Rokugan. Don't worry, Hoturi. It has been a long winter, but spring is coming. Things will be better when it arrives."
"Looking at you, I can almost believe it," Hoturi said. He bowed curtly. "Farewell, Tsukune-san."
"And you, too, Hoturi-san," she said. "I'll see about sending some of our Phoenix artisans to help you rebuild."
"Their aid would be most welcome."
She turned and clicked gently to her warhorse. The animal galloped off toward where the Phoenix army waited. They formed up quickly and marched off to the north.
Hoturi watched his friend's troops as long as he could, but the looming darkness soon swallowed them.
After a while, Hoturi's yojimbo, who had kept their distance during the conversation, stepped toward their lord. "Shall we escort you back to camp, Hoturi-sama?" the lead bodyguard asked.
The Crane daimyo shook his head. "No. Leave me. I have some thinking to do."
The guards took a few discreet steps away from their master. Hoturi scowled. "No. I mean really leave. I want to be alone."
"But the city is in ruins," the foremost man said. "It may be dangerous, Hoturi-sama."
The Crane waved his hand dismissively at them. "Go."
The guards bowed and scurried away.
When they had gone, Hoturi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The distant sounds of the surf filled his ears. Beyond rumbled an approaching thunderstorm. In his mind's eye, Hoturi imagined Kyuden Doji as it had been: green gardens, proud towers, well-ordered streets, lively shops.
Even with his eyes shut, Hoturi could not deny the truth of the matter. He smelled the odors of burnt wood, charred flesh, and decay. He heard the scrabbling of rats and, drifting to him from somewhere nearby, weeping. Someday, the Crane capital would be as it had been; that day was a long way off.
As Hoturi opened his eyes, an old man loped into view from behind a ruined battlement wall. The man was short and hunched over. Rags draped his bony frame, and his gray hair hung in long strings down his round shoulders. When he saw Hoturi, he grinned a toothless grin and shambled forward to greet the daimyo.
"You think you've won," the old man said pleasantly. "You think this is a day of great victory over Fu Leng for the Crane."
Hoturi shook his head. "Great? How could it be? Look around you, old man. This victory is not great, though it is far better than defeat."
The old man's dark eyes sparkled. "A storm is coming, you know. This is not over yet."
"I know," Hoturi said. "I pray to the Fortunes that I will be ready for the trials to come."
"Better you should pray to someone who will aid you," the old man said. He now stood only an arm's length from the Crane daimyo. Hoturi noticed that the man smelled of fresh earth. ( learly, he had not bathed lately.
"You think I should pray to Amaterasu then," Hoturi said. He nodded and looked out to sea once more. "Hai. Perhaps. Her light would be welcome in these times of darkness."
"No," the man said, his toothless mouth grinning wide, "you should pray to Fu Leng."
Hoturi turned, an angry question on his lips. The creature i hat faced him, however, was no longer an old man. The thing's limbs had grown longer, and even more bony. Its eyes were large and yellow, with small red pupils. Its mouth gaped like that of a yawning wolf.
"Pray to the master!" the creature hissed. "Join us and regain your former glory! Rokugan's true lord welcomes men like you. That's why I stayed behind when the other's fled. That's why I waited for you. Look how much you've achieved already in the master's cause. Think how much you could accomplish toiling at his side. You belong with us!"
A noiseless snarl creased the Crane daimyo's lips. He reached for his sword, but a long, purple tongue shot out of the creature's mouth and wrapped around Hoturi's wrist. The tongue twisted suddenly and flipped the katana out of the Crane's grip. The sword sailed through the air and skidded under a pile of rubble ten paces away.
Before Hoturi could react, the monster leapt on him. It kept the Crane's arm wrapped in its sticky tongue and lashed out at him with its long claws. The daimyo fended off the attack with a martial arts block, but the talons shredded the left arm of his kimono.
Hoturi fell backward under the creature's weight, landing hard on the bare earth. The air rushed out of his lungs as the monster sat on his chest. The daimyo struggled to free his arm from the tongue, but couldn't.
"Never! I'll never join you!" Hoturi gasped.
The thing raked with its claws once more. Hoturi twisted aside, but the blow still bloodied his left shoulder. The wound burned like fire, and sweat broke out on the Crane's forehead.
He seized a handful of dirt and flung it into the creature's eyes. The thing shrieked, blinked, and rubbed its eyes, trying to clear the dust. Its tongue slackened momentarily.
That was all the chance Hoturi needed. He pulled his wakiza-shi from its scabbard and chopped the tongue in half. The monster wailed. It lashed at the daimyo with its claws.
Hoturi ducked beneath them and plunged the short sword deep into the creature's belly.
The monster hissed, and its mouth fell open. Yellow eyes rolled back into its bony head, and the corpse flopped onto Hoturi's chest.
The Crane daimyo pushed the carcass off and scrambled to his feet. He beheaded the monster, just to make sure it was dead. Then he shook the blood from his sword and went to fetch his katana.
As he probed under the stony pile of rubble, a deep, pleasant voice said, "Well done."
Hoturi jumped up, scraping his hand on the rocks.
Before him stood a ronin wearing a green cloak. The cloak was pulled low over the man's eyes, but from what Hoturi could see, the stranger had a strong, handsome face.
"Who are you?" the daimyo snarled, quickly drawing his short sword once more.
"I've been called many things," the man said, "though most know me as the Hooded Ronin."
Hoturi nodded. "I've heard of you. They say you fight the forces of the Evil One. I could have used some help here."
"If you had truly needed help," the ronin said, "I would have offered it." He leaned on his tall wooden staff and peered out from beneath his hood.
Hoturi scowled. "I could use less mysticism and more practical advice right now. I expect such riddles from Dragons, not nomadic ronin. Why are you here?"
"The oni you fought said the battles were not yet over," replied the wanderer. "It was right. The war has barely begun. You will be called to fight again before the end comes. You have much to answer for, Doji Hoturi."
The Crane daimyo nodded thoughtfully. "Hai, I know."
"I'm here to tell you that you will have a chance to make amends for what you've done."
Hoturi brightened at the prospect. "I would do anything."
The ronin nodded. "Yosh. The end time is nearly upon us. We will meet again on the Day of Thunder."
"When will that be?"
"When the time comes, you will know," the Hooded Ronin said.
Hoturi sighed. "You talk like Shinsei himself: all riddles and warnings, few answers."
The Hooded Ronin smiled. "Perhaps I do. Is that such a bad thing, though?"
"No," replied Hoturi. "The world could use Shinsei right now, but he's as dead and gone as the Seven Thunders you speak of."
"Is he gone?" the ronin asked. "Or does he merely live in our hearts, waiting for us to call him forth once more?"
Hoturi looked at him skeptically. "You weren't raised by priests, were you? My friend Toturi talks like that sometimes."
"Toturi is a wise man. Though he, too, has much to make amends for."
"Hai," said Hoturi. He stuck his thumbs in the waistband of his obi and felt something soft. Pulling it out, he discovered a lock of hair from Doji Ameiko—the wife he had betrayed. She was long gone, now. Sadness filled Hoturi's heart. "I have more to make up for than Toturi, though, I think."
"Perhaps," said the ronin. "Then you must be prepared to sacrifice even more to make amends."
Hotu
ri nodded. "I will do whatever it takes. I will pay any price."
The Hooded Ronin nodded in reply. "Good."
The Crane daimyo took in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. His demeanor brightened. "Dinner awaits in my pavilion. I'm certain your travels don't permit much time for a relaxing meal. Why not take a moment now? I would welcome the company."
"You're correct," the ronin said, "I have little time for such things." He sighed. "Even now, I have few moments for luxuries. So I fear I must decline."
"As you wish," Hoturi said. "Perhaps some other time, when all this is over—after we've rebuilt Kyuden Doji."
"Perhaps," the ronin said. "Domo Arigato, Hoturi-sama." He bowed, and then straightened and took his staff in both hands. Hoturi noticed that the top end of the traveler's walking stick had been carved into a flute.
"Fare you well, Hoturi," the ronin said. He put the flute to his lips and walked quickly over the blasted ruins, playing a haunting melody. "We'll meet again soon."
"Hai," Doji Hoturi said quietly. "Far too soon, I suspect."
The ocean thunderheads had crept very close to shore now. The Crane daimyo turned and walked back to camp, seeking shelter from the impending storm.
JUNZO
The man who had once been Yogo Junzo smiled. The black fires of Fu Leng had long ago burned away his soul. Now the skeletal creature in the blood-red robes was merely Junzo, master sorcerer and warlord of Fu Leng.
Junzo cast his desiccated eyes over the landscape and saw victory there. The temple before him burned. In the distance behind it—flames leapt up from the local village. A tall pile of corpses lay in the temple courtyard. The samurai shugenja enjoyed the looks of terror on the faces of the dead. Soon, the feasting would begin.
Junzo's parchmentlike lips pulled back from his yellowed teeth, and pestilent breath hissed out. "Bring me the abbot first."
Yakushi, a skeletal man with oil-black armor and an ashen face, bowed to his lord and walked to where a small group of Shin-seist clergy lay facedown on the flagstones. A half dozen skeletons armed with no-dachi
long swords guarded the shivering priests and priestesses.
The dark lieutenant seized a chubby, bald-headed man in a saffron robe and lifted him to his feet. "Walk, or die," Yakushi said, his coarse voice rattling in his desiccated throat.
The head priest looked calmly at the corrupt samurai, as if to say that he did not fear death. Nonetheless, he walked to where Junzo sat atop his onikage. The demon horse champed and snorted steam at the abbot's approach.
"You lead these people?" Junzo asked.
"Amaterasu leads; Shinsei teaches; I am but a humble servant," the abbot said.
"Where is the descendant of Shinsei?" Junzo snarled, green spittle spraying from his lips.
"If you think I would answer, even if I knew," the priest said calmly, "then Fu Leng has rotted your mind as well as your soul."
Junzo leaned forward in his saddle, so that his face nearly touched the abbot's. "Do you not fear me, little priest?"
"You have no power over me, fallen one," the abbot replied.
Junzo plunged his fingers into the man's eyes and drank his death.
As the abbot's corpse tumbled backward, Junzo said, "Then it is your brain that has rotted, monk. You will join the other deluded meat on the table of my great lord." He turned to Yakushi and said, "The head priestess, next."
The black-garbed samurai walked to the line of Shinseists, their number now reduced to four—two men and two women. He grabbed the long black hair of the younger woman and dragged her before his master.
The woman stood and brushed the dirt from her black kimono. Clenching her fists at her sides, she lifted her chin and forced her lower lip to stop quivering.
"Tell me where to find Shinsei's descendant," Junzo said, his hollow eyes blazing.
"Cut out my tongue, evil one," the priestess said, "for I will not tell you what you want to know."
"I'll do far worse than that," Junzo hissed. He reached for the woman, abominable green energy playing over his bony fingertips.
The priestess held her head high. "This body is but a shell and life an illusion," she said. Her brown eyes were clear and determined.
Junzo snarled and whirled his skeletal demon-horse in a circle The monster snapped at the priestess's face, but she held strong"Stand the others up," Junzo ordered Yakushi.
Yakushi and the skeletal guards pulled the other woman and the two men with her to their feet. These initiates were not so practiced as their masters; fear shone on their gentle faces. Their bodies shook and sweated.
" Be brave," the priestess said. "Amaterasu watches over you."
"The sun goddess may have them, then," Junzo said. The evil shugenja reached out and twisted his fingers. Crimson energy coursed from his hand and struck one of the men—a tall, thin fellow in the chest. The man gasped, and his eyes went wide. His sternum shattered, and his heart ripped from his chest.
Still beating, the organ sailed through the air into Junzo's outstretched hand. The monk had only a moment to register the shock as Junzo squeezed his heart into red pulp. The man fell to the cold earth.
"Would you see them all meet your precious goddess, Mother?" Junzo asked the priestess. "Would you watch them all die?"
"To save the world, I would," she said. "And they would die gladly to deny you and your dark lord victory."
The remaining man, a short, middle-aged fellow, suddenly bolted for the temple gate. Junzo spoke a word of power and gestured. Iron-fanged serpents sprang up from the soil in front of the frightened monk. The snakes surrounded the man, twisted around his body, and crushed him. Their razor-sharp teeth tore the flesh from his face. He screamed horribly as he died.
The remaining novice shrieked, her eyes wide with terror.
"Silence!" the priestess said sternly. "Would you threaten your soul to save your body?"
The novice clamped her mouth shut and stood whimpering softly, tears streaming down her round face.
Junzo looked at his lieutenant and pointed to the frightened woman.
Yakushi nodded his understanding. He walked to a burning building and stuck his glove into the blaze. The dark samurai grinned as the hand caught fire. He strolled slowly back to the trembling novice and held the burning limb before her face.
"Beg your mistress for your life," Junzo said to the novice. "A simple word from her can save you."
The novice looked from Junzo to the priestess. Her superior's calm gaze told her that no compromise was possible. The novice bit her lip and clenched her fists at her side.
"Burn her!" Junzo said.
Yakushi put his burning hand into the woman's hair. His touch was as gentle as a caress, but the hair caught fire nonetheless. The woman screamed and tried to pat out the blaze. When she brought her hand up to her face, her kimono ignited as well. Soon her whole body was ablaze. She wailed until the hellish fire consumed her lungs and her charred corpse fell to the flagstones. Yakushi smiled.
"See my power," Junzo said to the priestess. He rubbed his skeletal hands together in satisfaction.
"Your power is nothing but illusion," she said.
Junzo's pale, paper-thin skin crackled with rage. "Tell me where to find Shinsei's heir. My wrath is terrible, but my grace can be just as marvelous. Tell me and my master will grant you any boon you desire."
"I would not tell you, even if you swore to destroy every last Black Scroll," the clear-eyed priestess said.
"The scrolls have given me more power than your gods, bitch!" Junzo shrieked, spitting the words at the defiant woman. "Yakushi, show her the embrace of Fu Leng."
Yakushi nodded. He touched his still-burning hand to his own face. His flesh caught fire. Quickly, the inferno spread over his body, until every part of him blazed with evil flames. He walked to where the priestess stood and held out his arms to her.
The woman leaned away from the blazing man, though she knew she could not escape. She did not cry out as he encircle
d her with his blazing arms and kissed her. Her long hair became a sizzling torch. Her flesh melted, and her eyeballs burst. In moments, she was as dead as the other Shinseists.
" Fool," Junzo hissed. "Run her up. I want to speak to our master."
Yakushi bowed slightly and took the burning corpse in his fiery arms. Several skeletal samurai brought iron chains and threw them over the great torii—one of few structures in the temple compound that had not been destroyed by the blaze.
The burning samurai fastened the chains around the dead priestess' wrists, and the skeletons hoisted her into the air under the sacred wooden gate. Yakushi chained the woman's ankles as well, and the skeletons pulled the bonds tight. Ashen (lakes of skin fell from her body as the woman dangled beneath the torii.
Junzo smiled and chanted evil-sounding words of power. The woman's body shook, and her head jerked back. Her charred lips opened and spoke words that were not her own.
"I hear you, my servant," the deep, pleasant voice said. "Have you found my nemesis yet?"
"The descendant of Shinsei remains at large, my lord," Junzo replied. "Though he can't evade us much longer. Soon, there will be no more temples for him to cower in."
"Do not be so sure that he is cowering," the master said. Soon, he will assemble Seven Thunders to face me, just as he did long ago."
"I will kill him before he has the chance," Junzo said.
"You cannot kill what you cannot find," Fu Leng said. "Beware. My patience grows thin."
"Perhaps in the Phoenix lands I shall find the answers we seek," Junzo said. His fingers twitched nervously, and he ran them through his stringy white hair. "The Phoenix are nothing now. l liey have destroyed themselves with their arrogance and lust for power. I will burn their great library and rip the knowledge from their rotten minds."
"Yes," the voice hissed. "Though their soul is ours, they are strong of will. Perhaps the Phoenix still hide our enemy."
"I will speak to our ally within their ranks. We will root out the chosen one and slaughter him and his followers. The Thunders will never assemble, and you will stride the land unfettered once more."
L5r - scroll 07 - The Lion Page 9