Part Three of Four
by Rich Wulf

The Imperial Palace, Toshi Ranbo, Weeks Ago…

The samurai frowned, his weathered face creased in an expression of patient discontent. His face was rough with stubble though he did not seem to care. He wore a plain kimono, much at odds with the brilliant suit of exquisite red armor standing on display at the rear of his chamber. His dark eyes focused intently on the banner that hung upon the wall. It was a simple thing, just a scrap of cloth painted in a clumsy hand. It bore the symbol of a wolf, drawn in black ink. Beneath it was a single line of characters.

They read: “For the Empire.”

He recognized it from the stories he had been told all his life. It was the first banner carried by Toturi’s Army. Decades ago, his father had gathered an army of outcast ronin and, with their aid, had saved Rokugan from a mad god.

“How do you know it is real?” Kaneka asked in a gravelly voice. “Such a simple thing could be easily faked.”

“My first thought as well,” the old man said softly. “But look in the top corner; observe that small mark. That is the personal chop of Otomo Yayu, an idealistic young scholar who left his family and fortune behind to fight at Toturi’s side. He was the one who painted the first banner, before your father even realized that the band of displaced wave-men who had gathered to follow his example had in fact become an army.”

“An Otomo, following my father?” Kaneka asked, looking back in surprise. “I have never heard of such a thing.”

“Few of the tales remember Yayu,” the old man chuckled. “Most remember only Dairya, or Toku, or Ginawa. Yayu was just an idealistic boy who dreamed to tell a tale of heroes. He never got his chance; he was too busy fighting by their side. He was an unexceptional hero, though he always fought with great spirit. Yayu died at Oblivion’s Gate, shouting your father’s name as the legions of the Lying Darkness overwhelmed him.”

Kaneka reached out, one callused hand touching the edge of the tattered silken banner. “How did you come to give this to me?” he asked.

“A Tsuruchi hunter discovered it in a cave while pursuing some bandits through the ruins of Beiden,” Komori answered. “Seeing your father’s symbol, he suspected it might be significant. It was not until Kamoto saw it that it was recognized. I offer it to you now on behalf of my friends in the Mantis Clan.”

“That is not what I meant to ask,” Kaneka said. He turned to look at the old Bat Clan daimyo. Komori knelt in the corner, huddled in his inky black robes. “How did you come to give this to me… and not my brother? I would think after the accolades the Emperor has given you that you would be quick to repay his favor.”

“Perhaps this is my way to do so,” Komori answered. “If one bond truly unifies the Emperor and Shogun it is the example that your father set. Perhaps I hoped that by giving you this banner that you would always remember what is truly best for the Empire… as your father did.”

“Careful, Lord Komori,” Kaneka replied. “I might think you meant to imply I need help to remember my loyalties.”

“Hear what you will,” Komori said with a laugh. “I would hope the mighty Shogun does easily take offense at a simple old man’s musings, or is afraid that a flag will insult his honor.”

Kaneka’s eyes narrowed. “Simple old man?” he replied dubiously. “Of course. I thank you for your gift, Komori-san.”

“Oh, while I approve of its delivery I am merely the bearer,” he replied. “I offer you the banner on behalf of the Daughter of Storms. It is her gift, but it is not all she offers.”

“Kumiko?” Kaneka asked, a note of intrigue in his voice. “Why does she not offer it herself?”

Komori chuckled. “For all your bravery, for all your cunning, you do not truly realize how dangerous the capital has become, do you?” he asked.

Kaneka’s expression darkened.

“Kumiko’s bounty hunters have been watching your agents,” Komori said. “She knows you seek the true masters of the Gozoku. As she does.”

“Your words are dangerous, Komori,” Kaneka said.

“Do you fear that Seppun Toshiaki spies upon us?” Komori asked. “I can assure you that he does, my lord, and that all he sees is an old man enjoying tea with the Shogun.” Komori smiled, and the air rippled. An instant later, he was sitting in the opposite corner of the room. The image Kaneka had been speaking to faded – nothing more than an illusion. “Toshiaki is not the only one who can control what others see, my lord. Kumiko sent me because she knew I could speak with you safely.”

“Explain what you want,” Kaneka demanded.

“Do you remember Bayushi Kamnan?” Komori asked.

“Yes,” Kaneka said. “A Scorpion assassin. He murdered the previous lord of the Mantis Clan before my eyes.”

“Then you also know that my clan…” he paused with a small smile. “My former clan hunted Kamnan for years. It was not until relatively recently that a man stepped forward with information that promised to eventually lead to Kamnan’s location. But this information had a price. Kumiko was to join the Gozoku alliance, and add her resources to theirs. When the time was right, the Mantis would step forward and help him destroy both Kamnan and his master Atsuki, purging the Gozoku of their dark influence. I think he believed that Kumiko possessed the proper combination of pragmatism, ambition, and honor to see the job done. As fortune would have it, we arrived on Kamnan’s location through the aid of other allies, but Kumiko still believes that hunting Kamnan’s master is a worthy goal. She believes, given your recent activities, that the rogue gozoku who approached her has likely approached you as well. She believes this man has offered you similar incentives to cleanse his organization of its unholy origins.”

Kaneka said nothing, only glared at the old man in silent suspicion.

“Lady Kumiko hopes you will give Kakita Munemori-san her regards next time you meet,” Komori added.

“And how do I know that Kumiko isn’t working with Bayushi Atsuki?” Kaneka ventured. “How do I know that this offer wasn’t inspired simply out of fear that she will be punished for her affiliation when the time comes for me to mete out justice?”

“Because you will not find Atsuki without her aid,” Komori replied. “Surely you realize that the fires in Toshi Ranbo were no accident. That arson was a tool of the Gozoku, intended to kill your brother and his court so that Atsuki’s agents could fill the political void. It was pure happenstance that the plan was foiled, and Kumiko knows who set the fire.”

“Cornejo,” Kaneka answered.

“You know the name,” Komori said, showing mild surprise, “but do you know what that name means?”

“Other than that it is the name of a gaijin mercenary who died in the War Against the Darkness?” Kaneka asked.

“You are wrong, Kaneka,” Komori said. “Alhundro Cornejo never died.”

Esteban Cornejo crawled to his knees, the thunder of the exploding hideout still ringing in his ears. He stared up in horror at what had been his kinsman. Alhundro Cornejo’s face was smooth and featureless. Esteban thought he could see the roaring fire shine through his wraithlike form.

“Kharsis, what’s happened to you, Alhundro?” Esteban asked in horror.

“Stop saying that name,” the faceless man said tonelessly. He held his hands out to his sides, fingers extending into savage black claws. “It pains me to hear it.”

“Cornejo, run!” shouted a voice. A flash of blue leapt over him as Daidoji Takihiro charged Alhundro with sword held high. The blade sliced cleanly through the faceless wraith’s body, leaving no more damage than it would to a plume of smoke. Alhundro moved with terrible speed, seizing Takihiro’s throat with one hand and driving the Harrier into the ground.

Esteban did not wait any longer. He scrambled to his feet and ran, ignoring the sounds of heavy fists driving into solid metal. The Daidoji did not even scream. Esteban whispered a short prayer for the man, though he knew Takihiro would care little for the favor of his foreign gods. At the very least he would see that the Crane’s sacrifice was not in vain. Esteban was a swift runner; such a talent was quite useful for a man who planted explosives by trade.

Yet when he looked up at the path ahead he saw Alhundro already standing before him, blood dripping from blackened claws.

“Alhundro,” Esteban whispered. “Resist whatever evil has possessed you. Old Calixto sent me to bring you home.”
The eggshell wavered, replaced for a single instant by the face Esteban saw before. “Grandfather?” he said in a child’s voice. Then the moment was past, and Alhundro’s features vanished again. He hunched like a beast, a low animal growl rising from deep within. Esteban looked around desperately for any avenue of escape, but on the barren plains there was nothing. He glanced back at the burning bandit hideout. To his surprise he saw a tall, hooded figure approaching on a massive black stallion. The stranger held a long staff in one hand, capped on either end by a hooked crystal blade. Daidoji Takihiro’s body lay slumped over the back of the saddle.

“Hold thy hand, Nothing,” the newcomer said in a mellow voice. “This one is of interest.”

Alhundro immediately complied, scuttling away from Esteban and vanishing into the shadows. The tall figure pushed back his hood, revealing a pale face lined with complex tattoos. His eyes were depthless black orbs. His lips were painted the same color. He looked down at Esteban with a detached, merciless gaze. “A Merenae,” he said. “So far from home. What is thy name, child?”
Esteban said nothing, or at least tried to. He felt a subtle pressure upon his mind, and his lips spoke the words against his will.

“My name is Esteban Cornejo,” he said.
The man’s smile deepened, as if satisfied by his submission. “And what brought thee here?”

 “I was sent by my great grandfather,” his voice replied without his command. “In his dreams, he saw his grandson Alhundro chained in the darkness. I was sent to save him, to stop the destruction of Rokuan.”

“Dreams?” the strange man replied, sighing deeply. “I should have suspected as much. Even asleep, we cannot act without their interference. How very desperate they must be, how weak they have become, to seek help from one such as thee. Their time is truly past, and yet they continue to deny fate.”

Esteban’s face burned red with anger, shame, and humiliation. He tried to force himself to charge the strange man, to at least push him off his horse before the crystal blades ended his life. His feet would not obey.

“Calm thyself, child,” the man said. “Your life is short enough without wasting spirit with fruitless struggle. I have but one more question, and then sleep shall come. Who besides this one accompanied thee?” The man gestured at the wounded Crane draped over his horse.

Esteban thought of Kikaze and Tani. He did not even know if they were alive, but he could not betray them to this creature. He struggled to keep his lips from forming the reply, but felt them move beyond his control.

The darkness rippled in the corner of his vision, and when Esteban spoke, the voice was not his own.

“No others. We came alone.”

“Very good,” the stranger replied, and darkness fell over Esteban Cornejo’s vision.

In the shadows of a large boulder, Daidoji Kikaze lowered his bow and gritted his teeth. He watched as the tall, pale rider climbed from his saddle and calmly loaded Esteban’s limp form onto his horse before leading the steed away.

“That was a spawn of the Lying Darkness, Kikaze-sama,” Tani said, crouching beside him. Her bow was in her hand as well, knuckles white on its haft. “I thought they were no more.”

“I can’t say what I expected to find here,” Kikaze replied, sliding the arrow back into his quiver. “That wasn’t it.”

“Who was the other man?” she asked.

“It was no man,” Kikaze replied. “It was an Ashalan sorcerer, one of the immortals the Scorpion encountered during their exile decades ago.”

“How do we fight a shadow and an immortal?” Tani said, looking at him desperately.

“We follow,” Kikaze said as he rose. “We find a way.”

“What are you doing here?” both of them said at once.

Sunetra and Shono both fell silent, watching one another patiently, waiting for the other to reply.

“I’m supposed to be here, Sunetra,” Shono answered. “Protecting the Shinomen is the Unicorn Clan’s duty.”

“So family daimyo have taken to patrolling the forest? And the Shogun as well?” she asked. “Your clan certainly places a high priority on protecting ruins and trees.”

“The Khan has offered the Shogun his aid in hunting out any remaining Bloodspeaker cultists,” Shono said. “The ruins in this forest would offer welcome refuge to such blasphemers, and if they would threaten the Naga it falls to us to protect them.”

“Lying doesn’t suit you, Shono,” Sunetra replied. “You do it poorly. I thought you were Naseru’s ally. You stand with the Shogun now?”

“I serve the Emperor,” Shono answered. “Just as Kaneka does.”

“If you believe Kaneka has any true loyalty to Naseru, you’re a fool,” Sunetra said. “He serves only his own ambition.”

“Am I so foolish?” Shono asked blandly.

Sunetra frowned, studying the scruffy Unicorn cautiously. Like herself, Shono owed Toturi Naseru a great deal. He was one of the few men who in the Empire who could truly call the Righteous Emperor a friend, or so she had thought. Yet unlike others who Naseru held in his trust, Naseru’s friendship with Shono was not generally known. The truth, or a possibility of truth, slowly dawned upon her.

“He put you up to this,” Sunetra said. “He told you to get close to the Shogun, to monitor his actions.”
“I’m sure I have no idea who you’re talking about,” Shono answered blandly. “Just as I’m sure I have no idea why you are here.” He was silent for several moments. “But if you are here seeking the Naga, I would advise against trespassing further.”

“Why?” Sunetra asked, an edge of threat in her voice.

“The Naga are extremely fearful of outsiders, Sunetra,” Shono said. “The last time they awoke to fight the Dark God it took them years to even dare make contact with humans. Even then, some of them never fully came to trust us. The Naga sleep again, and their cities are protected by their ancient magic. I wouldn’t dare venture too deep into their territory without a proper guide. I don’t think even you could evade their protections for long.”

“The Shogun obviously does not share your caution,” Sunetra said.

“The Shogun has a guide,” Shono answered. “Don’t worry, Sunetra. I’m confident that Kaneka has nothing but the Empire’s best interests in mind.”

“So confident that you would share what he learns with the Emperor’s messenger?” Sunetra ventured.

Shono grinned. “I don’t see why that would be a problem,” he answered. “On one condition, however.”

“Remember your loyalties, Unicorn,” Sunetra warned.

“I remember my promises,” Shono answered. “Agree to my terms or wander the Shinomen on your own.”

“What are your terms?” she asked.

“That you promise you will not harm Kaneka,” he said.

Sunetra scowled. “I cannot promise you that,” she said. “He is Naseru’s enemy.”

“So Naseru believes,” Shono said. “I know the Emperor and I know the Shogun. Both very powerful, very honorable, and very arrogant.”

Sunetra opened her mouth to retort and Shono stopped to hear what she had to say, but she could offer nothing in rebuttal.

“I don’t really care why they hate each other, Sunetra,” he continued, “but I think in this case, fighting is pointless. Both of them are seeking the same enemy. If you killed Kaneka – and I know you must have considered it – it will only help Naseru’s enemies.”

She looked at him for a long time, her cold blue eyes quietly gauging his worth. He looked back at her with a calm, easy grin.

“Trust me, Sunetra,” he said.

“That is a great deal to ask.”

“I think I’ve earned it.”

“I’m not so sure,” she said. “But I agree. No harm will come to Kaneka by my hand until he poses a threat to the Emperor, so long as your information has value.”

“That’s all I ask,” Shono said. “I’ll find you and share everything I learn from the Naga.”

Sunetra laughed. “I’ll find you, Unicorn,” she answered, turning to recede into the green darkness.

“Sunetra,” he called out.

She peered back, her white painted face gleaming in the Shinomen’s green radiance.

“How could you give up everything that you had just to be Naseru’s spy again?” he asked. “Did he order you to do it?”

“It was my choice,” she said.

“Do you regret giving up your clan?” he asked.

“Do you?” she asked back.

“Leading the Unicorn was never a choice for me,” he said.

Sunetra smiled. “I have seen the way you fight, Shinjo Shono,” he said. “I have seen the way you lead. The Unicorn Clan could be yours any time you wished. You surrendered your right to rule your clan as surely as I did.”

“My loyalty is to the Khan,” he said immediately, but his voice was no longer so certain. Shono looked away, his hollow gaze focusing on nothing. His crystal eye shone brightly.

Sunetra said nothing more. She disappeared into the shadows, leaving the Unicorn alone with his thoughts.

The next few days passed in a haze of pain and darkness. Esteban sensed the waking world only dimly; the rest was nightmare. He saw pale, painted faces sneering down at him in mockery. He saw Alhundro screaming in torment, huddled in shadow, formless claws tearing him apart like ragged cloth. He saw fire rise up from the heart of Toshi Ranbo to burn the Empire. He saw a torch in his own hand, only to see its light extinguished by a sinuous black form. At last, the pain receded and some hint of reason returned. He opened his eyes and awoke to find himself lying on a wooden table in a dank stone chamber.

Two figures looked down at him, one on either side of the table. One wore a red silken kimono and an elaborate crimson mask. He stared at Cornejo, his sapphire eyes hard and calculating. The other was the strange robed figure who had found him on the Plains Above Evil. His face was lost in the shadows of his hood.

“Thou art helpless, Esteban Cornejo,” the hooded man said. “Thine wrists are bound with thick iron chains. Thine feet are encased in stone, until I release thee.”
Esteban looked down in horror. His limbs were free of all restraint but he felt a heavy weight upon them. He was unable to move.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “What do you want from me?”

“I am Rashol, of the Ashalan,” the hooded man said. “This is my ally, Bayushi Atsuki. We are pleased to make thine acquaintance, Esteban. Speak not except to answer our questions. Is that understood?”

Esteban felt himself nodding dumbly.

“The spell will keep him subdued for as long as required,” Rashol said, looking to the other man.

“Very good,” Atsuki said. “The Crane is my gift to you.”

“My thanks,” Rashol replied. He touched the tip of his hood with two fingers and left the chamber without a sound.

“Fascinating,” Atsuki said, still looking down with oddly detached curiosity. “So the Naga sent you here?”

“I do not know of any Naga,” Esteban replied mechanically.

“Not surprising,” Atsuki said, seating himself at the edge of Esteban’s table. He looked away without apparent concern. “A pawn serves best when he does not know he serves. It was only a matter of time before they sent someone. I only wonder why they sent a gaijin, of all possible champions. And not even a warrior, at that. Curious.” He peered over his shoulder at Esteban. “You may speak, gaijin, if you have some insight to offer.”

“Are you the one who controls Alhundro?” Esteban spat.

“I command that creature, yes,” Atsuki said. “I would not spend much energy worrying for him. He ceased to be Alhundro a long time ago. I had nothing to do with that, of course, though I most certainly took advantage of his condition.”

“You commanded the fires,” Esteban said. “You planned to murder your Emperor and all the people of Toshi Ranbo.”

Atsuki shook his head sadly. “Does that really matter? You know nothing of death, gaijin,” he said. “You have not seen it, as I have. The sacrifices of those people would have meant nothing. The worthy would have passed on to their just rewards. The unworthy would have burned as they deserve. What harm is there in accelerating the process if the result benefits the Empire? I have seen the world as it once was, gaijin. The world as it should be. The Ashalan share my vision, and together we will restore order. Rokugan is only the beginning. You arrived at an excellent time. Your kinsman’s memories of his past life were proving problematic. Now that you are here to provide your valuable expertise, we can allow him to release what remains of his memories, and become what he was meant to be.”

“I will not help you,” Esteban said.

“You will slowly become tired, Esteban Cornejo,” Atsuki said. “Then you will sleep. And you will have terrible nightmares, in which you feel your flesh torn from your bones. You will know that the pain can only be relieved by submitting yourself to my will. You will realize no other truth.”
Esteban felt a sudden drowsiness overcome him. His eyelids flickered. He struggled to keep them open, but resistance only caused his eyes to tear up painfully.

“The Ashalan have spent thousands of years bending the wills of lesser beings to their will,” Atsuki said with a laugh as he receded from the chamber. Darkness clouded Esteban’s vision. “You will do whatever we say, gaijin. You will help us.”

Before sleep overcame him, the clouds in his eyes moved and shifted, taking a serpentine form. Another voice spoke to him.

“He is wrong, Esteban,” it said. “You will help me.”

“You dare darken the sleeping halls of Iyotisha with these humans?” the jakla demanded in a raspy hiss. His hood flared. He glared at the Shogun with gleaming red eyes.

Shinjo Shono and Shiba Danjuro took several steps back as the creature loomed over them all. Kaneka did not move at all. He stood in the center of the cracked marble path and looked up at the Naga calmly. The creature was enormous. Even heaped upon his coils the Naga had to hunch low to make eye contact with the Shogun. Akasha had described Orumash as an astronomer; this was not what Kaneka had expected to see. If such a powerful creature was a mere scholar then it was no wonder the Naga civilization had endured for thousands of years before the Empire existed.

Only a handful of Naga such as this one remained awake to watch over their brethren, a lonely, thankless, eternal task. It was really no surprise that disturbing the astronomer’s vigil had provoked such a reaction. Even so, Kaneka found it very difficult to keep an even temper.

“The people of Rokugan have guarded your sleep for thirty years,” Kaneka said with exaggerated calm. “All I seek is your counsel. I would appreciate your cooperation.”

“Thirty years?” the Naga roared. “You think that grants us obligation to you? Can a creature such as you even grasp the concept of eternity? We endured in slumber for a thousand years without your protection. It is your honor to protect our cities! If you cannot comprehend that, you are not worthy of my time!”

Akasha stood beside the jakla. The Unicorn girl was slight by any standards, but she looked even smaller beside the enormous serpent. “Orumash, please,” she said. “Kaneka does not intend to offer offense. He needs the wisdom of our people.”

“Bah!” the Naga said, settling back upon his coils. “What possible problems could a human have that would require…” The Naga trailed off into silence, red eyes gleaming as he stared at Akasha. The stubby whiskers on his face twitched and something silent seemed to pass between the woman and the serpent.

“The Ashalan,” it said, its voice a sibilant whisper. “Perhaps you do require my aid.”

“What can you tell me about them?” Kaneka asked.

The Naga looked at Kaneka sharply. “The Ashalan are our enemies,” he said. “Not yours. Do not challenge them. You will be destroyed.”

“We do not challenge them,” Kaneka said, “They challenge us. They have allied with an enemy of our Empire.”

The Naga laughed. “Then they are fools, as they always have been,” he said. “They cannot harm you here under the light of the Bright Eye.”

“Who are they?” Kaneka asked.

“They are our ancient enemies,” Orumash said. “Our hatred for the Ashalan makes the rivalries between your clans seem petty in comparison.”
“What did they do to earn your hatred?” Kaneka asked.

“They are abominations,” Orumash said. “They seek to dominate all living creatures. They believe that lesser beings exist only to serve their whim. They believe that they created the world. They are feckless blasphemers.”

Kaneka privately wondered if the Naga found the Rokugani’s own beliefs blasphemy as well, but decided this was hardly the time to press matters of religion. 

“Are they a threat?” Kaneka asked.

“Not so long as you remain within the lands you now claim,” Orumash said.

“Why is that?” Kaneka asked.

“Our races once warred with one another,” Orumash answered. “So mighty was that conflict that it threatened to tear the universe apart. The Bright Eye intervened, and ended our war. She placed a curse upon the Ashalan for their arrogance, and blessed us for our courage. Now the Ashalan cannot dare enter Rokugan for long, nor can Naga venture too deeply into the Burning Sands. To do so risks madness for members of both races.”

“But I know of one Ashalan, Hojyn, who lives in the Empire,” Shono said. “He is no madman.”

“And by Ashalan standards, he is,” Orumash said. “He seeks to befriend and understand lesser beings. He views mortals as equals.” Orumash chuckled. “Madness.”

“You paint these beings as villains,” Kaneka said. “Yet the Scorpion claim the Ashalan are noble. During their exile, the Ashalan helped them.”

Orumash shrugged. “The Ashalan are a strange and manipulative people,” he said. “Who can say why they do anything? Perhaps the Bright Eye’s curse has granted them some measure of wisdom, and some have truly reformed. Perhaps aiding the Scorpion merely suited some darker purpose. It does not truly matter to me. For their offenses against my people they can never be forgiven.”

Kaneka frowned. The hatred in Orumash’s voice reminded him much of his Lion kinsmen when they spoke of the Crane Clan. Such hatred was rarely rational, but arguing it would only turn the Naga against him. That would serve no purpose.

“I am seeking a man named Bayushi Atsuki,” he pressed on. “He is a returned spirit as mad as the Steel Chrysanthemum ever was. Years ago he turned many members of the Scorpion Clan toward blood magic, used them for some unknown purpose, then cast them aside when that purpose had been met. He has allied himself with the Ashalan. Our enemies stand with yours, Orumash. Can you help me find them, or at least determine what they plan?”

The Naga’s face darkened. He looked down at the broken street. For a long time, he seemed to be listening to something. The girl, Akasha, had described the spiritual force that bound all Naga – the same communal spirit after which she had been named. Through their Akashic bonds, any Naga could draw upon the wisdom and guidance of his brethren. In a place such as this, with so many slumbering Naga, a skilled Jakla could draw upon the wisdom of his entire race.

“If the Ashalan stand with your enemies, they can have only one objective,” the Naga said in a heavy voice. “Whatever this Atsuki’s plans are, they are ultimately irrelevant to the Ashalan. They will gladly give him Rokugan, if that is his price, in return for the destruction of my people. With so many of us asleep, such conquest would be simple.”

“But what of the curse?” Kaneka asked.

“Curses can be broken, if one can find sufficient power,” the Naga said. “Think upon it, Shogun. Is there a power in your Empire that lies broken, defeated, and unused? At least one entity has proven that the Taint can be used to control the remnants of this power. This is a power that no mortals have mastered as expertly as the Scorpion Clan.”
“The Lying Darkness,” Danjuro said quietly.

“The Darkness was destroyed at Oblivion’s Gate,” Kaneka countered, though he was disturbed by how Danjuro’s conclusions hit so closely to Komori’s tale of Alhundro Cornejo’s fate. “Lady Hitomi named the Darkness. Its servants became the new Akodo family. They were wiped clean of all memory of their past misdeeds. There is no more Lying Darkness.”

“The power of Nothing cannot be destroyed, though it can be diminished,” Orumash said. “The Shadow Dragon’s existence has proven that the Darkness is not entirely gone. The Darkness is dead, but it struggles against its own demise; I have sensed it come near to restoring itself six times since its defeat. With the power of Nothing shackled to their will, the Ashalan could break the Bright Eye’s curse and enter Rokugan.”

“The Darkness almost destroyed the Empire before,” Kaneka said. “Would the Ashalan be foolish enough to believe they could control it?”

“Believe they can control it?” Orumash asked with a laugh. His red eyes flickered. “You scoff at the very heart of the Ashalan beliefs, Shogun. According to the Ashalan, the Darkness was the scalpel they used to fashion this world.”

“Can you help me find them?” Kaneka asked gravely.

“Perhaps,” the Naga said, “but I think I would only be sending you to die, mighty Shogun.”

The serpent looked at Kaneka silently for several moments. A slow smile twisted its reptilian features.

“My people say your stubborn courage reminds them of your father,” he said. “We will help you.”