Divine Guidance
by Shawn Carman
Akodo
Tadenori shook his head in disgust. He had traveled much during his lifetime,
but he had not enjoyed it a single time. Now, traveling south through some of
the Empire’s most rugged terrain alongside a Crane, he had to wonder why Ijiasu
had asked him to undertake this mission.
“He hates
you, of course.”
Tadenori’s
head snapped around to glare at Doji Midoru. “What did you say, Crane?”
“The
expression on your face. It’s obvious what you were thinking. And the answer is
equally obvious. Akodo Ijiasu despises you.”
“Outlandish,”
Tadenori retorted. “What would you know of such things?”
Midoru
turned away to take in the landscape around them. “What is there to know?” he
replied. “He is younger than you. He is higher ranking than you. Yet other Lion
look to you for leadership because of your experience. Your many victories over
the Dragon eclipse his massacre at Kyuden Tonbo.” He turned back to Tadenori.
“How could he help but hate you?”
Tadenori
scoffed. “You obviously know nothing. We Akodo are above hate.”
The Crane
shrugged. “It matters little to me if you believe it or not. For what it’s
worth, I am certain he does not realize it he hates you. You Akodo place so
much emphasis on honor that you forget emotion, even when it drives you to
act.”
“And you
know so much about emotion, I’m certain,” Tadenori retorted. “I refuse to
accept philosophy from a man such as you. I hear that the Shogun’s soldiers
refer to as ‘the Corpse.’“
A slight
smile tugged at Midoru’s lips. “How appropriate.”
The old
Lion shook his head again. Midoru was maddeningly unflappable. Perhaps it would
be best to restrict conversation to the matter at hand, however distasteful
that might be. “Ijiasu-sama’s description of our mission was… brief. Would you
care to enlighten me as to the details?”
Midoru
nodded. “Your lord Ijiasu offered aid to his ally Hida Hitoshi. It seems that
Hitoshi-san’s home province has been besieged of late, constantly under assault
from large waves of the Lost. The Crab are holding their own at this time, but
they are requesting additional troops to help crush the incursion.”
“Hmph,”
Tadenori grunted, looking back at the small unit of men that followed them. “We
seem fairly ill suited to crush the Shadowlands Horde…”
“Perhaps,”
Midoru agreed. “But then, you and I are not exactly your average infantrymen,
are we?” He peered at his Lion comrade. “You are the veteran of a hundred
battles, if your reputation is to be believed. A leader of men, and a peerless
tactician. And I am… what I am. Unless, of course, your reputation is merely
hearsay.”
“No,” said
Tadenori gruffly. “I am not stranger to battle, nor victory.”
“Excellent,”
Midoru said. “Then we shall get along famously.”
•
Hida
Kuroda snarled in fury and tightened his grip. There was a sharp cracking sound
as the man’s skull shattered; the body that dangled from Kuroda’s fist went
limp. The samurai’s corpse fell at Kuroda’s feet, its black blood staining the
Crab’s hands and legs. He turned and regarded the other Lost about him with a
fury that made many fall back a step. “I am not Hida Kuroda! I am Kyofu! Any
fool who calls me that hated name will suffer this one’s fate or worse!” He
lashed out irritably and caught one of the closest men across the side of the
face, sending him sprawling to the ground where he lay twisted and unmoving.
“Destroy this village! I want nothing left but blood and ash!”
The Lost
scattered at Kyofu’s words, eager to be free of his tyrannical outbursts. Since
the undead Crab Champion had been combined with the Onisu of Fear, it was the
Onisu who held dominion over their shared corporeal form. Where Kyofu’s menace
was once methodical and brooding, now he frequently succumbed to rage and
violence. As the Onisu of Fear, it was constantly driven to inspire fear in others,
even if those were the troops under its command.
Kyofu
stormed across the blazing rice field that marked the outer edge of a small
village in the southern Crab lands. Screams and the crack of burning timbers
filled the air, but Kyofu barely noticed. He drew his obsidian blade and cut
down the doors to the nearest building. Inside, horses were screaming in panic
at the flames that had begun to engulf the building. A lone peasant was there,
trying desperately to calm the animals. Upon seeing the creature advancing
toward him, the man began to scramble away, but stumbled over a gardening tool
and fell sprawling to the ground.
The Onisu
was on him in an instant. Kyofu grabbed the man’s throat with a single hand and
slammed him repeatedly into the ground. The peasant’s eyes glazed over with
pain, then oblivion. Kyofu lifted his blade to end the man’s life, a cruel
laughter bubbling forth from somewhere deep within him. Suddenly, the peasant’s
eyes cleared for a moment, and he saw that his life could be measured in
seconds. His face contorted into a mask of hate in that moment, and he spat in
Kyofu’s face. “My lords, the Hida, will make you suffer, Shadowlands filth!”
There was
no fear in this man. Roaring in outrage, Kyofu brought his blade down with
inhuman force. The first strike cleft the man’s head into two pieces, but the
Onisu did not halt his onslaught. Again and again he struck until he was
covered in the blood of his enemy. His rage passed, and Kyofu suddenly realized
that his rage had consumed him for several minutes.
A dark,
booming laughter suddenly filled the stable. Kyofu instantly dropped into a
fighting stance, looking all about for its source. The Shadowlands were full of
strange, maniacal beings that thought themselves the equal of any opponent they
faced. Kyofu had personally dispatched no less than a dozen self-styled
warlords, fools who believed they were above Daigotsu’s laws. Each had laughed
at Kyofu before he killed them, certain they would best him. This laughter,
however, was something altogether different. “Who dares mock Kyofu?” he
snarled. “Who longs for a painful, tortured death?”
“A most
ironic question, Hida Kuroda,” came the response. The voice was everywhere at
once. Unbelievably, Kyofu felt his demonic heart flutter with an almost alien
feeling: fear. Fear was something he brought to others, not experienced
himself. “Truly,” the voice continued, “death is not for beings such as you and
I, is it?”
The room
darkened suddenly. The shadows grew longer, and the light shed by the flickering
flames seemed to wane and dwindle away to nothing. A dull roaring sound like
the distant ocean filled the room, and Kyofu had the sensation of standing at
the end of a long corridor. A great, powerful presence swelled as if
approaching, filling the chamber with its enormity. Then, without preamble,
there was another being within the chamber. In one instant, Kyofu was alone.
The next, there was… something else.
A great
suit of slate-gray armor, taller than even the largest Onisu, stood in the
room’s center. The armor was empty, yet hovered in place as if filled by an
unseen foe. All sound was gone, leaving the chamber eerily silent and still.
There was nothing beyond the room, only Kyofu and this mysterious visitor.
“Emma-O,”
Kyofu growled. “The Fortune of Death.”
The empty
helmet turned to look down at Kyofu. “Will you not bow down and pay homage to
me?” it demanded. “Will you not honor a superior being?”
“I honor
no pathetic Fortune,” Kyofu growled. “Especially not one so weak as you, fool.”
“I was not
speaking to you, dream-beast,” the figure said absently. “I speak to the one
who knows of duty and respect.” It waved a gigantic, gauntlet-clad hand toward
Kyofu.
Pain.
Unimaginable pain. Kyofu would have screamed had not his mortal form been so
paralyzed with agony. Kyofu spasmed, then collapsed.
“Rise,
Hida Kuroda,” Emma-O said.
The
unliving flesh that comprised Hida Kuroda’s body ached with every movement, but
the former Crab Champion struggled to his feet without complaint. His will had
been bound to the Onisu for months without release. He had been reduced to
little more than an observer as the demon committed countless atrocities in his
name. The knowledge that it was his fear feeding the Nightmare’s power tortured
his every moment. Yet now, after so long, he was free again. “I thank you,
whoever you are,” he rasped, staring down at his grey, undead flesh. “You have
freed me.”
“Not so,
mortal,” answered the thing before him. “I have merely altered the balance of
power within your soul. You have control of your body now, but you are far from
free.”
Kuroda’s
shoulder’s slumped. “I thought for a moment… perhaps my torment was over. I
thought perhaps I could rejoin my brother. I suppose I should have known
better.”
“A fool’s
dream.” Emma-O said. “I
have done you a favor. I expect it repaid. To that end, you are of no use to me
as a Crab.”
“Use?”
laughed Kuroda hoarsely. “How can a fallen champion be of use to you? Are you
not the Fortune of death? Do your duty and end my misery.”
Emma-O
looked down at Kuroda silently for a long time. “What do you know of duty?” the
Fortune asked.
“I am a
Crab,” Kuroda said.
“Oh?”
Emma-O replied. The Fortune sliced one hand through the air and suddenly they
stood upon a vast, barren plain, roiling with gray fog. Countless wandering
souls milled about the landscape, constantly seeking escape, constantly seeking
a release from the vast nothingness of Meido. “This is my duty, Crab. Your Wall
is nothing compared to this. I am the steward of souls. Were it not for me the
Spirit Realms would be torn asunder by these wandering, restless spirits. Yet
there are no thanks for me. There are no rewards for me. None came to aid me
when Daigotsu invaded my realm and unleashed Fu Leng upon the Heavens. Humanity
owes me a favor for the insult they did to me in allowing Daigotsu to exist. I
have come to see that favor repaid in full, Hida Kuroda.” Emma-O waved his arm
again, and they were back in the burning stables once more.
“That is
no longer my name,” Kuroda hissed. “I have no right to it any longer.”
“I will
call you whatever I please, Hida Kuroda,” the Fortune said ominously. “Your
soul is not yet fully lost to darkness, so long as I will it. Your mind is yet
your own, and that is what makes your service to me so magnificent.”
The former
Crab frowned. “What do you require of me?”
“Few in
the mortal realm honor me properly,” the Fortune rumbled. “Humans rarely
concern themselves with my power save for during their funeral rites. Do they
honor your ancestor, Osano-Wo, only during the thunderstorms he brings? No, of
course not. Yet I am forgotten, abandoned by lesser beings. One of your mortal
princes even dared invade the sanctity of my realm not so long ago.” Emma-O
grew wrathful at the mention of such effrontery. “I will not endure such an outrage!”
Emma-O’s voice echoed within his empty armor. When he spoke again, he was calm
once more. “You compared your duty to mine before. It is an interesting
comparison. The Crab Clan does honor me, with their actions if not their words.
And you despise the darkness that has taken you, even as I hate your masters
Daigotsu and Fu Leng.” An enormous, gauntleted hand rose to point at Kuroda.
“You and I share enemies, Hida Kuroda. And you bring my gift to them. I thank
you.”
Kuroda
frowned. “What is it you want?”
“Only to
bless you,” Emma-O responded. “Only to give you a shadow of my power, that more
souls might be ushered into my realm at your hands. You would retain Kyofu’s
power, but you would be the one in control. I would weave the magic so that
none, not even Daigotsu, would tell what has been done unless you foolishly
revealed yourself.”
“Do as you
like,” the former Crab said weakly. “If I am to be a pawn, I would rather be a
Fortune’s pawn than Daigotsu’s - even if that Fortune is insane.”
Emma-O
held out his gauntlet. Cradled in the palm was a netsuke, an amulet that
crafted from black metal. A tiny golden chain spilled from the gauntlet’s empty
palm. “Accept my blessing.”
“What is
it?” Kuroda asked hesitantly.
“Nothing
more than a physical symbol of our pact. Once you take it in your hand, there
can be no reneging our bargain. You will be blessed by my energy, and you will
remain in control of your form.”
“What
benefit do you gain?”
“So long
as you retain my blessing, all the souls of those you kill will be conscripted
to Meido, regardless of their destiny. My power will grow as your campaign
continues. And when the time is right, I will punish Daigotsu and Fu Leng for
their insolence.” The Fortune regarded Kuroda inquisitively. “I trust you have
no problems with such retribution.”
Kuroda
regarded the Fortune impassively. “No.” He reached out and seized the amulet.
“Excellent,”
Emma-O said, hollow voice booming with pleasure. “You shall be my avatar in the
mortal realm, Hida Kuroda. Serve me well, and cast aside that amulet lest any
recognize its implications.” With that, there was a swelling sound, again
reminding Kuroda of the distant ocean. The Fortune seemed to recede into the
shadows, and then was gone.
The light
from the flames consuming the stable suddenly flared into being once again.
Kuroda was alone in the flaming ruins, a rapidly cooling peasant corpse at his
feet. He looked down at the blackened amulet clenched in his fist. He stared at
it for several long minutes before throwing it to the earth. The roof’s timbers
began falling down around him, bouncing harmlessly off his obsidian armor. Hida
Kuroda took up his blade and walked from the burning building back into the
chaos outside.
•
Tadenori
surveyed the devastation laid out before him. He had seen the ravages of two
wars and countless border skirmishes. He had seen the ruin his lord Ijiasu had
made of the Dragonfly Clan’s meager territories. Yet he had never seen anything
like this. “The men who did this…” he began, but the words stuck in his throat.
“No man did this. This was the work of animals.”
Midoru
said nothing. The horrors that had been visited on the village were still
evident in many ways. Indescribable stains still marked the ground and many of
the ruined structures, leaving no doubt in the two samurai’s minds that the
villagers had endured unimaginable torture at the hands of their murderers.
Death did not disturb Midoru; indeed, it had been his constant companion.
Tadenori had been right, however. This was not death. It was malicious, murderous
slaughter. “Have you ever served on the Kaiu Wall, Tadenori-san?”
“No,” the
Lion said flatly. “Lord Ginawa deemed me too valuable to be squandered on such
a detail.” It was not arrogance or boasting, merely recitation of fact.
“You
requested such duty, then?”
Tadenori
nodded. “I believed that in facing an inhuman opponent, I would be better
prepared for the horrors of war.” He surveyed the ruins a second time, his face
ashen. “I doubt anything could have prepared me for something like this.”
“If any
man can be prepared for such as this, then he is a man beyond redemption,”
Midoru said quietly with a glance over his shoulder to their waiting Hiruma
guide. “We must instead steel ourselves in preparation for punishing those
responsible.”
“Hmph,”
Tadenori grunted. “Very well.”
Disgusted,
Tadenori stalked off to examine other parts of the village. He found the
Crane’s presence infuriating. The man was perfectly calm in every circumstance,
no matter how bizarre or unexpected. What infuriated Tadenori the most was his
inexhaustible resolve. The duelist had not once faltered during their trek,
even when they viewed the carnage that had overtaken the village. It was
maddening.
Minutes
passed into hours as the two men and their troops scoured the village separately.
Neither knew what they were looking for, but each secretly hoped for some sign
that would show them how to track their prey, some hint of weakness that could
be used against their inhuman foes.
Tadenori
had begun to lose heart, his resolve eroded by the decimated village’s
spectacle, when he stumbled across an oddity. Amid the ruins of one
particularly large building, there was a perfect circle where the ash had not
been disturbed. The Lion warrior frowned. In the days since the village’s
destruction, there had been the typical mountain winds and at least one brisk
rain. Yet this small pile of ash appeared as though it had been created by fire
not an hour previously. He knelt, curious, and waved his tessen briskly before
it.
Nothing.
Not so much as a single particle of ash stirred despite the wave of air the
iron fan pushed before it. Tadenori’s frown deepened. He reached his hand out
as if to touch the tiny pile, then withdrew it, feeling a small pang of fear.
“Bah,”
muttered the Lion, angry with himself for succumbing to such foolish emotion.
He reached out cautiously and touched the ash with the tip of his tessen. It
fell away from his touch instantly, the entire pile disappearing as if blown
away by a strong breeze. The fingers that held the fan tingled strangely.
Beneath
the ash, obscured until the moment of Tadenori’s touch, lay an amulet. It was
blackened, but not by fire. It did not appear to be stone or metal, but some
unidentifiable material that resembled both. Tiny characters adorned its surface,
but not in any language Tadenori recognized. His curiosity aroused, he reached
out to take the amulet.
“Leave it
be, Tadenori,” Midoru’s voice was harsh, unyielding. He stepped into the Lion’s
field of vision, his dark eyes bright with concern. “I recognize the symbols
engraved on that netsuke. It is powerful, but more dangerous than you can
imagine.”
Tadenori’s
brow furrowed. “Is this a thing of the Shadowlands?”
The Crane
shook his head. “No, it is not,” he said, eyes narrowing. “It was forged by the
Fortune of Death. Nemuranai such as those are dangerous for those not strong
enough to wield them properly.”
“If
strength is required, then it belongs to the Lion,” Tadenori said, his voice
harsh. He reached out and took the amulet, tucking it absently into his obi.
“There is nothing else here for us, Midoru. We should go.” He turned and
stalked off toward the Hiruma mountains, back toward where their guide waited.
Doji
Midoru watched the Lion recede, his mouth a grin line. After a few moments, he
followed.