Legacy of the Naga Part 1 - By Edward Bolme
"Have you heard of Uikku, beloved?"
"You have spoken of him before, Daini, and I know what you have told me. He was an unusual man, seemingly a fool, except when he spoke. He was a prophet."
Daini reclined in Mara's coils and idly sipped his tea. Being wrapped in powerful loops of snakeskin was a curious way to be embraced, but one which he had grown quite fond of over the last ten years. "In the MiruÉ in the school that I attended as a child, we studied the serene prophet Uikku intensely. Lord TÉ our chief instructor knew that the prophecies would guide us through the storm to come."
Mara noticed how Daini halted his speech, avoiding any direct mention of his former clan. Even after all this time, though, he still considered it his clan, and mention of it slipped through his lips in happy or unguarded moments. She could see in his strange, round-pupilled eyes that his break with his clan and his vows grieved him deeply, yet she knew that he'd change none of it. His choice to part with his sister Hitomi was the right choice, and if his fate as an outcast were the sole open sore in the Dragon Clan, so be it. All that he had done he had done on the orders of his daimyo, the kami Togashi, and for his sake. It was this inner strength, this pillar of duty that first attracted Mara to him. It was soÉ naga.
She waited patiently for him to continue.
"Uikku prophesied many times throughout his life. AndÉ my school seemed to have all his prophecies. Well, almost all. There were a few others we recovered from the ruins of Kyuden Bayushi after the Scorpion Clan was defeated, but these only confirmed the prophecies we had.
"As the Clan War progressed, I remember one by one as each prophecy was fulfilled." Daini paused, marshalling his thoughts. "The Crab was the first. 'It will be the return of an ancient hero that marks their doom,' the prophecy read. 'He will destroy the Crab Clan and everything for which they have fought.' That was Hida Yakamo. He took the Claw from Kuni Yori, to appease his vanity. He stood by as his brother was crucified on a battle standard, and he used that banner to lead Shadowlands forces into Beiden Pass. He gave his name to an oni and unleashed it upon the Empire. For a thousand years the Crab had kept the Shadowlands at bay, and within but three years, they marched freely across the Empire under the mon of one of the Great Clans."
"That does not sound like the return of an ancient hero to me," said Mara.
"Neither did it to me, and it was not until the Day of Thunder that I understood. You see, the Crab Clan had long held an artifact known as the Jade Hand. The Jade Hand itself had a prophecy, that a hero from long ago would one day return to claim his prize. The Crab held onto the hand for centuries, some whispering that Hida Atarasi would reclaim it in a time of great need. In the end, Yakamo understood that his actions had ruined his clan. He severed the horrid claw from his hand, and swore to uphold his clan's traditional vows at all costs. Times were desperate; he could wait no longer for an ancient hero to return to save his people, so he took the hand for his own, not understanding that he himself was fulfilling that prophecy, he was the Crab Thunder reincarnated to our time.
"I saw him on the Day of Thunder, with his jade hand glowing fiercely and his tetsubo held on high, as he slew the Shadowlands creatures around Otosan Uchi. The man was unstoppable. Sweat and blood drenched his hair, his armor was battered, yet never before have I seen such a fire in a man's eye, nor heard a war cry dominate a battlefield so utterly. His hundred vows danced about his armor like butterflies, strangely calm against the furious swings of his weapon. I had never admired the man, never until that moment."
"And now he is ascended," said Mara.
"Now he is ascended," echoed Daini, "and I think this world is the poorer for it."
"You said the Crab was the first Doom," said Mara, discreetly avoiding mention of the fate of his sister. "What others were there?"
"The Doom of the Crane referred to a fallen foe. We assumed it was Bayushi Shoju, or Yogo Junzo, or perhaps both, prophecies can have double meanings like that. Shoju was dead, fallen in battle, and Junzo was corrupted, his soul fallen as far as it is possible for a mortal to fall, a willing servant of the Dark God Fu Leng. But we were wrong; the fallen foe was Bayushi Kachiko. She was the Empress, the most powerful woman in the world, so it was hard to think of her as fallen in any way, but she was first and foremost the Mother of Scorpions. Her clan had been destroyed, her child slain, and her husband defamed. It is said she kidnapped Doji Hoturi, the Crane daimyo, and created the False Hoturi to sow discord and infamy in his name. That imposter was finally slain, but not before the Crane clan had their name and lands both ruined by the False Hoturi and his army of Shadowlands creatures.
"In a like manner, the Doom of the Lion was embraced wholly by Matsu Tsuko and Ikoma Tsanuri, both of whom followed their vows to the throne even when it was clear that Fu Leng himself had possessed Emperor Hantei the 39th. They and those who served them became willing servants of evil, claiming their vows shackled them. As a result, Lion fought Lion at the gates of Otosan Uchi, nearly destroying the clan.
"For the Phoenix, Uikku speaks of their pride, and indeed the Elemental Masters thought they could master the Black Scrolls. Instead, the Black Scrolls corrupted them. Only one of the Council, Isawa Kaede, survived the Day of Thunder, and that only because the other four sent her away, and forbade her to study the scrolls.
"The Scorpion's Doom we thought had already been fulfilled by the fall of the Scorpion after the Coup, but actually I now believe it referred to Kachiko and her position on the Throne. She had been poisoning Hantei the 39th, and this poison so weakened his body that Fu Leng was able to possess it. Thus the corruption she had allowed through the False Hoturi came back to haunt her in her very own bedchambers. The moment she thought the throne was truly hers, she found herself chained to it by her own actions, for she had to remain and keep the Emperor weak with poisons.
"The Doom of the Unicorn I think is much more intriguing. I thought it was as simple as Kamoko being the first to fall in the final battle of the Day of Thunder. But that appears to have been a foretaste of the real Doom, when Shinjo returned and purged the Clan of the kolat that had infiltrated it so deeply. I'm not sure the Unicorn have yet recovered from that."
Mara leaned her torso forward. "And the Dragon? What of their Doom?"
Daini's face at once became impassive. "It was never spoken of. I can only assume that this was because it would speak of Togashi's death at the hands of Fu Leng. If such a thing were known, we- the samurai of the Dragon Clan would have moved to prevent it. And by trying to avoid Togashi's fate, the fate of the Empire would have been imperiled. Togashi had known for a thousand years that he would die that day, and I suppose he is the only one who needed to know that Doom."
Daini lapsed into silence, his eyes looking inward, darting randomly back and forth as he retraced the long, convoluted paths that his life had led. Mara let his thoughts run free for a long while, then gently prodded, "why do you mention the Dooms this day, my love?"
"There is one Doom left," said Daini heavily.
"What is it? You have mentioned all seven Great Clans. Is it the Doom of the Emperor?"
"No." Daini sighed. "It mentions no one specifically. It reads, 'They believe they have come to the Empire to assist against the Shadowlands, but it shall be this very action that will be their doom.' Scholars have debated this one for a long time. The text says that they 'come to the Empire,' which means that whoever they are, they are not a part of the Empire. Some think this refers to the Mantis, others to the Moto of the Unicorn, still others to barbarians from lands outside Rokugan."
"You do not agree with them," observed Mara.
"No, I do not. I believe this doom refers to the naga."
* * *
Daini and Mara walked along the forest road, Mara adopting the two-legged form out of deference to her husband. Daini could feel the weight of untold years weighing upon him as they walked. In his youth, he had been the de facto daimyo for the Mirumoto family, and he had walked in the plazas of Otosan Uchi, a city built by the kami over a thousand years ago. He knew the weight of the generations of ancestors who watched his every move, yet it was here, in the Shinomen Forest, that he felt he walked on the brink of eternity.
The flagstones that made up the road were immense, thirty paces long and easily that wide. Daini tried to imagine what sort of magics had been required to place these stones here, so exactly fitted that even after the thousand years of the Emerald Empire, grass did not find its way through at the seams, but only in those places where a great stone had cracked. The lichen-stained stone was rippled like the surface of a mountain stream, worn smooth by the passage of countless naga. Daini knew the ripples made it easier for the naga to move with their serpentine tails, but it meant the samurai had to watch his step lest he stumble time and again.
Nevertheless, Daini often looked about. In the thick, lush forest around him, he could see naga archers standing guard. Their 30-foot tails coiled through the underbrush, their powerful green arms held arrows nocked to their strange bows. But for the occasional sliding blink of a nictitating membrane, Daini could easily have believed them to be immense porcelain statues glazed with emerald.
"Your people do me honor," he said to his Mara.
"Of course," she replied, with a slight smile. Although it no longer confused her, she still found some small amusement in the human tendency to state the obvious. It had to be their way of sharing experiences without the Akasha.
Great honor, thought Daini. They show me their trust by letting me see them, and showing me my value by guarding my passage. Daini smiled wryly as he remembered the first time he met the naga. Well, more accurately, the first day the naga met him. He never saw them at all. Just suddenly, his sleeve was pinned to a tree by two arrows, one on each side of his wrist.
Lost in thought, Daini looked up and realized he had no idea where they were. The trees around him were immense, towering higher than any castle he had seen. Even the ferns towered over his head. The light, though strong, filtered its way through the canopy, turning everything about him a lush shade of green.
They were deep in the heart of Shinomen Forest, deeper than he had ever been allowed before. The only noise to be heard was the breathing of the forest, a deep whisper that moved slowly and gently through the branches, caressing his face with a cool breeze - and the rhythmic pat-pat of his sandals on the stone road. Daini flushed with embarrassment. Even after all these years, no matter how hard he tried, he could not be noiseless.
The last time he visited court, Emperor Toturi had even complimented him on his grace and stillness. It was true, he had learned much from Mara, but the naga could sneak up on an owl. Even in their house, Daini never heard his wife moving about. Perhaps, he thought, patience and stillness are the gifts of eternity, which mortals shall never know.
Ahead, the road was barred by an immense constrictor, standing three times as tall as Daini. The creature's immense tail was impossible to measure, for it was wound back and forth in a convoluted pattern, creating a veritable wall of serpent flesh that coiled in and out of itself. The constrictor pressed his palms together in greeting and shifted his torso to the side of the road. The tail moved as well, and somehow, out of the twining knots, and opening appeared for the samurai to pass through.
As he did, he saw the temple, great and golden, shining in the light of the sun. Magnificent towers rose seemingly at random, observatories for the naga astrologers. The vines that grew up along the sides of the ancient temple only enhanced the ancient beauty of the immense friezes and statuary that adorned the great walls. Here all was still, even the breath of the forest.
Daini felt that he was now about to cross into eternity.
Misunderstanding his hesitance, Mara led Daini forward to the ramp that led to the great circular doorway of the temple. Two cobra mages stood at the sides of the ramp, and as the pair approached, the cobra pressed their palms together in greeting. As they moved their hands apart, Daini saw a pearl hovering at the center of their palms. They turned towards the ramp, passed their hands through the air in mystical gestures, and the ramp itself changed shape into stairs.
Daini and Mara mounted them and entered the temple. As they passed though the temple, Daini marveled at the paintings on each wall. Loud, detailed, bright and colorful, they were utterly unlike the understated paintings of Rokugan, yet they held a wild, alien, beauty of their own. Daini could recognize some of them as portrayals of the creation legends of the naga,the temple, an beautiful open glade that looked to Daini like a marvelously overgrown garden. Daini looked at the faces about him: the Dashmar, the Qamar, several powerful shugenja and astrologers he'd met, and a few others that he did not recognize.
The naga spoke among themselves for a while, all but one of them, who merely listened. Daini could not follow what they said, for much of it relied on nuance of tones and expressions that were alien to him, as well as the undertones of communication through the Akasha, the naga collective conscious. While Daini could emulate many of the noises of the naga language, the fact that he was not a part of the Akasha meant he would never communicate better than a little child in their tongue.
At last the hissing discussion ceased, and the naga turned their slitted eyes to him.
"Tell them what you have told me," said Mara.
"Mara has told me of your Great Sleep," Daini said. "Rather than let your race fade away, your Qatol had your people wait for the time when you would be needed to fight against your enemy once more. The first rumors we Rokugani heard of your return took place around the time of the Scorpion Coup against our Emperor. Your people awakened when Fu Leng began to manifest himself once more, and the Twelve Black Scrolls were being opened. Your armies arrived at a very opportune time for the Empire. Your help was greatly appreciated."
"We came to help you against the influence of the Shadowlands, and the Foul behind it," said the Dashmar. "We know all this."
"That was the Day of Thunder," Daini said, his heart sinking. "Your civilization was already asleep when Fu Leng was defeated. The Seven Thunders defeated him, and it was foretold that they would return to defeat him a second time. The Day of Thunder came, and indeed the Seven Thunders did gather again, in the palace of Otosan Uchi. They fought and defeated Fu Leng," he said.
He looked around. The naga stood as still as statues. For seven long breaths he looked at them, one by one. They clearly did not understand what he was saying.
He took a deep breath. "You thought you arrived to help us, to fight Fu Leng, but that was the destiny of the Seven Thunders. One cannot defy destiny; you could neither have helped them fight Fu Leng, nor hindered them from doing so. In point of fact, when Fu Leng was at last defeated, no naga was there to fight. You didn't help."
"The Dashmar brought the truth to the Imperial Court," said the new Dashmar, his tail lashing in irritation. "The Isha slew countless vile creatures with his bow, and every naga warriors did the same. The Qamar fell aiding your armies. How can you say our people did not help?"
Daini looked around. They still didn't understand.
"Yes, you helped. I of all people know what you have done, and believe me, the Empire can never repay their debt to you. But that is beside the point. This was the Day of Thunder. It was our time, not yours."
He dropped his eyes. "Your Great Sleep ended too early," he said. "I fear you will pay the price."
* * *
After Daini and Mara had left, the naga elders conferred at length on the prophecy and its meaning.
"How can the prophecy of the humans doom us ((and wrap us in constrictor coils))?"
"They ((chatty hopping creatures)) are not of the Akasha, and this Uikku knew nothing of us."
"He knew nothing of us, but he knew of his people, and their war, and this Fu Leng. His words did not trap us ((ambush us with arrows)), instead we trapped ourselves into his words ((sinking into quicksand))"
At last, the one silent naga spoke. "This is correct. We did not defeat Fu Leng, the humans did. Since we have arrived, everything that has happened has doomed us further. The Shashakar sacrificed his soul, and we lost his brightness forever. With that loss we contaminated the Akasha with a human soul. In our efforts to understand the humans, the Kazaq took a tattoo from Daini's Clan, and went mad, lost to the Akasha. The Pale Eye was slain, and its murderer has ascended in its place. The Bright Eye has seen evil in itself, and has gone out, leaving the Yakamo in its place in the heavens. And above all, the Foul itself was aroused from its quiescence and warred upon the world. Who is to say that our arrival did not bring this about, at a time when it should not have been? Had we slept still, perhaps the eyes would not have been plucked out from the heavens. The Daini is right."
"But the skein of the Great Sleep ensured-" interrupted the cobra shugenja in unison.
With a wave of his hand and an Akashic glare, he halted the cobras' protestations. "No longer shall we attempt to deceive ourselves. We must be honest with our people. That the cobra tried to hide the truth from the rest of the Akasha is proof that the Great Sleep was not enacted properly, and I fear that the Akasha may have been forever damaged by this divisiveness and secrecy. Accept your failure ((face the mirrored pool and see your abomination))."
The cobra pressed their palms together and bowed their heads. "As the Akasha commands," they murmured.
"The world had changed when we woke up from our Great Sleep, and it was not as it should be. Now the very eyes of the Atman are new, and they are human eyes, eyes alien to us. This is not our time, or else we are not this time's people. We must undo the damage done. We must realign ourselves with the Eyes of the Atman, we must clear the Akashic Pool of its human contamination. We must heal. We must sleep. Even so, if the prophecy of this Uikku is right, we will never again be as we once were. "
The assembled elders pressed their palms together and bowed their heads. "You ((O Great One)) are the Qatol," they murmured.
* * *
Mara and Daini sat in a quiet corner of the temple, awaiting the decision of the elders.
"I can feel their discussion," said Mara, "it sends tremors through the Akasha. I suppose here of all places the Akasha's voice is most clear."
"What do they speak of?" asked Daini.
"They speak of purity," she said sadly. "They speak of sleep. They speak of dreams."
Daini sat in silence, contemplating. Then he looked up. "Mara-chan," he asked, looking for any way to distract himself, "why are pearls so pure?"
"Have I not old you?"
"You've told me much of pearls, and their magic, and their uses," he replied, "but you haven't told me why they are pure. Well, perhaps you did, once, but that was before I knew you and your people as well as I do now. Even still, there is so much I do not understandÉ"
"Here," Mara said, handing him a pearl. He blinked, wondering where she had been hiding it. It seemed to just appear in her hand, a jewel in a soft bed of green skin.
"Look at the pearl," she said. "It is white, as bright at the Bright Eye. Its color is pure; its shape is perfect and unblemished. It is as beautiful as a drop of dew in the dawn of spring, or a single tear of rain lit by the fires of Naag Panchami. The Bright Eye sees all that is good in the world, and this pearl reminds us of that, as well."
Daini rolled the pearl between his fingertips as she explained its virtues. It was smooth, like her skin, pure like her eyes. But he could no more explain why pearls were pure than he could explain why he loved her.
"But to know why a pearl is pure, you must understand the Akasha. If you are not a part of the Akasha, you cannot really understand the pool," she smiled, "but to your credit you admit that you do not understand. The Akasha is the soul of the naga race, and we are always endeavoring to improve ourselves. As the naga enter the pool and become one with the people, this effort continues. Blended with the race, it is easy to see what imperfections may have followed the soul into the Akasha. That imperfection is cast out from the Akasha, purifying it. Thus the Akasha always evolves itself.
"When an imperfection is cast out of the Akasha, it is placed in one of our oysters to be forever sealed away from our race, never to stain our Akasha again. The oyster imprisons the impurity in a pearl, wrapping it tightly. Thus from impurity comes purity, and the pearl is itself part of the purity of the Akasha."
Daini could almost grasp it, but his logical Kitsuki training intervened. "But the heart of the pearl is an impurity, isn't it?" he objected
"It is an impurity that is no more, for it has been cast out," answered Mara. "If you cannot understand, then simply accept it."
"And the Black Pearls?"
"They are a much deeper secret," she said, "and one I may not be able to fully explain, especially in your words. The Black Pearls are not my task, and the vedics are the ones who understand them best. As I understand it, they are the good of seeing the evil in the world, for only by truly perceiving evil can one therefore completely avoid becoming it."
There was a long pause before Daini spoke again. "I am sorry that the Shashakar had to give himself for Yakamo."
"It was his choice," Mara said simply. "Your people knew not what they were doing by preparing to burn the Yakamo. The Qatol affirmed our actions, for he spoke with the spirit of the Yakamo in the place you call Jigoku."
"But that means that the Shashakar did not reenter the Akasha, and that has diminished your people, there is one less naga soul in the world."
"Your words about the prophecy did not surprise me, Daini, my love," said Mara, "nor did they truly surprise the others. We are a dying race. Our numbers were diminishing before the Great Sleep, and we calculated that we had perhaps one or two hundred years left to us. The Great Sleep suspended us for a while, buying us time, but it seems that since we have awakened, our numbers diminish even more rapidly."
"I regret that I had to bring such sad news," said Daini.
"The sadness was there, my love, now we have an explanation for it. You did no harm."
"Still, Mara-chan, I wish your people had not awakened when you had, for how can I truly be happy when my happiness with you comes at the cost of your people?"
"Please do not speak like that," she implored him, touching his hand lightly.
"I will," he responded gruffly. "I would sacrifice everything if it would save your race."
She turned away from him, crossing her arms over her belly. "But Daini, my husband," she said, "what then would become of our child?"
* * *
Preparations for the Great Sleep had been under way for over a year. The Akasha convulsed as the vedics sought to purify it, removing all distractions, all impurities, all stray thoughts and dreams. Nothing would be allowed to remain that could possibly endanger the Akasha.
During this year, Mara and Daini remained at Otosan Uchi, for only at that distance could Mara not be overwhelmed by the magic being worked upon the soul of her people. Even so, many were the nights where Daini was absent from court, tending to his wife while the court's best shugenja shielded their infant son.
The Qatol had chosen Mara and a handful of other naga to remain behind, staying awake while the others slept. These naga would watch over the Shinomen during the years after the spell was completed but before the skein had ripened fully, for during this time, the Great Sleep could be disturbed, and no one knew what effect that would have on the Akasha.
Once the skein matured, the Heart of the Shinomen Forest would be sealed away from the world. Those who sought it would become lost, only to find themselves where they started, or perhaps even on the other side of the forest without having seen a single naga road, temple, or obelisk. The soul of the naga people would be beyond reach, even for those naga of the rearguard; when they died, however, their souls would slip into a similar sleep and slowly be absorbed through the skein, merging with the Akasha until the day the race awakened once again.
The great coils of the spell were only now just beginning to be woven about the Shinomen Forest. The Qatol watched the preparations with satisfaction.
Suddenly he turned, sensing a great concern through the Akasha. A group of vedics and shugenja glided towards him, bearing among them a palanquin. The Qatol knew they were confused and unnerved. He waited, still as a statue, adopting the traditional pose of a great ruler sitting in judgment.
The group arrived, set down their burden, and greeted the Qatol. Then, without further ceremony, the parted the curtains of the palanquin.
"What are they?" asked the Qatol, after a long pause.
"We do not know," answered the group in unison. The Qatol looked at them. Cobra and constrictor, chameleon and greensnake, yet none of them had any idea.
"The Ningyo said the great oyster she opened was dead, giving its life for what you see here," added a chameleon.
The Qatol considered the meaning of this, but just as when the first naga awakened and saw that the sky and world had changed, he found himself in unfamiliar territory. There were no precedents, no traditions, no legends. How typical of the world since the arrival of the humans, he thought.
"I do not think it would be wise to keep them," added a vedic, "such a thing could disrupt the skein, or cause the Akasha great distress."
"Then we shall give the Toturi a parting gift," the Qatol commanded. "The Toturi has been a just ally. He sent us the Daini, and he embraced our people when his own people would not embrace him. He made a treaty with us that there would be lasting peace between human and naga. Make this a gift that he may remember us when we are gone.
"Go now," he added, "for you have little time."
They covered the palanquin again and slithered away rapidly. The Qatol watched them until the ripples of the gathering spell distorted their images, and they were gone.
* * *
To be continuedÉ