Beginnings
“Death comes for us all. The best we
can do is laugh in its face.” – Kihei
Mirumoto Temoru stood in the center of the jagged mountain pass, holding his
katana low to one side. The Dragon samurai's face was twisted into a scowl. The
setting sun gleamed upon his once-golden armor, now smeared with blood and
gore. Three of the barbarians lay dead on the dusty earth around him, fools who
underestimated the power of the Mirumoto technique. Twelve more crowded in a
circle around Temoru. They wore rough armor, stinking leather carved from the
flesh of beasts. They wielded crude curved swords, pale imitations of the
samurai's katana.
“You think mere numbers can defeat a samurai?” Temoru said in a low voice. “We
shall see. Who will be first?” He turned in a wide circle, pointing his katana
to each of them in turn. The Yobanjin bandits looked at one another
uncertainly. A few of them took several steps back. Their wide faces were now
filled with fear.
“Deceivers!” Temoru snarled. “Your elder promised me the key to defeating Isawa's
Last Wish. Is this how Yobanjin keep their word?”
“No,” one of them said in harshly accented Rokugani. “This is how we survive.”
He was smaller than the others, but his face was more shrewd. Reaching into the
folds of his thick fur robes, he drew out a strange mechanical device and
pointed it at Temoru. A pointed arrow jutted from the tip. The man's finger
tightened around some sort of trigger.
“Have you ever seen a crossbow before, Dragon?” the man asked, taking aim at
the samurai.
Temoru widened his stance, shifting his weight from foot to foot like an
acrobat. “If you plan to shoot that at me,” he said in a low voice, “do not
miss.”
“You do not know the danger that you're bringing down upon our people, Dragon,”
the Yobanjin said. “You don't realize the sort of power you're up against.”
Temoru's face darkened, even more than before. “Shiba Aikune uses Isawa's Last
Wish against my people as a weapon of incredible power. The armies of the
Dragon Clan lie in ruins. Only the combined magic of our shugenja protects us
from Aikune's wrath, and our power is weakening. In the meantime, the Dragon
starve, hidden behind their walls. We are growing weaker, and the Phoenix grow
stronger as Aikune shares the power of the Wish with his followers. The Phoenix
were merciful once, but they have no mercy in their hearts any longer. The Wish
has changed them. When Aikune finally masters its power, my people will be no
more.”
“An impressive story,” the Yobanjin replied. “Why should we care? Why should we
invite Aikune's power to consume us as well?”
“You elder claimed that he knew something of the origins of the Wish,” Temoru
shot back, exhausted and irritated. “In knowing how it was created, perhaps our
shugenja could destroy it.”
'Destroy it?” the Yobanjin laughed. “More likely the Dragon would create a Last
Wish of their own. You Rokugani are short-sighted fools. You cannot be trusted
with such knowledge.”
“I cannot be trusted?” Temoru rose an eyebrow. “You tried to kill me.”
“Tried?” the Yobanjin shook his head slightly. “Succeeded.” He pulled the
trigger with a metallic twang. Temoru reflexively dodged, though he doubted he
could avoid the arrow at such close range.
A sudden wind surged around the crossbowman, its force so great that the
missile fired wildly to one side. It buried itself heavily in the chest of
another Yobanjin, who peered down at it in confusion before collapsing on the
ground.
Temoru peered up from his low crouch. He felt a tingle in the back of his
skull, a thickening in the elements that had not been there before. He had been
trained to recognize the sensation. . .
“Magic,” the Dragon whispered. He glanced around for the source of the spell.
In the thick mountainous terrain, a shugenja could be hidden anywhere. The
Yobanjin looked around as well, startled by the sudden attack.
Temoru did not know if the hidden spellcaster was friend or foe, but he was not
about to let this advantage slip away. The Dragon launched himself toward the
nearest Yobanjin, shouting a challenge and hefting his katana high above his
head. The Yobanjin roared in defiance, slicing at Temoru with his thick, curved
blade. Temoru turned his sword and cut horizontally. Sparks flew, and the
Dragon's katana sliced through the crude Yobanjin weapon an inch above the hilt.
The barbarian glanced at the useless steel, startled. Temoru turned his blade
and cut again, slicing the man from shoulder to hip.
Two more barbarians charged him, howling furiously in their strange language.
Temoru ducked beneath the first warrior's clumsy stroke and cut the legs from
beneath him. He readied his sword to attack the second a moment too late; the
barbarian caught Temoru across the jaw with an iron-bound club. The Dragon's
vision blurred, and he staggered backward. The katana fell from his hands.
Seeing their enemy disarmed, three more screaming barbarians charged Temoru.
Drawing the tanto from his belt, he hurled it desperately at the first,
catching him in the throat. The next was massive, the same one who struck him
with the club. This time Temoru darted to one side, avoiding the man's savage
blow. Seizing the Yobanjin by the arm, Temoru rolled backward and allowed his
attacker's weight and momentum to carry him through the air, crashing into his
ally. Temoru rolled to his feet, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
The Yobanjin stood in a ragged ring around Mirumoto Temoru, watching him with
fearful eyes. Twice now they had tried and failed to kill this samurai. Even
wounded, he was not about to surrender.
“Kill him!” the leader shouted, reloading his crossbow.
Temoru felt the familiar tingle of gathering magic at the base of his skull
again.
A sudden explosion resounded from the sky and a bolt of pure white fire
extended from the clouds, incinerating the Yobanjin leader. The smell of burnt
flesh and a cloud of ashes remained where the crossbowman had once stood.
The rest of the barbarians fled into the mountains, leaving the deadly samurai
and his invisible ally behind. Temoru maintained his stance until the last of
them were gone. Finally, he relaxed his shoulders and massaged his aching jaw.
Testing his teeth, he winced to find one loosened by the barbarian's attack.
Grimacing in pain, Temoru located his sword, wiped the blood from its length
with a scrap of rice paper, and returned it to its saya. With a deep, exhausted
sigh, he seated himself on a large stone, closed his eyes, and waited.
After several minutes, a voice finally interrupted him.
“What are you doing?”
Meditating, Temoru said, “Waiting for you to appear.”
The samurai opened his eyes. A small girl in dirty brown robes stood before
him, hair tied back into a rough topknot. Her face and hair were unwashed, but
the pouch of scrolls she carried at her hip were well-tended and immaculately
clean.
You are the shugenja,” Temoru said, rising and bowing to the girl. “I am
Mirumoto Temoru. If you are a friend, I thank you for coming to my aid. If you
are an enemy, I ask only that you make my death swift. It has been a difficult
day and I am very tired.”
She laughed out loud. “I suppose you can call me a friend, then,” she replied,
“for I have no desire to kill you, Dragon. I am called Zokusei.”
“Zokusei?” Temoru asked, eyes narrowing slightly. “Of what clan?”
“I serve no clan,” she replied. “I walk alone.”
“You are ronin,” Temoru said with a subtle nod.
Zokusei lowered her eyes. “I will not trouble you any longer, Mirumoto-sama.”
“Wait,” Temoru said, holding up one hand. “Your past is your own business.
Whatever path made you a lone wolf, it is no concern to me. I owe you my life,
Zokusei-chan.”
Zokusei paused, looking down at the blackened scorch mark that had once been
the crossbowman. “I had hoped not to take that man's life,” she said. “I had
hoped the gale would frighten them away. Satoshi will not be pleased.”
“Satoshi?” Temoru said. “Who is Satoshi?”
“He is my sensei,” she replied. “He sent me to help you.”
“Satoshi?” Temoru chuckled. “I have heard of him. A vagabond priest. A swindler
and thief. The Emerald Magistrates have been seeking him. Why would such a
criminal wish to help me?”
“Because you need help,” Zokusei said, her tone slightly irritated. She
gestured about the bloody battlefield. “Death and carnage follow you, Mirumoto
Temoru, and it will not end. You have set yourself against the power of Isawa's
Last Wish.”
“What do you know of the Wish?” Temoru asked, his friendly demeanor swiftly
evaporating, replaced with stern determination.
“I know only what we have seen,” Zokusei said, meeting the samurai's gaze
squarely. “Satoshi and I were there when Aikune first unleashed its power. We
tended the fields of the dead and dying after he moved on. We saw the Children
of the Last Wish, spirits of death and chaos, dancing across the sky at the
command of the Phoenix.”
“Shiba Aikune,” Temoru hissed. “His soul has been lost to evil.”
“No,” Zokusei replied. “The Last Wish is not evil, it is simply power. Aikune
and the Phoenix Clan are as much the victims here as your own clan. If a way to
control the power of the Wish cannot be found, the Phoenix will suffer even
more greatly than the Dragon.”
“I doubt that,” Temoru said.
“The spirits do not lie,” Zokusei answered. “They told us that the Last Wish
was left incomplete by its creator. Now it seeks to complete itself. It could
become a powerful force for good, or an even greater tool of evil. Even now
Satoshi is investigating the means by which the Wish was created, at great risk
to himself. We have found only a few clues thus far. This is why we sought you
out, Dragon. We know that you also seek to unravel the mystery of the Last
Wish. We wish to ally with you.”
“How did you hear of my mission?” Temoru asked, his tone sharp.
“Satoshi has friends among the Dragon,” she replied. “He aided Tamori Chieko in
treating an outbreak of the plague last year in the village of Nanashi Mura.”
“Chieko,” Temoru laughed. “Why am I not surprised? Yes, it is true. Lord
Mirumoto Uso has charged em to find a way to defeat the Last Wish before the
wall surrounding Ki-Rin's Shrine falls. To tell the truth, I would welcome the
aid.”
“Then answer this question,” Zokusei said. “What did you hope to find here?
What clue led you to the lands of the Yobanjin?”
Temoru reached for the inro that hung from his belt and drew out a small statue
carved of jade. “This,” he said, holding it up to the fading light, “and six
others just like it. The jade is of a special type that is found only in these
mountains.” HE handed the statue to Zokusei. “Look at the symbol beside the
date.”
Zokusei's eyes widened. “This was carved by Isawa himself.”
“At nearly the same time as the creation of the Last Wish,” Temoru replied. “I
think Isawa created the Last Wish somewhere in these mountains. If we are to
find a way to destroy it - or perhaps complete it as you said - then I think
that we will find it here.”
“And if we do not?” Zokusei replied.
“Then let us pray your friend Satoshi finds something more useful,” Temoru
replied.
To be continued. . .