By Shawn Carman
Development & Editing by Fred Wan
Mirumoto Narumi had visited temples all across the Empire as part of her duties as an Emerald Magistrate. It was not specifically a duty, so to speak, but travel was often involved in her work, and whenever she found herself far from home, she would enter one of the local temples to find her center. It was one of the minor rituals she practiced that helped her keep her focus and excel at her duties. Or at least, perform them in such a way that others called excellence. On that, Narumi had never felt absolutely certain. Even now, in the one temple that should offer her the comfort she needed to quell her fears, she was uncertain.
“Welcome, sister.”
The magistrate turned and smiled and the monk holding a respectful bow to her right. She bowed as well. “Thank you, brother,” she said. “I did not mean to intrude. I hope that I have not interrupted your meditations.”
“Of course not, Mirumoto-sama,” the monk replied with a smile. “And even if you had, that would be well within your rights. This temple is a tribute to your actions.”
Narumi winced. She had hoped that perhaps none of the monks would recognize her, and had been cautious to wear nothing that bore her Emerald Magistrate’s seal when she had departed for the shrine this morning. “How do you know me?” she asked. “This is my first visit to the shrine.”
The monk’s smile widened. “Narumi-sama, do you think that a shrine constructed in honor of your accomplishments would be unfamiliar with your visage? The abbot has a beautiful painting of you in the brothers’ quarters. You saved his monastery from a bandit attack prior to his ascension to the position of head brother here. He is a tremendous admirer of you and your work.”
Narumi felt her cheeks grow warm. “I am flattered, but I do not think that I deserve such admiration.”
“Would you deserve it if you desired it?” the monk asked. “I think not.”
The magistrate smiled wryly. “I sometimes think that the Brotherhood of Shinsei could instruct the Togashi order on the proper use of riddles.”
“Why thank you,” the brother replied with a bow. “May I ask to what we owe the honor of your presence this glorious morning?”
Narumi’s smile faded, and she drew a deep breath. “I have been given leave to visit my family before resuming my duties serving the new Emerald Champion,” she said. “I have returned home, if only briefly, despite that I have little family remaining.”
The monk folded his hands within his sleeves. “Your demeanor suggests uncertainty, sister. What is it that troubles you? Have your duties changed?”
“No. At least, I do not think so.” Narumi looked down at her hands. “I do not believe that Shosuro Jimen will be the same manner of lord that Yasuki Hachi was.”
“No man can walk the path of another, even if that path is one he wishes for himself,” the monk said in a predictably enigmatic manner.
Narumi smiled. “That is not quite what I meant.”
The monk sat. “Explain, if it will lighten your burden.”
She hesitated for a moment. “I relish my duties, I do,” she began slowly, “but there have been times when I have been forced to do something that… that otherwise I would not have wished to do. My duty would not allow me to do otherwise.”
“A difficult choice that all samurai must make at some point in their lifetimes,” the monk said. “Indeed, many who are not samurai must reconcile such a thing.”
“Perhaps it is easier for them,” Narumi said “It is a terrible burden.”
“It might ease your pain if you speak of it,” the monk said. “Are you at liberty to do such a thing?”
Narumi frowned, and remembered.
One year ago, the Seppun provinces…
The simple wooden door shattered as Narumi shouldered her way through it, blade drawn. Sunlight flooded the ramshackle building illuminating three figures within. “Wait!” one shouted. “Please, no! You do not understand!”
One of the three rushed forward, a farming implement held like a weapon. Cursing inwardly, Narumi cut the man down without hesitation, then held her blade at arm’s length, its tip on the throat of the man who had spoken. “Surrender,” she said.
“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, of course, my lady. Please, this is all a mistake! You have to believe me!”
“Is he there?” an imperious voice from outside demanded.
Narumi grimace. “Hai,” my lord.
“Bring him out. Let me see the treacherous filth.”
Narumi gestured with her head toward the door, and the obviously panicked man reluctantly stepped outside. Outside the tent, two heavily armored Seppun guards held the second of the three men from within the tent. Her partner, Kuni Yaruko of the Jade Magistrates, stood by uncomfortably. “This is the man who dared take place in a conspiracy to seize the throne?”
Narumi inclined her head to the man atop the horse, whose Imperial robes rustled slightly in the breeze. “This is the man you have told us to apprehend, my lord.”
“How dare you insult my patronage by committing such a vile act in my lands?” the noble spat. “You are a disgrace! An abomination! You and your line will return from the Realm of Waiting as eta, or worse!”
“My lord, please!” the man rasped. “I… I have only done what you commanded!”
“You dare speak thus to me!” Seppun Shogo roared. “You are nothing but a criminal! A blasphemer!” A light seemed to dawn in his eyes. “And a maho-tsukai!”
“What?” the man said, clearly confused.
Yaruko’s eyes darkened, and she clenched her fists as she stared at the man. “Crab!” Shogo commanded. “Destroy this abomination!”
Yaruko bowed and whispered under her breath. Narumi saw the tell-tales wisps of green energy begin to coalesce around her fists, and then suddenly stopped. Yaruko opened her eyes and looked confused. “My lord, this man does not possess the Taint.”
“What?” Shogo demanded. “Preposterous!”
“I am sorry, my lord, but the spells will not work on one without the Taint.”
“I have seen this man use maho with my own eyes!” Shogo roared. “I offer you my testimony as a senior member of the Seppun family, and you dare refute me?”
“I can only do as the kami tell me,” Yaruko said.
“She is a conspirator!” Shogo roared. “Seize her!”
Three more armored Seppun stepped forward and grabbed Yaruko roughly. Narumi’s eyes widened. “My lord, please,” she began.
“Mirumoto Narumi,” Shogo said quietly. “You are an Emerald Magistrate, ordered by Asahina Sekawa himself to assist me in the resolution of this matter. I am giving you my formal testimony that this man is both a traitor to the throne and a maho-tsukai. I command you to execute him.”
Narumi looked at the man, whose eyes were filled with terror and confusion. She knew in her heart that this man had done no such thing.
“Your friend is a gifted shugenja,” Shogo said, his voice even lower. “Still, the Kuni are not infallible. I am certain this matter is a simple misunderstanding. If this man lives, of course, I am confident he will confess to conspiring with Yaruko, and I will have no choice but to order execution as well.” He paused for a moment. “Tell me, Narumi… how important is your duty?”
“I cannot speak of it,” Narumi said after a few moments’ silence. “I am bound by my word of honor not to.”
“Of course,” the monk said with a bow. “Forgive me, I should never have asked. Still, it is clear that there are times when your duty weighs heavily upon you.”
“Only rarely,” Narumi confessed. “For the most part, I consider my duties a blessing. They are my purpose, my function. They are the means by which I serve my family and clan, and the means by which I fulfill my role in the Celestial Order. They are of great comfort to me.”
The monk smiled. “And yet you feel unworthy to be honored, as you have been in this temple?”
“I do,” she said. “It is difficult to explain.”
“Take comfort in that you are not the first to be so honored, sister,” the monk said. “Many Dragon heroes have been honored, but none so much as you and one of your predecessors, Mirumoto Taki.” The monk bowed his head reverently. “I fear he has borne a burden far greater than yours, and continues to do so.”
“Taki?” Narumi said, her tone one of shock. “Does he not live still?”
“After a fashion,” the monk said in a somber tone. “Let me tell you of his trials.”
The Race to Volturnum, long ago
The Dragon warrior wrenched his blades free of the thing he had just killed and turned to slaughter another just like it. He had no idea what the things were, and it did not matter to him. They were the enemy. They were in his path. They must be destroyed. He had killed hundreds since entering the Shadowlands, perhaps even thousands. His muscles screamed in pain at the near constant combat of the last week, and yet he did not slow. Another of his enemies fell before him, and another, and another. The progression was endless.
“Master Taki!”
The voice shook him from the killing fog that had settled over him. Taki blinked and glanced around. He was surrounded by the dead and dying forms of his foes, drenched in their blood from his chest down. As the killing veil lifted, his winced at the pain wracking his limbs. He realized as he stared blankly at the young soldier approaching him that he could not remember his name. “What is it?”
“Sensei, we lost four more men in that wave.”
Taki spat on the ground and cursed. “The bodies?” he asked.
The young soldier shook his head and looked away. The others gathered around them, and Taki could see the tell-tale signs of despair clouding their faces. When they had set forth into the Shadowlands alongside the other armies, there had been hundreds of them. Now, there were merely dozens, and all too often they had been faced with killing the men that had walked beside them only days before. “We have lost many good friends,” he said, almost to himself.
“Too many,” a handful murmured among the ranks. Their words were answered with mournful nods, and more than one man placed his hand over his face to conceal his grief.
Taki grimaced. His men were on the brink of defeating themselves. “No more,” he said loudly. “Not one more soul.”
One of the young officers looked at him with confusion. “My lord, are you suggesting… that we retreat?”
“No,” Taki said at once. “We will not retreat. We will not surrender. I say this to you, brothers: while I hold command, not one of you will be taken. Not by the Shadowlands, and not by the damnable shadows that plague us. Not one among us will be taken. I give you my word of honor.”
A glimmer of hope passed through the men, but not all of them. “My lord, how can you promise such a thing?”
Taki fixed the man who had spoken with a gaze that could have rent steel. “Do you doubt me?” he asked. “Do any among you doubt my word of honor?”
“No,” the reply came instantly. “No, sensei.”
“Then draw your blades,” Taki ordered. “Today you may die, but your souls will never linger in this dark place. This I promise you, my brothers. If you die here, you die as a hero, and you remain dead, that your sons and daughters can honor your memories.” He held his blade above his head. “Who stands with me?”
The Dragon’s war cry resounded off the hills as the men rushed to rejoin the other armies in their slow, inexorable march through the Shadowlands.
Three days later, Taki’s vow had been upheld. Every one of his men who had fallen had been burned or decapitated, ensuring that there was nothing left for their enemies to take. On the third day, Taki had received orders to perform scouting along the southern flank, and he had taken his men and a handful of others to fulfill his duties. They were moving as quietly and quickly as possible through a series of low, jagged outcroppings of what appeared to be blood-red stone when one of his men gestured desperately for his attention.
“What is it?” he whispered. He remembered the scout’s name was Mitoru.
Mitoru’s face was as white as the snow. He said nothing, but gestured to the south. Taki followed his finger and squinted, straining to see anything. It looked like perhaps a faint dust cloud on the horizon, but nothing more. “I can’t see anything,” he cursed.
Of all his men, Mitoru had a reputation for being the finest scout despite his young age, owing primarily to his keen eyesight. Taki had never seen anything like it in all the students he had trained. “It… it is an army, sensei.”
“An army?” Taki looked again, and decided that the cloud was slightly larger. “What manner of army?”
“Demons,” the young scout whispered. “Dozens, maybe hundreds. They are on an intercept course with the main army.”
Taki cursed again and looked around. He gestured for the Scorpion officer to come closer, then pointed the man to the horizon.
The Bayushi squinted much in the same manner as Taki had. “What is it I am looking at?” he asked.
“A fresh wave,” Taki said, “heading for the main force.”
The Scorpion narrowed his eyes. “We are too close. If they strike the main force we will be delayed, and we will not reach the city in time.” He turned to Taki. “That cannot be allowed.”
“Agreed,” Taki said. “Do you have a recommendation as to how we can slow down so many? A direct confrontation will result in our deaths, and they will continue on to their destination virtually unimpeded.”
The Scorpion glanced around and frowned. “Scout, is there any area of higher ground leading abruptly to lower ground near here? Something in their path, that we could get to before them.”
Mitoru glanced around with a frown, then pointed to the east. “There is a ridge they will cross there. It is about a twelve foot drop. It is not a significant enough obstacle for them to avoid.”
“Get your men ready,” the Scorpion snapped. “We need to be against the base of the ridge as fast as possible.”
Taki gestured for his men to rise, but levied a curious gaze at the Scorpion. “What manner of officer are you?” he asked.
Bayushi Hisa raised one eyebrow. “Whoever told you I was an officer, master sensei?” And with that, he went to marshal his own forces, leaving Taki confused.
The Dragon and Scorpion reached the cliff’s edge mere moments before the oni horde came into view. Even as they took their positions, they could heard the thunderous approach in the distance. “Swords, spears, naginata!” the Scorpion shouted. “Whatever you have! When they leap over us, open their bellies!”
“This will not stop them,” Taki growled, readying his blade.
“It need not stop them,” Hisa said. “It only needs to thin their numbers so that we can hold them off long enough. It is a small price to pay, if one is willing to die.”
“You are a peculiar Scorpion,” Taki observed.
“I find stereotypes boring,” Hisa said dryly. “Why not change from day to day? It is far more interesting. Now quiet!”
Taki held his blade at the ready, waiting for the thunder to crest. It grew louder and louder until finally the ridge shook with their approach. “Ready!” Hisa shouted. And then the sun was blotted out as the massive forms of demons leapt through the void between the cliff’s edge and the plain below. With a guttural cry, Taki leapt forward and lashed out with both blades, cutting deep into the flesh of one oni’s stomach. Its viscera rained down on them like floodwater, but Taki did not stop, he continued striking again and again, at each of the endless series of forms that leapt from the cliff.
The bodies of demons cluttered the plain, until those following behind them were crashing into them, sending them sprawling in every direction. The Dragon and Scorpion were everywhere, slaughtering demons before they could rise, cutting those who followed out of the air. Blood flowed like a river, until Taki was ankle deep in it.
To his right, a Dragon samurai fell to the oni’s claws. Taki dispatched the demon and then took the head of his fallen brother. To the left, a similar scenario played out, and Taki turned his attention to them as well. Taki lost himself in the fog of death, his blades moving of their own accord.
Someone shouted in his ear with the voice of a Scorpion. “I go to warn the armies!” Hisa shouted. “Follow if you can!”
Taki turned, but the man was already gone. None of the Scorpion were anywhere to be found. Another Dragon fell as Taki watched, and he leaped forward to dispatch him before he could be taken.
There were but a handful of Dragon remaining, and the oni continued to come in waves, although far less than before. Taki and his men fought with their backs to one another, steel cleaving flesh one after another. He considered ordering a retreat, but Taki knew that if he did his men would be lost and his vow would be broken. He would not allow it. “To the death!” he screamed, feeling his blood burn from a dozen wounds all across his body. “No failure!”
One after another, the Dragon fell, until only Taki was left. He did not waver, he did not hesitate, until finally one of the last remaining demons felled him with a mighty blow to his head. What remained of the demons was too little to halt the samurai armies, and so the demons contented themselves by carrying away the only remaining target in condition to be of future service.
The bleeding, unconscious form of Mirumoto Taki disappeared into the depths of the Shadowlands, borne away in the jaws of a demon.
“A difficult decision,” Narumi said. “I would hope that I would have such strength, were I in a similar position.”
“Taki sacrificed himself to keep his word of honor. It was more important than his own life. Perhaps his end was not as he might have wished it, but his honor gave him a life greater than perhaps any among his generation, and he is remembered as a hero because of it.”
Narumi frowned. “Do not his actions today negate his oath?”
“You would be surprised of the accounts we have received,” the monk answered.
The Shadowlands, two years ago
Daigotsu Taki looked at the remnants of the scouting party with disgust. Only two of their number had survived, and while they had slain the beast that had plagued them, the dead were far more numerous. “Pathetic,” he snarled, heat and smoke issuing forth with his breath in his anger. “Is this the best the Dragon can muster in these times?”
One of the scouts met his eyes without fear. “We do not fear the Shadowlands. We do not cower in the shadows like your lot, striking out at the Crab when their back is turned. The Dragon bolster their allies with their service, and we remember what it means to have honor!”
Taki sneered. He kicked the pack of a fallen Hiruma and spilled its contents on the ground. Among them was a finger of jade, which Taki picked up. Wisps of smoke curled around his fingers as he did so, but no expression of pain crossed his face. “Take this and hold it to your palm,” he commanded the scout who had spoken, and threw it to him.
The scout looked at him curiously, then did so. When he brought the jade away, there was no mark to be found on his palm.
Taki nodded toward the second man. “Now him.
The second man took the jade with a shaking hand, his other hand clutching a terrible wound on his shoulder. He held the jade on his open palm for just a moment, then withdrew it. Where it had sat was a faint red outline, as if he had touched something warm.
Taki pointed to the first scout. “Leave. Tell the others that any patrols that venture this far south will be slaughtered to a man. My mercy will not be so freely given in the future.”
“What?” the scout asked. “You… you are letting me leave?”
“You are still pure,” the sensei said, drawing his blade. “Leave now.”
“What about my cousin?” the scout demanded, gesturing to the other man.
Taki made one swift cut, which caused blood to gout upward in a grotesque spout. “He is not pure.” He sheathed his blade without cleaning the blood off. “Leave now, or I shall change my mind.”
Narumi said nothing for some time. “He still honors his vow, then,” she offered quietly.
“So we are led to believe, yes,” the monk replied. “And for that alone, the memory of the man Daigotsu Taki once was, is worthy of a shrine in his memory.”
Narumi nodded. “A virtue is a strength, even if it must sometimes lead to a bad end.” She bowed her head to the monk. “Thank you brother. I would like to stay longer, but I fear I have duties that require my attention.”
As she rose and began to gather her belongings, the monk smiled broadly. “I knew that you would, sister.”