Temple of the Shi-Tien Yen-Wang, the Moto provinces

Moto Tsusung ran his hands delicately across the flawless surface of the ruby, searching for any hint of its mysteries that might lie upon its surface. A hidden engraving, perhaps, or a crack that they might have missed previously. It was pointless, of course. He and others had examined the jewel a hundred times, perhaps a thousand. Still, he could not help himself. It was as though the thing had become a fixture in his thoughts, a constant presence from which he could not escape. He had an inkling as to what was hidden within it, but none as to how it might be freed.

The young woman standing to the side shook her head, never taking her eyes from it. “I do not understand how such magic is possible. I have read accounts of such things in distant lands, but to find something of this nature in the Shadowlands? And for it to bear no trace of corruption? It seems impossible.”

“There are far more things possible than we can imagine,” Tsusung said. “Our ignorance does not force the world to bend to our will.”

“Troubling words from my chief priest of death,” a booming voice said from the temple entrance. Moto Chagatai, Khan of the Unicorn, entered without preamble, stalking to the temple’s front where the two shugenja had been studying the gem with rapt attention. “The world can and does bend to one’s will, if it is but strong enough.”

“Of course, my lord,” Tsusung said with a low bow. “We are not all blessed to share in the boundless strength of our lord Khan, however.”

Chagatai smiled slightly, but it was a brief expression. He turned to the other shugenja and gave her an appraising look. “This is your student, then?” he asked.

“Yes, my lord,” the priest answered. “Horiuchi Rikako, previously an advisor of the Shogun.”

“I am honored,” Rikako said with a deep bow.

Chagatai stared at her for a moment, then back at Tsusung. “Is her loyalty sufficient to be entrusted with a matter of this importance?” he asked bluntly.

“Yes,” Tsusung said instantly.

“My former lord, Kaneka, bid me serve you as I would him,” Rikako said to the Khan. “I mean to honor that command without reservation.”

“See that you do,” he said. “What news of this ruby?”

Tsusung grimaced. “I am afraid we have made little headway. Rikako is skilled in artifice, but as yet we have no inkling as to how to free the spirit trapped within it.”

“And you are certain this spirit is not malevolent?”

“I cannot be certain, my Khan,” Tsusung admitted. “I can say that it is not corrupted. Whatever is within this ruby is not of the Shadowlands, and I sense some essence of Iuchi magic within it as well.”

Chagatai nodded. “Then continue, but remember that my patience is not infinite. There are other matters that could benefit from your attention, and in time I will no longer tolerate the squandering of resources on what appears to be an unsolvable puzzle.”

“Of course, Chagatai-sama,” Tsusung bowed. He hesitated for a moment, then continued. “Has there been news from the emissary to the Scorpion?”

“There has,” Chagatai confirmed. “Paneki has accepted our offer, as I knew he would. Our ambassador should be arriving at the Dragon court by the week’s end as well. I expect much the same from Satsu. He cares too much for the lives of those who serve him to refuse.”

“Allies to the north and to the south,” Rikako observed. “That would leave only the Lion, and then with no allies to call upon in the event that there should be… unpleasantness.”

Chagatai favored her with a tolerant smiled. “Do not overstep your bounds, girl. But yes, when the Lion are punished for their temerity, there will be no allies to complicate the affair unnecessarily.”

“Save for the Crane, of course,” she added. “But then, when battle lines are drawn, they are rarely worthy allies.”

This time Chagatai’s smile was genuine. “I approve of your student, Tsusung. Let us hope she can aid you in your enigma.”

Tsusung began to respond, but a sudden clamor outside the temple cut him off. Chagatai whirled and headed toward the door, his face a mask of irritation. As in the past, the mere presence of the Khan’s anger was enough to chill Tsusung’s blood. He offered a brief prayer that those who had disturbed them, so close to the Khan’s palace, had good reason for doing so, less the Lords of Death heap their blessings upon them.

Chagatai stormed through the temple doorway, his hands clenched into fists as he surveyed the area in search of the disturbance. A young Shinjo scout rode up and bowed quickly from the saddle. “My lord Khan!” he exclaimed. “It is Chen-sama! He has returned from the Shadowlands!”

The Khan’s expression changed from one of anger instantly. Tsusung could see him assessing the news and contemplating possible outcomes. “How many ride with him?” he demanded.

“Very few,” the scout said morosely. “They are at the great stable, tending to their steeds.”

Chagatai said nothing else, but walked directly toward the vast stable that was adjoined to Shiro Moto. It was a short distance away, but by the time he arrived, Tsusung was breathing heavily from the effort of keeping up with the Khan’s determined march. “Chen!” he bellowed. “Report!”

A lone warrior emerged from the ranks, his armor battered and torn apart in several places. He held a strange bundle. “My Khan,” he said, dropping to one knee. “I bring dire news. The Emperor has fallen.”

The air around the Khan seemed to grow cooler. “Naseru is dead?” he asked quietly.

Chen nodded. “He fell in battle, as a warrior should. He saved us all from death.”

“Why?” the Khan demanded. “Why would he do such a thing? He was no warrior. He was a courtier. A politician.” He seemed almost angry.

“He chose to die so that the rest of us could live. He chose to die so that we could bring the legacy of the Seven Thunders back to the Empire.” Chen held the bundle out to Chagatai. “In his name, I offer you this.”

Chagatai took the bundle and handed it to Tsusung without looking at it. “Were you there?” he asked Chen. “Were you there when he died?”

Chen shook his head. “I was not. I obeyed his orders and left the battle before it was finished. I believe Shinjo Turong witnessed the end, or very nearly so.”

“Was there anyone who spoke to him before he died?” Chagatai pressed. “Did he say anything?”

Chen frowned. “I do not know, my lord. Not that I am aware of, no.”

“Contact our representatives in Toshi Ranbo,” Chagatai said at once, turning to Tsusung. “I want to know what happens when word reaches the city, if it has not already. I want to know what is said regarding the line of succession.”

Tsusung grimaced. “It will be difficult to send a message that far,” he admitted. “The strain on any shugenja sending a message such distance will…”

“I did not ask if it could be done,” Chagatai said quietly. “I commanded it be done.”

Tsusung bowed at once. “Of course, my Khan. I will see it done at once.”

Chagatai nodded. Almost as an afterthought, he glanced down at the package. “What is that?” he asked.

“I hardly looked,” Chen admitted. “I took what was closest and rode for the horizon.”

Chagatai nodded to the shugenja, and Tsusung carefully unwrapped the package. He frowned at its contents, a small model of a kobune, no bigger than a child’s toy, seemingly crafted from jade and carved with a number of symbols he did not recognize. He reached out and touched it lightly, then drew back his hand with a gasp. His vision wavered for just a moment. Behind him, he heard Rikako yelp slightly as she nearly fell against the wall of the stable.

“Tsusung,” Chagatai said sternly. “What is it?”

“This thing… this kobune,” Tsusung said, “it has the essence of Tengoku upon it.”

“What?” Chen said incredulously. “How can you know that?”

“The kami,” Rikako said. “They are the children of Heaven, in a sense. Speaking with them, interacting with them, give a shugenja the faintest hint of what it is like to touch the heavens. This… it is like a thousand kami converging at once. It is almost overwhelming.”

“What is it?” Chagatai insisted.

“I have never seen or felt anything like this,” Tsusung admitted. “I do not know, my lord.” He turned to his student. “Rikako?”

She shook her head, then leaned in closer. “I have never heard of such… wait.” She reached out and touched the kobune with one finger, shuddering as she did so. “I believe I recognize this symbol. Yes. Yes! I saw it as a child, when I studied at the library in Shinden Horiuchi?”

“And?” Chagatai hissed through clenched teeth.

“This symbol is used to denote the Fortune Suitengu, Fortune of the Sea,” she explained excitedly. “Legends say that he traveled from Tengoku to Ningen-do in a heavenly kobune, and that his comings and goings caused the great storms for which he is feared.” She shook her head. “I never imagined such things could be more than simply myths. Traveling to the spirit realms is supposedly impossible.”

Chen glanced at the Khan. “Perhaps not,” he muttered.

“This?” Chagatai said, chuckling. “You wish me to believe this toy is the vessel of a Fortune?”

“No,” she answered, “but I believe it may be a fragment. There is a myth that Suitengu once battled a great water demon, an oni from the Sea of Shadows, and that the demon was powerful enough to crack the hull of his ship before it was destroyed. They say that Suitengu is so wrathful because mankind failed to protect his domain from the corruption of the Shadowlands.”

“This is a farce,” Chagatai spat. “Tsusung, do you believe any of this nonsense?”

Tsusung shook his head. “I do not know these legends,” he admitted, “but I trust Rikako’s knowledge of such things, and I cannot deny the power this object holds. It dwarfs anything I have ever held in my hands.”

“Then take it,” the Khan said, waving his hand. “Place it with your ruby, if you wish. If you can determine how it can be of use to me, then inform me at once. In the meantime, I have more pressing matters.” He turned and clapped Chen on the shoulder. “I am glad to see you returned safely, old friend. Come and dine with me. I would hear more of the battle, and of the Emperor’s death.”

Rikako watched the two warriors head toward the palace. “He does not understand,” she whispered. “The power this object holds… it is enormous!”

Tsusung shook his head. “You misunderstand. If there is one thing that Chagatai-sama understands perfectly, it is power. He will find a way to use it to his advantage and when he does,” his voice trailed off as he looked down at the kobune. “The Lords of Death will approve,” he finished.

Shiro Kitsuki, the foothills of the Dragon Mountains

Mirumoto Mareshi pulled his helmet off with a sigh of relief, running a hand through his sweat-streaked hair. There had been little time for amenities such as baths for some time, and he had done little more than take a quick dip in a mountain stream for weeks. He felt wretched, and imagined that his very presence in the halls of Shiro Kitsuki were an offense to all who had walked these corridors over the years. Still, it was not as if he had a choice at the moment.

“Mareshi-san.” The woman awaiting him at the chamber doors smiled and bowed respectfully. “It is good to see you are well.”

“Thank you, Iweko-sama,” he replied, bowing lower. “I am not altogether certain that I look well, however.”

Iweko’s smile softened. “You look like a man who has sacrificed much in the name of defending his clan. I can think of few others that have given as much. If there are those who cannot look beyond the surface, then they are fools.”

Mareshi smiled wanly. “You are too kind.” He looked at the looming doors. “When did he arrive?”

“Who can say?” she answered. “He was simply here, and he asked for you.”

“Then I should go,” Mareshi said. “Thank you, Lady Iweko.”

Mareshi thought of trying to neaten his appearance for a moment, but discarded the idea as pointless. He opened the door and stepped into the castle’s primary audience chamber.

A familiar sensation washed over him instantly. It was a sort of low-grade panic, and it filled him every time he was in the presence of his lord, Togashi Satsu. The few times he had dared to speak of the sensation to others, he had discovered that no one else felt it. He had no choice but to assume it was some instinctual response, probably a result of his mother’s Naga blood. The Naga, it seemed, would regard an entity such as Satsu as a predator. A logical response, but one that was unnecessary. Mareshi’s life belonged to Satsu, and he would not question that. As he had in the past, he forced the sensation to the back of his mind and forged ahead.

The chamber was strangely empty, with no sign of his lord. There were two men, one a Dragon and another in black, waiting for him. The Dragon stepped forward. “Mareshi-sama,” he said with a low bow.

Mareshi thought for a moment, then recalled the man’s name. “Mirumoto Hirohisa,” he said. “Commander of a northern watch tower, as I recall. I was unaware you had been summoned to the front.”

“Hai,” he answered. “I was among those privileged to accompany Rosanjin-sama to the Shadowlands in defense of the Emperor.”

Mareshi’s eyes widened. “You’ve returned!” he said. “I only came from the front an hour ago, and I have not heard any news. Where is Rosanjin-sama? Is the Emperor safely returned to the capital?”

Hirohisa lowered his head. “He is lost,” he whispered hoarsely.

Mareshi stared at him in disbelief. “The Emperor?”

The officer nodded. “Rosanjin as well, and many others.”

Mareshi felt the strength leave his legs, and for a moment thought he might sit on the floor. Mirumoto Rosanjin had been his lord, his commander, and his friend. That he could be gone, much less the Emperor… it was too much. “What happened?” he said in a hollow voice.

“The Emperor sacrificed himself at the Tomb of the Seven Thunders,” Hirohisa said. “He sacrificed himself so that we could preserve the relics from the tomb. He believed they were necessary for the Empire to survive.” He stopped for a moment, as if struggling with something. “Rosanjin-sama stopped along the way to… to slow down the demons, so that the rest of us could reach the Wall.” The man clenched his fists, his face a mask of anguish. “I should have stayed with him,” he said. “I should have died, so that he could have returned.”

“No.” The voice came from everywhere. The dimly lit southern half of the room stirred, and a massive form emerged from the shadows. Mareshi was certain it had not been there only a moment ago, but at the sight of the gigantic, serpentine form, the panic welled up within him again. He pushed it aside. “Rosanjin chose his destiny. He died as he lived, and we must honor his decision.”

“Lord Satsu,” Mareshi said, kneeling. “I… I do not know what to say.”

“We will deal with the matter of Rosanjin’s loss in a moment,” Satsu said, his brilliant eyes gleaming as he surveyed the room. “First, we must resolve the matter at hand. This is Shosuro Aroru.”

The black-clad man stepped forward and bowed deeply before Mareshi. “It is my honor, Mareshi-sama.”

“Likewise,” he replied, returning the bow.

“Aroru stood with Rosanjin and Hirohisa at the battle, and have returned with the news of his death.”

Mareshi nodded. “It is comforting, at least, to know that my lord perished fighting alongside such men.”

“It should have been me,” Hirohisa repeated quietly.

“Enough,” Satsu said firmly. “You were spared for reasons we cannot yet know. Your fate will come in time. Until then, live in his memory, if that offers you comfort.” Hirohisa nodded mutely, and the Dragon Champion returned his attention to the Scorpion. “Aroru has brought something else as well.”

“Yes, Satsu-sama.” The black clad man withdrew a small package from the folds of his robe and held it out for Mareshi. “It was taken from the Tomb by Rosanjin, and when he chose to stay behind, he bid me bring it to his kinsmen.”

“What is it?” Mareshi asked.

“I have not examined the contents, nor allowed them to be examined. It was my wish, and the wish of Lord Paneki, that the Dragon alone look upon it.”

“Thank you for that,” Mareshi said. “With every opportunity, the Scorpion continue to prove their worth as our allies and our friends.” He hesitated for a moment. “Why is it…” his voice trailed off.

“It was not given to me because Rosanjin asked me to perform another duty,” Hirohisa answered. “And he ordered Maya to transport the item chosen by Shiba Aikune to the Phoenix lands. There were no other Phoenix to take it, just as there were no other Dragon.”

“No other…” Mareshi was filled with a dawning sense of horror. “Two?” he asked. “Two of you returned?”

Hirohisa nodded.

“By the Fortunes,” Mareshi said quietly.

“It is a day that will be remembered throughout the Empire for the loss of the Emperor, and of those who served him with honor,” Satsu said. “For the moment, however, we must focus on the matter at hand. Mareshi, the package.”

“Yes, my lord.” He took the bundle the Scorpion offered and began to unwrap it, pausing momentarily with a glance at Aroru.

“We have nothing to hide from our brothers,” Satsu said.

“No, my lord,” Aroru insisted. “I am grateful for your trust, but this is not for my eyes, and I must return to my home. I am needed.”

“Of course,” Satsu said. “Hirohisa, see to it that Aroru-san is provided a full honor guard on his path to the front lines. I regret that we cannot offer protection beyond that, Aroru.”

The man’s mask obscured his face, but from his tone, Mareshi thought he might have smiled. “I am certain I can avoid the Lion and Crane, my lord.” With another bow, he followed the Dragon officer from the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

Mareshi unwrapped the package and stared curiously at its contents. It was a mirror, of sorts, but one cast in a greenish hue. It was framed by intertwined jade dragons. Despite its exotic appearance, there was nothing about the object itself that gave him pause, but the reflection it showed was something altogether different.

Within the mirror, Mareshi looked somewhat different. His armor, clothing, and other trappings were the same, but his face seemed odd somehow. Serpentine features flickered across it as he tilted it from side to side, never remaining for more than an instant. He frowned, and the man-serpent in the mirror frowned. Mareshi recognized the features interposed with his own. He had seen them often in his youth, when he had spent certain seasons among his mother’s people, shortly before they returned to the Great Sleep. “This mirror,” he began.

“Shows the truth,” Satsu rumbled. “It shows the purest form of those things reflected within it, whatever that might be. Were I to gaze upon it in my human form, I would appear as I do now. A man with a black and twisted heart might appear as a demon within it. It is a powerful tool, and one that must be used with honor.”

“Do you know of this mirror?” Mareshi asked.

Satsu shifted his coils. “I have… memories of it,” he said. His tone was strangely evasive. “I believe my grandfather was familiar with it.”

“What should be done with it?”

“It will be taken to the High House of Light, and the order my father founded will study it. There are perhaps no others in the Empire who stand a chance of determining how it may be used properly. Arranging for its safe transport will be the first task of your new duties.”

Mareshi raised his eyebrows. “My lord?”

“With the loss of Rosanjin, the Dragon are considerably weakened,” Satsu said. “This cannot be allowed to happen, particularly now. We are challenged both in court and on the battlefield, and we must deal with both. There was a dishonorable incident with the Crane during the return to the Wall, one that is a symptom of the sickness in their hearts. It will make their court battle more difficult by far, but we cannot assume it will be sufficient.”

“I am a soldier, my lord,” Mareshi replied. “I will do whatever you ask, but I fear I can do little about the Crane’s assault upon us in the courts.”

“That is not true,” Satsu said. “Rosanjin left no indication of a chosen heir in the manner of his predecessor. Uso was chosen during the time prior to your father’s reconciliation with the clan of his birth. With Uso and Rosanjin’s lines ended, your line is the rightful heir to the position of daimyo.”

Mareshi shook her head. “What are you saying, my lord?”

“Your line once ruled the Mirumoto,” Satsu said. “It is time for it to rule again. Your bloodline cannot be disputed.”

Mareshi drew back in surprise. “My lord, I… I am not a leader. I am no politician.”

“Nor was Rosanjin.”

“You said that Rosanjin’s line had ended,” Mareshi objected. “That is not true. His sister Masae is the Keeper of Air. The position is rightfully hers.”

“She will not accept it,” Satsu said. “You know this as well as I. I will not force her into a position to decline either her status as a Keeper or the position of daimyo. She would be greatly dishonored either way.”

“There must be others better suited to the role. When Uso died, Rosanjin was chosen despite the lack of familial ties. Surely it could be done again if it benefited the clan.”

“There is no one better suited,” Satsu said.

“What of Kei?” Mareshi said. “She is capable in all things. I have witnessed her skill with my own eyes. I know she would be better suited to leadership.”

“I have chosen you,” Satsu said.

Mareshi frowned and thought for a moment. “If I were married, then I would have the right to divide my duties with my spouse, if I saw fit to do so, would I not? Just as other Champions have done.”

Satsu tilted his head and regarded the young man curiously. “It is not without precedent.”

“Then I request the right to marry Mirumoto Kei,” Mareshi said. “Once the war is finished, we will determine how to proceed. I imagine one of us shall administrate the family and the other oversee the military.”

Satsu might have smiled, but it was difficult to tell. “You never fail to surprise me, Mareshi-san. That is a rarity, much to my regret.” The great dragon paused for a moment. “You have my permission to marry Kei. I will send word to her family.” He paused again. “Your parents married out of mutual love. While that is rare in the Empire, it is not unheard of. You do not desire this for yourself?”

“I cannot put aside my duty,” Mareshi said flatly. “This is what is best for the clan. I do not love Kei, but I respect her. That is all that I require.”

Satsu stirred restlessly. “Let us hope the men that you command shall possess your strength and conviction, Mareshi-san,” he said. “Else, the Dragon Clan will suffer much before this time of trial is finished.”

Mareshi lowered his head. He wondered if anything could stop the suffering he had already seen, and again pushed aside the instinctual panic that threatened to well up and overwhelm him at the thought that things could become worse.