Lost in the Darkness
By Shawn Carman

Daidoji Gudeta’s hands were a blur as he drew and fired arrow after arrow. He had been fighting nonstop for what seemed like hours, and was rapidly depleting his supply of ammunition. Soon, he would switch to his blade, but by that time his fate would already be decided. He had no hope of fighting back the seemingly endless horde of bakemono that had been hounding him for the past three hours. He had been picking their leaders off constantly with arrow fire, but more advanced to take their place. Soon, they would wash over him like the tide, and he would be gone forever. If he was lucky.

Gudeta leapt across a jagged outcropping of rock, tucking his legs beneath him in a vain hope that the goblins would be unable to follow him. A few seconds later, he heard their clawed feet scrabbling easily over the obstacle, even though he did not bother to turn around. He knew without looking that he had eight arrows left. He needed three times that number to escape unscathed.

He did not fear death. Death was the duty of every loyal samurai. Gudeta’s regret was that he would die before he caught up with his daimyo Rekai and her vast army, a military force intent on rescuing the Crab warriors besieged at Shiro Hiruma. She had given him a message for the Crane Champion, a message he had delivered as requested. He had hoped to rejoin Rekai, but thus far he had been heavily harassed and had made very poor time. Perhaps he had been a fool to believe he could cross the Shadowlands single-handedly. Perhaps he should have waited at the Great Wall. Now he would die, and no one would ever find his remains, assuming he didn’t rise as undead, to fight against the Crab back at the Wall.

The thought was too much for Gudeta to bear. He cursed himself for a fool. He drew and notched another arrow, preparing to kill the current leading goblin with it. He spun and fired, driving the arrow through the creature’s skull and into the body of the one behind it. With lightning speed, he drew and fired again, this time pinning one foul beast to the ground, where it writhed and frothed in impotent fury.

They were upon him. The Crane warrior drew his blade, despite that he knew he had no chance for survival. He would send many of these abominations to their doom before he died. One leapt at him, only to but cut into two pieces before it ever reached him. Another sliced at him with its claws, but he bent out of the way, twisting away to let the thing smash against the rocks. A third one was too fast, though, and clamped its razor sharp teeth onto his forearm. Despite himself, Gudeta cried out in pain and shook the little monster off. His arm bled freely, staining the white and blue of his kimono. Three more bakemono crouched and prepared to spring on Gudeta. He prepared to die.

The earth lurched and heaved beneath Gudeta’s feet. He slipped and fell, cracking his head against the sharp stone. Blood spilled into his eyes, and the pain caused his vision to blur. He could make out vague, indistinct shapes rising from the earth to envelop the bakemono. It was as if they were being absorbed into thick liquid despite their frantic fighting for freedom.

Gudeta struggled to his feet, feeling light-headed from the pain from both his arm and his head. He lurched away from the screaming goblins, desperate to escape whatever new madness had arisen, but his injuries were too great. His torn forearm could not support his weight, and his balance was off because of the blow to his head. Gudeta staggered briefly, then collapsed back to the ground.

A dark form loomed over him, a man with a hidden face and menacing eyes. The eyes burned into him, piercing the veil of his injured haze and searing a place deep in his mind even as a cool, soothing sensation washed over his arm and head. “Remember,” a voice said deep in his mind. “Remember me…”

* * * * *

Gudeta leapt up from his tatami mat, a cry trapped in his throat. He stopped abruptly, one quivering hand reaching for the sword stand that was so near to his mat. His body was wreathed in perspiration, his teeth clenched tightly. With his left hand he rubbed his right forearm, which burned terribly. A network of tiny, triangular scars ringed his arm. They were barely perceptible during the day, but always seemed to shine in the moonlight.

Not for the first time, Gudeta wondered if he was going mad. He recalled his report to Doji Kurohito, and the harrowing trip through the Shadowlands to rejoin Rekai and her army. It had been difficult and dangerous, but he had no memory of the events from his recurring dream. It was not until weeks after his return to the Crane lands alongside the army that he had discovered, purely by chance, that his travels through that dark realm had taken a day longer than he could remember. Somewhere in the Shadowlands, he had lost an entire day, and he had no memory of what had happened during that time.

His first and greatest fear after the first dream came was that he had been Tainted and could not remember it. Discreetly, he had approached a member of the Jade Magistrates who served Asahina Sekawa. They had tested him and found that he had no trace of Taint. Gudeta had been greatly relieved… at least until the nightmare had begun to happen more frequently. Tonight was the third night in a row, and it became more and more intense with each passing night. Gudeta could no longer deny that something terrible had happened to him in the Shadowlands. Something that was not yet finished.

Gudeta rose from his mat and began dressing in the dark. If he waited until morning, his will would falter. He must leave now. It would likely end his military career to abandon a post in the middle of the night, but he knew that if he remained, he would lose his position regardless when the dream inevitably drove him mad. And for the first time, he had some inkling as to what he must do.

Moments later, blades and bow in hand, Gudeta left a simple note atop his mat and exited the chambers, disappearing into the moonlight.

* * * * *

The sun was slipping beneath the horizon as Gudeta reached the desolate emptiness of Oni Mura. He had not been to the village in many years, but it had not changed. The village had been ravaged by a foul beast from Jigoku decades ago, and though the beast had been slain by valiant Daidoji warriors, the village had never been rebuilt. Some few tenacious peasants had tried to cling to existence around its borders, but they had abandoned their efforts within a generation. So far as he knew, no one had lived within the village in over twenty years.

It had not been that long ago when Gudeta had been here. Only a short time after his gempukku, he and his true love had often met here to be with one another. She was a Doji, and lived to the north. Oni Mura was a convenient meeting place an equal distance from both their homes, and one where they would not be disturbed. The week before she was to marry another, they had met for the last time. She had begged him to flee with her, to run away so that they might be with one another rather than obey their duties, but he refused. He was a simple soldier, and stood to lose little, but her family was wealthy and influential. Their act of selfishness would have ruined dozens of Crane, and Gudeta could not do that. “Remember,” he had told her as he wiped a tear from her cheek. “Remember me.” It was the last time he had seen her. She had succumbed to a fever a few years later, leaving a grieving husband and infant daughter behind.

Gudeta shook his head. Ghosts of the past would not help him now, and he had buried that particular memory very deeply to avoid the pain it brought him. Now was not the time to relive it. He looked around the village intently. Once, it had seemed frightening. Later, it had become exciting and thrilling. Now, it was only empty and sad. It was a monument to pain and failure. For the first time, he wondered why the village was left standing. Why had he come here? Because he had confused some vague memory with a demented dream? He was a fool.

Something stirred in the shadows. The Crane warrior moved in a flash, drawing and nocking an arrow with incredible speed and crouching behind a partially collapsed wall. “Identify yourself,” he commanded.

“You know me, Crane,” a deep, sorrowful voice came from the shadows. “Or you remember me, at least. I asked you to do that much, and you have. I am grateful.”

“Identify yourself,” Gudeta repeated. “Step forward.”

A man clad in battered, stained robes stepped forward from the shadows, the shadow from his jingasa obscuring his face… except for his eyes. The same eyes from Gudeta’s dream. “I am but a lost soul, Daidoji Gudeta. A soul forever corrupted, but perhaps not one without honor.”

Gudeta pointed his arrow in the direction of the stranger’s head. “You bear the Taint.” It was not a question.

“The Taint, yes,” the stranger said. “I have fallen to darkness, far farther than I ever dreamed I could. But I have not given up hope, Gudeta-san. I have never abandoned hope.”

“Who are you?” Gudeta said, his voice softer. He lowered his bow. “What happened to me? Why did you help me?”

“You are an honorable man. I helped you because… because I could. Because I needed to remind myself of who and what I once was. And of what my father was.”

The Crane held up his arm, examining the scars in the last light of the evening sun. “Why didn’t I die? Why don’t I have the Taint?”

The stranger pulled something from the folds of his cloak. It was hard to make out, but it appeared to be a small pouch. “Jade powder. I carry a small amount whenever I can find it. I rubbed it into your wounds to protect you against corruption.”

Gudeta stared at the man incredulously. “Jade powder? Wouldn’t that cause you great pain?”

“Incredible pain, yes,” the man admitted. “It gives me focus. It helps me remember.”

“Remember what?”

“That I was once a man like you,” the stranger said in a solemn voice. “Or at least that I could have been.”

Several moments of silence passed between the men. “I do not know you,” Gudeta finally said, “but I feel that I owe you my life.” He glanced around at the village. “Why did you summon me here?”

“I saw the memory of this place in your mind,” the stranger said. “I knew that eventually I would need an ally, and I presumed that we could meet in this place without interruption. Forgive me for delving into your mind,” he offered a short bow. “I would not have done so if it was not important.”

Gudeta scowled. “You had no right.”

“No,” the stranger corrected, “I had no choice.”

“Enough riddles,” the warrior said in disgust. “What do you want? Why have you summoned me?”

“As I said, I have need of an ally. There is much work to be done, but I cannot do it alone.”

The Crane warrior’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

The stranger spoke, and Gudeta listened. For nearly an hour, he heard tales of horror the likes of which he had never imagined, not even in the most feverish children’s nightmares. And yet, within the tales there was a spark of hope. Of honor.

Finally, Gudeta nodded. “I will do what I can. I owe you my life.”

The stranger smiled. “I can ask no more of you, friend.”

* * * * *

Daidoji Rekai marched through the hallways, her face a mask of intense concentration. Behind her, a half dozen of her finest guards, all heavily armed and armored, formed a circle around two men. One bore Crane colors. The other was covered head to toe in thick, stained robes. Neither man bore a weapon, but the guards were obviously regarding them with a mix of caution and hostility.

The hallway ended in two large doors, both exquisitely crafted with a variety of strange astrological symbols Rekai did not understand and was not interested in. A lone man clad in fine robes stood at the doors, regarding the approaching party with distaste. As they drew near, he stepped forward and bowed. “Greetings, illustrious Daidoji Rekai-sama. We are greatly honored to have you as a guest at Shinden Asahina, but I must insist that your men put away their weapons. We do not condone such things within our walls.”

Rekai looked at the man in surprise. “You’re a bold one,” she said flatly. “I was given to understand that your new lord was considerably more relaxed with regard to weaponry.”

The man frowned. “That may be so, my lady, but…”

“If you have these men put their blades away,” Rekai interrupted, gesturing to the guards, “the you place your entire family and their estate at great risk. I somehow think Asahina Sekawa would be less than pleased with your adherence to tradition in the face of unusual circumstances.”

“What circumstances might those be, Rekai-sama?”

The Daidoji daimyo took a step forward. “You presume too much, priest. Stand aside.”

“Forgive me, Rekai-sama, but I am…”

“Stand. Aside,” Rekai glowered. “Now.”

The shugenja finally relented in the face of Rekai’s fierce glare, stepping back and allowing the party to pass. Rekai swept the doors open and strode through quickly, gesturing for the rear guards to close the doors behind them.

A young man with long white hair and a scar marring his handsome features looked up from the writing desk placed on a dais in the room’s center, his expression inquisitive. “Rekai-sama,” he said with a smile. “What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Rekai hesitated for a moment. She had never been able to read Asahina Sekawa very well. The traumatic events leading to his appointment as Jade Champion had scarred him deeply, and his true thoughts were always a mystery, even to one as skilled at evaluating others as she was. But that was ultimately unimportant to the nature of her visit today. “Forgive the suddenness of my arrival, Sekawa-sama,” she finally said. “I feared that sending word would betray the delicate nature of my mission.” She looked at him expectantly. Seeing his nod, she continued. “Eight days ago, one of my young officers deserted his post in the middle of the night. I was furious, of course, and ordered the matter dealt with. Two days ago, he returned, accompanied by another man. I was prepared to order his seppuku, but the information he has brought me has stayed my hand. I trust you shall see why.” She turned to the two men and gestured for them to step forward.

Daidoji Gudeta stepped forward and knelt before Sekawa. “My lord, to understand what we must tell you, I first must relay the events that befell me in the Shadowlands.” The Champion frowned at the mention of the Shadowlands, but did not interrupt. “When Rekai-sama traveled to Shiro Hiruma to aid our Crab allies, I was sent to deliver a message to Kurohito. I did so, then was given leave to catch up to Rekai-sama’s army, which I did.” He paused for a moment. “Only recently did I discover that I was injured in the Shadowlands, and that I lost an entire day of which I have no memory. I feared that I was Tainted or mad, but neither has thus far proven to be true.”

“He speaks truly, Sekawa-sama,” Rekai interjected. “We have been unable to discover any malady or trace of corruption.”

“My magistrates will confirm your findings,” the Champion said. His tone left little room for objection.

“I recently met the man who saved my life and protected me from the Taint,” Gudeta continued. “He sent me messages through dreams, and I had little choice but to find and speak with him near Oni Mura.” Sekawa turned and nodded to an attendant, who immediately left the room. Gudeta knew Jade Magistrates would be searching Oni Mura within hours. “The man’s name is Katsu. He is the son of Shiba Katsuda, a hero of the Clan War, and Soshi Jomyako, the Dark Oracle of Air.”

“A Dark Oracle,” Sekawa said, his mouth pursed. “Your solider keeps strange company, Rekai.” He turned back to Gudeta. “What did this Katsu want?”

“The Crane’s assistance,” the bushi answered. “He retains his self-control, and his honor. His heritage and abilities allow him to move through the Shadowlands unquestioned. He claims that there are others like him, others who retain a hint of their former identity and honor. Others who wish to escape that dark realm.”

“Escape the Shadowlands?” Sekawa said. “Ludicrous. There can be no escape from that place, and none can resist its seductive power.”

Gudeta looked up and met Sekawa’s eyes. “Your uncle did, Sekawa-sama.”

The Jade Champion grew quiet. “He did, yes,” he admitted. He was quiet for a few moments. “Why do you believe this Katsu, Gudeta?”

“He saved my life when there was no need to do so,” the bushi answered. “I could easily have been killed before I met the Daidoji armies, in the fighting, or in the escape. There was no way for him to know that I would survive, and thus no reason to use me as a pawn. If he wanted someone to use for deception, he could have found a thousand easier targets.” He shook his head. “No, he saved my life, and he did so for honor’s sake. I cannot abandon a debt such as that.”

“Why the Crane Clan?” Sekawa asked. “Why not the Crab?”

Gudeta shook his head. “I do not know. I suspect that you are one reason, my lord. Katsu seems eager to provide information on the Shadowlands to the Empire, and who better to receive such information than the Jade Champion? And who else would even consider such an offer? Only the Crane. The others are too intolerant, too deceitful, or too arrogant.”

Sekawa reclined, rubbing his chin in thought. “And you truly believe this man is genuine?”

“I believe that he is trapped. His honor will not allow him to abandon others who need his help, yet he is unable to help them so long as he remains in the Shadowlands. I believe that he truly wishes to aid the Empire without abandoning his oath of loyalty to Daigotsu, even though that oath was given under duress.” Gudeta paused and looked down at the floor. “I have been among heroes my entire life, Sekawa-sama. And yet I have rarely met a man with as much strength and honor as this Tainted ronin. If he is willing to sacrifice so much, how can we refuse to help him purely out of fear? I could not call myself Crane if I did not offer my aid.”

“Well spoken,” Sekawa said softly. “I feel certain there is enormous risk in this undertaking, yet I cannot abandon an opportunity to study our enemies so closely. I will help this Katsu.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Gudeta nodded. “Katsu has sent the first of his lost souls to us. I have brought him before you for judgment.” The cloaked figure stepped forward. Gudeta nodded, and he lowered the hood of his cloak for the first time since entering Shinden Asahina.

The face beneath was aged, with cracks like those that could be found on the hard, sun-baked earth criss-crossing his bald head. The man’s eyes were solid black, but there was a strange tranquility about him that belied his terrible appearance. “I thank you for your hospitality, my lord,” he said softly. “I will serve you in whatever capacity you choose, even if that is death.”

“That remains to be seen,” Sekawa said. “Who are you?”

“I was once called Komaro, my lord,” the man answered. “I was once a student of the Tao, and with your leave I shall be again. I will tell you everything I know of the Shadowlands, for I lived among the corrupted there for decades following the Battle at Oblivion’s Gate.”

“I will have quarters built for you beyond the borders of Shinden Asahina,” Sekawa said. “You will be under the constant supervision of my Jade Magistrates. If there is even the slightest hint of deception on your part, any sign that your desire for atonement is false, you will be destroyed without hesitation. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Komaro said. “Thank you, my lord. It… it is like awaking from a nightmare.”

“Come,” Sekawa said, rising from the dais. “There is much I would know of Daigotsu and his forces.”

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