the sun goddess, for strength.

  As he gazed at the glowing embers of a thousand years of Isawa history, he realized that he was deceiving himself even now. It was not knowledge he sought to save; his motives were not so high-minded. Revenge drove him through the castle's blazing skeleton.

  Somewhere within the ruin lurked the Oni no Tadaka—the demon with his name. The creature had tricked Tadaka and the others, fed them Fu Leng's lies when they'd sought the truth. The results burned all around him. Now, the oni would pay.

  The Elemental Masters had been away when Yogo Junzo set the Phoenix capital ablaze. They had been seeking knowledge, ever more knowledge—but that had been just another part of Fu Leng's plan. Now Tadaka had returned, too late to save the castle, too late to save the precious library, too late to save his own soul.

  Too late, even, to destroy Junzo, who had moved on to burn other cities. The oni, though, remained. Tadaka felt it in his bones, in the green veins of Shadowlands taint that ran like a road map across his skin. He would have his revenge.

  A fallen wall barred his way, the massive stone blocks towering like broken ribs out of the palace's corpse. Tadaka concentrated and drew on the power of the earth. The stones shuddered and moved aside, vassals making way for their master.

  He found the steps leading underground, down into the great Isawa library. Oily, ash-laden smoke belched from the blackened hole, confirming what Tadaka already knew. Nothing remained.

  Realization of the loss overcame Tadaka. He leaned against a red-hot stone and wept, the tears drying on his face almost before they left his eyes. Tsuke, the Master of Fire, Tomo—his brother— the Master of Water, Uona, the Mistress of Air . . . how had they all been so blind?

  He wondered about Kaede, his sister. Where was she? Gone into the Void, some said. Had she foreseen this terrible conflagration when she fled? Did she know this would happen when he and the others summoned the oni? Tadaka thought that, perhaps, she had. Someday, he hoped to ask her about it.

  If he survived. If she did. If the world did.

  Taking a deep breath of the scorching air, Tadaka moved on.

  Around him, the palace continued to burn, as if both the walls and the magic that sustained them for a thousand years fed the fire. Jagged pieces of the castle still thrust themselves into the afternoon sky, bony fingers reaching for a heaven forever denied them.

  Tadaka gazed up at the storied pillars, memories filling in the ruins: bedrooms, council chambers, great dining halls, and atop them all, the great garden of the Elemental Masters—a space both within the palace and separate from all of Rokugan. They'd birthed the monster in that sacred place.

  The Master of Earth's mind filled with visions of the hideous creature: slavering jaws, poisonous spines, writhing tentacles. It shared his name and corrupted his soul.

  Tadaka felt tendrils of darkness creep into his mind once more. Join us! We will give you power such as you have never dreamed of. The Master of Earth banished the voices with a warding spell; the price of what they offered lay all around him.

  A shadow moved to his left; it darted quickly through the burning ruins. Tadaka turned and recognized a ghostly, green-white form flitting through the embers.

  The Kuni witch hunter was tall and rail thin. She wore a demonic jade mask—cracked across the forehead—and a long white robe. In her bony hands she carried a long, double-forked spear.

  Tadaka's heart swirled with emotions at the sight of her. He had befriended her on his last trip into the Shadowlands; later, after he became tainted, they had fought. He had spared her life that day.

  "You lied!" the Kuni cried as she leapt at him. A shimmering jade-green aura surrounded her, protecting her slim body from the heat. The glow emanated from a small bronze mirror on a cord at her throat. Next to the mirror h
ung an arrowhead talisman. Tadaka had given the arrow to her when they parted; it allowed her to find him even here, deep in his own personal Jigoku. The witch hunter thrust her forked spear at Tadaka's chest; he stepped aside only just in time.

  "Stop!" he said. He reached out with his mind to the stones under her feet, and they tripped her. "There's no reason we should fight."

  The Kuni pitched forward, rolled, and sprang to her feet once more. "You said we would settle our differences when the time came. That time is now!'

  "No!" Tadaka said, drawing his katana and parrying as she jabbed at him once more. "My work is not yet finished."

  She laughed a sepulchral laugh. "What work? Summoning more demons? Causing more ruin? Haven't you learned your lesson yet, Master of Earth?" She swung at his belly, hoping to spill his guts.

  He drew his sword and barely turned the blow aside. "I've come here to destroy a demon, not to raise one." Despite the wards protecting him from the heat, sweat beaded on his forehead.

  "So you say! But I can feel the evil here. It tears like talons at my soul, and you're part of it. I'll not let you bring more destruction to the world, Isawa Tadaka. I'll kill you, as I should have when we first fought." She jabbed at him again.

  He leapt over the thrust, landed behind her and kicked her in the back. The Kuni fell, but rose again before Tadaka could command the charred flagstones to seize her. The green taint lacing his body tugged at his muscles, trying to make him kill her. His sword swung for her neck of its own accord. Summoning all his will, he turned it aside and brought the blade down on the haft of her forked spear instead.

  Her jab sneaked under his guard and traced a long cut across his ribs. He gasped in pain.

  Beneath her expressionless jade mask, she said, "Ha!"

  The room around them shuddered, and several flaming timbers fell from the ceiling. The Kuni stepped out of the way as one crashed at her feet. The distraction gave Tadaka time to recover his breath.

  As he did, the burning pile before him bulged, as though giving birth. Suddenly, the Oni no Tadaka loomed up out of the wreckage before him. It shook hot coals from its immense back the way a dog sheds water. Black blood oozed from wounds the Elemental Masters had inflicted upon it while questing for their dark knowledge. The sharp spines along its back dripped poison. Its huge tentacles lashed out, striking the burning walls and raining timbers down on the Elemental Master and the witch hunter.