One Question
by Rich
Wulf
In the last several years, Daigotsu had seldom been
alone. Seldom was he without numerous bodyguards and attendants. Seldom were
the Onisu far from his sight. Kyoden and Shahai were always at hand. Now, the
Onisu had been dispatched on various missions, and Kyoden lay dead. Shahai had
remained behind, ruling the court of the City of the Lost in his stead. Save
for one man, Daigotsu walked alone through the darkest regions of the Shadowlands.
Behind him, Chuda Mishime stumbled over a loose stone
and cursed sharply. Daigotsu glared back at the weedy little shugenja.
“Silence, Mishime-san,” he commanded. “This deep in the Shadowlands there are
creatures not even I would wish to face. Stealth will serve us well.”
“My apologies, Dark Lord,” Mishime said, leaning on
his knees as he caught his breath. “I fear that our climb through the mountains
exhausted me and I cannot continue. While my loyalty to you is boundless, I
fear such physical activities are not my strong suit. Would not Kokujin or
Nokatsu have provided you better protection on this journey?”
“Kokujin does as he pleases and Nokatsu would not be
welcome where we go,” Daigotsu said. “In any case, I do not require
protection.”
“Then why bring me along?” Mishime asked.
Daigotsu gave the young maho-tsukai a speculative
gaze. “I know that you are powerful, and I know that you are loyal, but other
than these things I do not truly know you, Mishime. Only pawns should be used
blindly; I will not have a servant that I do not trust. The wilderness tends to
bring out the worst in people, I find, so by traveling through the heart of the
Shadowlands with you I may yet find out how thoroughly I can rely upon you. It
was our journeys together in my youth that led me to know Omoni, Kyoden, and
Kokujin so well. It was through hardship that we came to trust one another.”
“And I have disappointed you with my frailty, Dark
Lord,” Mishime said, bowing in shame.
“Not at all,” Daigotsu said. “You are correct. It is
time we rested.”
“As you say, Dark Lord.” Mishime bowed again.
Daigotsu seated himself in the shadows of a large
overhanging stone. With a small gesture, he summoned a dark flame on the earth
before him. The strange fire radiated heat to ward off the chilling cold but
gave off no light to attract the local creatures. Mishime carefully seated
himself opposite the Dark Lord, huddling near the flame and holding out his
hands to warm them.
“We should have reached Volturnum by now, according to
the maps provided by the Lost Kaiu,” Mishime said. “Are you certain that we are
yet headed in the correct direction?”
“I am certain that the maps are useless,” Daigotsu
replied. “The Shadowlands is a living place. It shifts and moves at a whim.
Volturnum is never in the same place twice; the maps merely gave us a general
idea where to begin searching. Should we draw near, I am certain I can find the
way. I have been there before, and the aura of magic that surrounds the place
is unlike anything else in the Shadowlands.”
“I hope you are as confident as you seem, Dark Lord,”
Mishime said, sounding unconvinced.
“You are an honest man, Mishime,” Daigotsu said with a
chuckle. “That is rare even in the Empire.”
“Lies only delay the inevitable,” Mishime said. “The
truth is far more useful, and often more unexpected.”
“Your words reflect my own philosophy,” Daigotsu said.
“I think I chose well from those who answered the call. You fear me, yet you
speak your mind. You will make a most suitable hatamoto.”
“I am honored, Dark Lord, but reluctant to accept,”
Mishime said. “I think that Lady Shahai would not approve of my presence in the
Temple.”
“Because you once led a rival cult of Bloodspeakers?”
Daigotsu asked.
“The only thing a Bloodspeaker fears more than the
Jade Magistrates is another band of Bloodspeakers,” Mishime said. “It was
Iuchiban’s command that we fight for his pleasure, to weed out the weak and
leave only his strongest servants alive when he returns.”
“You need not instruct me in Bloodspeaker philosophy,
Mishime,” Daigotsu replied. “I was raised amid it.”
“Is that so?” Mishime replied, suddenly interested. “I
had not known you were a Bloodspeaker.”
“Few people know the full truth about my past,”
Daigotsu said. “That was essential. Now, the time for secrecy is over.”
“Since our defeat in Otosan Uchi?” Mishime said.
“Defeat?” Daigotsu replied with a small smile. “The
truth need be known only so that the Lost will realize that it was not a defeat
at all. Shahai, Omoni, Kokujin, the Dark Oracles, and the Onisu already know
the true reason behind our attack on Otosan Uchi.”
“And what was that?” Mishime asked. Daigotsu’s eyes
gleamed. “I have sundered the boundaries of the Spirit Realms and released the
soul of Fu Leng into Tengoku, the Celestial Heavens. Now an army of demons
marches beside the Dark Kami, raging against the home of the Kami. I have
fulfilled my destiny.”
Mishime’s eyes were wide. “How did you do this?” he
asked, not even thinking to question the truth of the words. All who served
Daigotsu knew better than to do that.
“It was my destiny,” Daigotsu replied. “At the dawn of
the Empire, you may know, Fu Leng was first defeated by the Seven Thunders. His
soul was bound within the Twelve Black Scrolls and his body was destroyed.
During the Clan War, he returned in the body of the Last Hantei and was again
defeated by the descendants of those same Seven Thunders, including the future
Emperor, Toturi. Having died while bound within a mortal vessel, his soul was
dispatched to Meido, the realm where souls who have not resolved their kharma
go to await reincarnation. The Fortune of Death bound Fu Leng’s disoriented
soul before it could attempt escape, and there it has waited ever since.”
“A sad end for the Dark God,” Mishime said.
“But not the end at all,” Daigotsu said. “Fu Leng was
more clever than he was given credit, and even as he was slain he had put plans
into motion for his own rescue. Years before the Clan War, a cell of
Bloodspeakers living near Otosan Uchi discovered an ancient prophecy. This
prophecy, well hidden by the Scorpion Clan, stated that Fu Leng would arise
when the Hantei was the last of his line in the Empire. The Bloodspeakers
sought to quicken this apocalypse by kidnapping the Emperor’s wife and
children. Sadly their tendency toward melodrama betrayed them, as they chose to
slaughter the family ritually instead of simply killing the lot of them and
being done with it. While they prepared the ritual, a ronin by the name of
Yotsu infiltrated the Bloodspeaker Camp, exchanged one of his own children for
the Hantei’s son, and escaped with the heir. The Bloodspeakers never knew the
difference, and might not have known, had not fate intervened.”
“What happened?” Mishime asked.
“Though he was but a child, Yotsu’s son was as proud
and bold as any samurai,” Daigotsu said. “When the Bloodspeakers prepared to
sacrifice the boy, he spat in their faces and laughed. He knew that his father
had already escaped and he wished the cultists to know how they had failed. The
plan had been ruined, so the Bloodspeakers saw no purpose in slaughtering their
prisoners. Rather, they saw their worth as hostages as they fled for Unicorn
lands. By the time they arrived, it was clear that the Empress’ wife was with
child. The idea of raising an Imperial heir to be a Bloodspeaker was quite
appealing, so they allowed the Empress to live for a time. I was the resulting
child.”
“You are a true Hantei?” Mishime asked, brow furrowing
quizzically. “That cannot be so. If you were alive during the Clan War, then Fu
Leng could never have returned, for Hantei XXXVIII would not have been the last
Hantei.”
“I was not in Rokugan during the Clan War,” Daigotsu
said. “Hantei XXXVIII was the only Hantei in existence. But that takes me away
from the course of the tale somewhat.”
“I apologize for interrupting,” Mishime said,
confused.
“Think nothing of it,” Daigotsu replied. “I will
explain all in due time. During my birth, the Bloodspeakers performed an
experimental ritual that would bind me body and soul to an unnamed oni. Thus
when I was born, I combined the strongest qualities of both demon and man. This
is what makes my maho so much more potent than others, and this is what allows
me to possess the bodies of the Onisu at will.”
“The results cannot be disputed,” Mishime said. “But
it seems careless for the Bloodspeakers to experiment with something so
precious as an Imperial Heir.”
“There were tests. I was not the first to undergo the
ritual,” Daigotsu said. “The first subject, a child named Omoni, was markedly
less successful. In his case the summoning failed and instead of an oni he was
bound to the unquiet spirit of a bakemono. The second attempt, which they
performed upon the child of Yotsu, was far more successful. He eventually grew
to become Kyoden, who was like a brother to me.”
“I heard he was slain during the invasion of Otosan
Uchi,” Mishime said. “You have my sympathy, Dark Lord. I have lost much of my
family as well.”
“I thank you, Mishime-san, but do not give up on
Kyoden yet,” Daigotsu answered, his tone suddenly cold and distant. “But back to
the tale at hand. I was the third subject, and without egotism I can say that I
was the most powerful of the three. The Bloodspeakers were well satisfied, but
they knew they could not hide a child of Hantei for long. They performed
another ritual not seen since the time of Iuchiban. Omoni, Kyoden, and myself
were all physically exiled into Jigoku. Though not even an instant passed by
our reckoning it was
nearly two decades later when that same cult of
Bloodspeakers, now led by Iuchi Shahai, summoned us to Rokugan again.”
“Strange,”
Mishime said. “I have heard rumors that Toturi’s illegitimate son Kaneka was
similarly transported to Tengoku for a time. It seems like an extraordinary
coincidence that something so similar would happen to you.”
“You may call it coincidence, but I feel that it is
destiny,” Daigotsu said. “I am kharmically tied to all of the Four Winds, each
in a different manner. Like Sezaru, I was born with the gift of powerful magic.
Like Kaneka, I was taken beyond the mortal realm as an infant. Like Naseru, my
teachers were my true father’s enemies. Like Tsudao, who is Lady Sun reborn, I
am guided by divinity. Fu Leng came
to me while I was in Jigoku and planted dreams within
my mind, dreams that I would not understand until I came of age.”
“He planned his own rescue, then?” Mishime asked.
“Not entirely,” Daigotsu said. “I think Fu Leng was as
surprised as any to find that I had released him from Meido. His original
intent was only for me to become a great leader, to keep the Shadowlands safe and
stable until the next Day of Thunder. That was not sufficient in my mind. Would
the Shadowlands be taken seriously if we only rose to power once every thousand
years? I think not. It is time for the cycle to be broken. It is time to show
the Empire that we will not be bound by their rules — they will be bound by
ours. There is nothing Rokugan has accomplished that we cannot undo, not even
the death of Fu Leng. There is nothing they have that we cannot corrupt, not
even Heaven itself. There is no weapon they have that cannot be turned against
them — even the purity of the Naga’s slumber we have turned to our advantage by
moving our demon armies through their nightmares. We are not less than the
Empire. We are not the equals of the Empire. We are greater than the Empire.”
“Inspiring words,” Mishime said.
“Then mark them well, Mishime, for you will be my
herald. You shall carry news of Fu Leng’s return to the City of the Lost and
beyond. You will find others like yourself and send them forth to gather the Lost
to worship our Dark Kami. With Fu Leng as our master, we will rule the
Celestial Heavens and the Festering Pit of Jigoku. Let Rokugan be crushed in
between.”
“I would be honored, Dark Lord,” Mishime said eagerly.
“But that can come later,” Daigotsu said, stifling a
yawn with one fist. “Now, it is time to sleep. Even the Lord of the Shadowlands
requires rest…”
•
Volturnum had not changed since the last time Daigotsu
had been here. He suspected it had not changed since the Battle of Oblivion’s
Gate, and likely would not change again until an event just as climactic. He
stepped through the entrance to the massive arena in the center of the city,
Mishime walking a few steps behind. The shattered semicircle of Oblivion’s Gate
awaited them. Seated next to it was Tonbo Toryu, the Oracle who had greeted
Daigotsu and his companions on their first visit. The Oracle’s golden robes
were streaked with black. His face was pale and gaunt, his fine white hair
matted and gray.
“Dark Lord,” the Oracle said without looking up.
“Oracle of Thunder,” Daigotsu said.
“No,” the Oracle replied. “No longer.”
“Is that so?” Daigotsu asked, raising one eyebrow.
Toryu smiled grimly. “Your actions have caused
disharmony in all that exists, as you knew they would. Your murder of Toturi drove
Kaede to take the throne, and in doing so an Oracle interfered with the affairs
of mortals. Void, which had before been always neutral, now stood against the
darkness. It was a cosmic instability that could not be allowed to endure.”
“I take no credit or blame for the foolishness of
others, though it pleases me to hear it,” Daigotsu said. “I will take no
responsibility for another’s actions, even if they serve my purposes.”
“I chose to correct the instability,” Toryu said. “I
willingly became the Dark Oracle of the Void.”
“You have my congratulations,” Daigotsu said with a
derisive smile. “Welcome to the Lost, Tonbo Toryu.”
“Save your mockery,” Toryu said. “I do not revel in my
Taint.”
“You will,” Daigotsu said. “They all do, in time.”
“What do you want from me?” the Oracle demanded. “I
have already given you my guidance.”
“No,” Daigotsu said. “All mortals are entitled to ask
one question of each of the Oracles. When I visited you nine years ago I asked
you no question. I have come here today to ask it of you now.”
“Fine, then,” the Oracle said. “Ask me your question,
Dark Lord.”
Daigotsu nodded. “It is my purpose, my honor, and my
pleasure to now lead the armies of the
Lost against the Empire. However, I fear that should I be defeated the Horde
will splinter, as it did before when Fu Leng was slain. My question is this. I
wish to know who will kill me — and how.”
The Dark Oracle’s eyes widened. “Are you certain, Dark
Lord?” he asked. “It is rare that I allow any mortal to rescind their question,
but that is an answer few truly wish to hear. I would not wish to burden any
soul with that knowledge, even one as cold and remorseless as yours.”
“It is necessary, Oracle,” Daigotsu said. “Now tell
me.”
The Dark Oracle of the Void nodded slowly, and gave
Daigotsu his answer.