Ruins of Shiro Ichiro, Badger Lands

The Badger samurai lay in a pool of blood, his body twisted and broken in ways that the mind could barely comprehend. The other Ichiro guards looked away in shame, not for their fallen brother but for their own inability to protect one another. In the short time he had been here, Asako Soun had seen the burden of guilt and shame that every Badger carried. It was terrible to see samurai so broken, but he knew they would not yield. They would help him find the one he sought, and that made their plight all the more tragic. Honorable men should not suffer such burdens. “I am sorry for the loss of your brother,” he said to the men, “but we must burn the body, and there is little time.”

The gunso nodded, his jaw clenched in fury or anguish, Soun could not tell which. The inquisitor whispered a brief prayer and the body burst into brilliant white flame that burned only for a moment, reducing the body to a fine ash that quickly scattered with the mountain breeze. “How many now?” he asked.

“Five,” the gunso answered. “Three when she went berserk in court, two since then.”

Soun winced. He had been stationed in the Unicorn lands, a dismal post that he suspected was punishment for his temerity in appearing at the Battle of Gisei Toshi. He had fought well for the Phoenix, but the Isawa did not forgive the offenses of an Asako lightly. He had been among the first outside the Badger lands to hear that one of his clan, Isawa Jumon, had succumbed to madness and murdered several Badger in court. She was a Bloodspeaker.

A whisper of tiny stones falling reached Soun’s ears. The Ichiro reacted instantly, well attuned to the sounds of life in the mountains. The inquisitor reacted only a moment slower, and his delayed reaction saved his life.

Isawa Jumon stood on a precipice overlooking the chasm where they stood. Her face was a mask of fury and madness. Soun knew in an instant that she had laid a trap for them, leaving the body where they would see it and descend to investigate. He cursed his foolishness and felt a wave of unease that he had so badly underestimated his prey. She unleashed a wave of thick, filthy air that tore at the flesh and armor of two Ichiro that had leapt directly into her path. They screamed, and Soun could hear their flesh tearing. The gunso fired an arrow in a fluid movement that was difficult for the eye to follow, and Soun heard Jumon shriek in pain. He summoned the energy for a spell, one that would destroy the Bloodspeaker, but he saw her marshalling her energy and unleashing it at the gunso.

In the span of a heartbeat, Soun was forced to make a decision. Jumon had hurt the Ichiro, and the Phoenix were to blame. He and the others had been chasing her desperately, trying to catch her before she fled into the northern mountains, as her course seemed to indicate. If she was not stopped now, she would escape, and the Phoenix would be shamed by her escape. And yet, could Soun allow the gunso to die? He was an inquisitor, but he was first and foremost a Phoenix, and all life was precious to the Phoenix. The choice was simple: life, or death.

Soun chose life. He redirected his spell to intercept Jumon’s, and the resultant clash of energies was like a flash of lightning in the tiny, enclosed space. Soun rubbed at his eyes and prepared another spell, but by the time his vision cleared, Jumon was gone. Just as he had known she would be.

Turning to the wounded Ichiro guards, Soun saw gratitude in the gunso’s eyes. That would have to be enough. With a prayer to Jurojin, Soun withdrew some herbs from his pouch and moved to the wounded guards Jumon had punished with her magic. Perhaps there were more lives to be saved.