by Stan Brown
All the while, Yori's laughter rang in his ears.
THE LAST PEACEFUL SEASON
You may not be a warrior, but you are truly a Crab!"
Yasuki Taka bowed deeply, his cheeks flushed with pride. Such a compliment from the daimyo was a rare honor for a member of the Yasuki family—even its leader. Merchants were not highly prized, though necessary to keep a clan successful. Like lowly heimin, most samurai considered merchants below their notice. Under Taka's astute guidance, the Yasukis had begun to trade in a most precious commodity—prestige. By gaining Kisada's trust and ear, Taka secured for his family a place of honor in the history of the Crab Clan and, if all went as the Great Bear planned, the annals of imperial recognition.
"I live to serve, Tono," Taka said as he rose. "My apologies that we have not completed our work ahead of schedule, but all the ships will be ready by week's end."
Kisada looked over the cliff edge, down to the sea. A beach of white sand arced from one
horizon to the other. Azure water lapped gendy at the shore. About a quarter mile down the beach, several Crab samurai played in the surf, splashing and dunking one another.
The Great Bear smiled. It was best to allow his troops some time to romp and release pent-up energy. It had been a long winter, and war was coming soon enough.
Away from the water's edge, as far Kisada could see in both directions, merchant ships covered the beach. Large ships, small ships, ships that could be crewed by one, some that needed a full company of trained sailors to navigate, all built to move cargo from one port to another. And all of them in the process of being refitted to carry people instead of goods.
Certainly the journey would not be a comfortable one. There were no cabins added to the boats, just windows to allow air in and gangplanks to let passengers out. This entire merchant fleet had been transformed into a flotilla of transport ships capable of carrying the combined Crab and Shadowlands army away from their winter camp on Shima Chuto De.
The northernmost of the Mantis Clan islands had been the perfect spot for Kisada and his troops to spend the long winter. It was forbidding, forested heavily enough to supply the shipbuilders with adequate supplies, and nearly uninhabited. The only permanent structure on the island was an abandoned lighthouse. The few hermits and woodsmen who haunted the woods wanted nothing to do with the large camp of samurai on the southern shore. They probably assumed the force belonged to the Mantis Clan anyway. After all, who would want to come to such an out-of-the-way place?
An army that wants to remain invisible, Kisada thought.
"You have done a remarkable job, Taka-san," the Great Bear said. "The ice in the bay will still be impassable for another fortnight. Simply be sure that all modifications are completed by that time."
Mainland roads would be nearly open by the time the floes surrounding Shima Chuto De were thin enough for the Crab to put to sea. The other daimyo would come looking for him as soon as weather allowed. The debacle at Beiden Pass made the Crab the clear first target for all the clans. What better way to show worth to the emperor than by destroying the "renegade" who sacrificed his own son to the Dark God and allied his clan with the empire's most ancient enemies?
Looking down at the beach again, Kisada saw his proud, tall samurai working side by side with misshapen green goblins, and giving orders to shuffling undead zombies—some of whom wore Crab armor. It turned his stomach.
"Use every tool available," the daimyo mumbled disgustedly to himself. "All that matters is our success."
"Indeed!" agreed Taka making Kisada jump—he'd forgotten the merchant was still there. "Your navy will be ready to sail on the first safe outgoing tide! And it will sail on to victory!"
"To victory," Kisada replied. But at what cost?
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Kisada knelt before the tiny altar that used to belong to his youngest son—it was the one remembrance the Great Bear had saved from Sukune's tent when they retreated from Beiden Pass last fall. He would have liked to have taken the young man's go set or some of his favorite essays on the art of warfare, but there was neither time nor space to spare in the rush to evacuate before Toturi's forces descended on the beaten Crab army.
"I did nothing wrong!" he said. "I thought of the clan and the empire. I gave you the chance you always wanted. I made the decisions that had to be made."
He stared at the altar as though he expected it to answer. Although Kisada had faith in his ancestors, he rarely bothered to pray. He believed the kami helped those who helped themselves, so the most sincere form of devotion was action. But it was not a divine voice he hoped to hear this morning. It was the voice of his lost son.
"You were a good son—a good samurai. You were always prepared, and proud, to give your life in the service of the clan. This act may have been against everything you believed, but it will help lead the Crab to glory. Surely you can see that this is a good thing.
Certainly your spirit is proud to have played such an integral part in this victory."
The altar offered no comfort It simply sat there as it always had.
"Please," Kisada begged. "Please, give me a sign. I have done nothing wrong. I just need to know that you recognize this!"
The Great Bear leaped back as a purple cloud erupted in the center of the altar. Smoke quickly covered the tiny wooden structure and spread throughout the tent. It smelled foul and stagnant, like a swamp in the heat of summer.
When the smoke cleared, Kisada saw a white rice paper scroll case. It bore a round wax seal depicting a pair of crossed crab claws—the mon of the Kuni family. He opened the scroll and read it aloud.
"Master Hida Kisada—
"The Crane and the Unicorn are on the march, but heavy snows in the mountain passes will delay the Dragon for at least another week.
"The clans bicker heatedly about what to do about the Crab assault on Beiden Pass. The Lion want to absolve the clan but hunt you down as a criminal, Kisada-sama, and bring your head back on the point of a yari. The Crane wish the emperor to assess some penalty for your actions—preferably a transfer of Crab lands to Crane control. The Unicorn and Dragon seem simply to want to crush our army on the field of battle. The Phoenix, typically, want only to better understand the nature of our alliance with the Shadow-lands and do not endorse one course of action over another."
Kisada laughed. Of all the major Rokugani clans, he had the least respect for the Phoenix. How like them to wallow in indecision while the other clans got things done.
"So far, none of the clans seem to be aware that you have left our ancestral home, let alone where it is you have gone. All eyes turn to the Carpenter's Wall, and all feet march that way. It should be nearly a month until the emperor hears that the Crab are not where we ought to be. I presume that before this time your plans will near fruition.
"May the kami of the sea speed you to our rendezvous, and the swift attainment of your karmic reward.
"Your faithful servant, Kuni Yori."
Kisada did not like that final turn of phrase—"karmic reward." It might have been a blessing for a job well done or a curse saying that transgressions would be punished. Kisada would have been happier if he could have at least looked into Yori's eyes as he spoke those words.
Kuni Yori had spent the winter at his lonely tower in the shadow of the Great Wall, continuing his research and experiments. His ability to spy magically on the other clans' winter courts was a great advantage, and other shugenja's abilities to do the same to the court at Kyuden Hida was what made the army's winter in the field absolutely necessary. As long as no one knew where Kisada was, he could not be spied upon.
Kisada rose and opened the tent flap to let in fresh air. The purple smoke lingered unpleasantly.
After a while it became clear that though the smoke's scent was gone from most of the tent, it clung stubbornly to the wood of the altar. Kisada ordered his page to bring him warm water, and he washed the tiny dais, to no effect. Even the scent of the prayer incense did nothing to
cut the gagging odor. Finally, he realized that he had no choice but to remove from his tent this last physical reminder of Sukune.
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"Faster! Faster! Our destiny awaits!" Yakamo beat on the ship's rail as though he could urge the boat on as he would a horse. His right hand only made painful slapping noises. His claw landed with metallic clangs that sent shudders through the hull and splinters flying through the air.
Kisada placed a hand on his son's shoulder.
Yakamo whirled with fire in his eyes. For a second he seemed not to recognize the Great Bear and reached for the tetsubo that was slung across his shoulder. As quickly as it came, though, the madness passed. Yakamo's face flushed with embarrassment, and he bowed to his father.
"My apologies, Tono," he said quietly. "I am merely anxious to see you receive your karmic reward."
Kisada snapped his head to look direcdy at Yakamo.
"Why did you say that?"
"What?"
"Those words—karmic reward. Why did you use them?"
Yakamo shrugged. "Because I believe it is your karma to be emperor. It is reward for your selfless devotion to the Clan and to the empire."
Kisada nodded, but in his heart he was not convinced.
Yakamo was acting more and more brashly recently. He had always been an aggressive samurai—he came by that trait honestly, from Kisada—but since the beginning of this campaign he seemed to become increasingly restless. The winter layover had been difficult. At first Yakamo fought occasional practice duels with one of the generals or some other skilled warrior. Soon this became a daily ritual. Eventually the young Hida was not content with a single duel. He spent the last month of the winter stalking from campsite to campsite, challenging anyone he met to a duel. He seemed to live for battle.
At first, the Great Bear thought that his son was practicing the way of the berserker, like his cousin Amoro. Kisada soon saw that Yakamo's madness was different than his cousin's.
Amoro loved the thrill of battle, of being surrounded by enemies as far as the eye could see. Yakamo, on the other hand, just wanted to hurt someone. He derived no pleasure from his actions, as if he were merely answering a primal call.
Yakamo was quickly ceasing to be a worthy heir to Kisada's power.
The Great Bear stopped his reverie. His head grew heavy with guilt. He peered over the railing into the sea below.
He is acting just the way I have for the past year, Kisada thought. I have been chasing my own dreams of power, using the clan to get what I selfishly wanted. The Crab will do anything for me. They will lay down their lives because they believe in my vision. My own son died for no reason other than that I asked him to.
"There it is!" Yakamo's voice rousted Kisada from his melancholy reverie.
Looking up, the Great Bear saw the shoreline and a flat stretch of beach. In the distance, the lights of Otosan Uchi twinkled like stars in the early evening sky.
ASSAULT ON OTOSAN UCH!
By nightfall I will no longer be your daimyo!" Wild cheers erupted from the gathered samurai. "Tomorrow and every sunrise after this one I will be Hida the First, Emperor of Rokugan!"
Sound washed over the Great Bear with a physical force he'd never felt before. For a moment, Kisada imagined himself an ascetic standing naked underneath a mountain waterfall. The cheers from his people—his people— were like that cold, pounding water, sharpening his senses and bringing him in tune with the world around him. He could feel every pebble beneath his feet, taste the sweat of brave warriors in the air, and see victory lingering just beyond the horizon. His radiant future lit the predawn sky.
"Resistance at the capital should be minimal, but make no mistake: They will resist. The people of Otosan Uchi have been lied to for so many years, they will not know the truth when
they hear it. They will not recognize that we are doing what is best not only for them, but for all of Rokugan!"
Another cheer went up.
Kisada hated to think of his honorable warriors cutting down a makeshift militia of merchants and stable boys. The city would, of course, muster whatever defenses it could, but Kisada could not let anything or anyone stand in his way. He thought again about Sukune, but without guilt.
"This is my karma! This is our destiny!"
Destiny would not be denied.
The Great Bear had always trusted his instincts before. Why should he doubt them now? Everything was going according to plan. Using the merchant shallows up the coast, the army landed within a day's march of the capital, and no one was the wiser. Toturi's army was busy on the other side of the empire, scouring the Wall in search of the Crab. Otosan Uchi stood ripe for the plucking.
Still the Great Bear hesitated. His son was dead, but his death brought about the union of powers that would make Kisada's ultimate triumph possible. In giving the order that took his son's life, Kisada put in place all the pieces necessary to achieve his karma. And when he sat on the throne and peace reigned over the empire, he would be proven right.
But if he was wrong, the price of his arrogance and greed would be failure, death, and dishonor—not just for himself but for all who followed him.
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Kisada stood atop a hillock overlooking the plains of Otosan Uchi. Rather than being unguarded, the capital city stood defiantly behind an army in tan and brown armor. The Lion Clan stood watch over the city, not in a protective ring, but in a single formation facing directly toward the hill on which the Great Bear stood.
They knew the Crab were coming. Somehow they knew—and they were ready.
"How did they know?"
"It does not matter," croaked Yakamo no Oni. The creature had traveled with the army since they left Beiden Pass, but Kisada could never find it when he wanted to. He had no idea how a creature that large could hide so well. Still, it had the singularly annoying habit of showing up whenever it had something it wanted to say. "They will not stop you, Father."
"I am not your father!" snapped the Great Bear.
The monstrous creature looked more and more like Yakamo every day. The ropy sinews of its body formed an exact replica of his son's posture, musculature, and even his armor. Sometimes Kisada half expected the creature to lift off the skin that formed its "helmet" and reveal a hideous version of Yakamo's face.
"We all are your sons, Tono," said Kuni Yori. "As daimyo of our clan, you are father to us all—at least figuratively." The shugenja was still Kisada's closest adviser though his experimentation had mutilated him terribly and left him with an oozing bloody wreck for a face. The Great Bear was not squeamish, but the fact that Yori continued to spew his overly polite nonsense through that ruined mouth was almost more than he could stand.
"And didn't you teach me that every Crab is my brother?" asked Yakamo. "We live and die as one family. My namesake has joined us in every way he can—I am proud to call him brother."
"It is not a member of our clan. It is not a Crab! None of those creatures are Crab!"
Yakamo and Yori exchanged worried looks.
"Would you like us to go, Kisada-sama?" Yakamo no Oni asked with painful politeness. "If we are not welcome in your family, we will leave. There is nothing more important than family, Kisada. The more I learn from my connection with your son, the more I understand that truth."
Hai! The word was on Kisada's lips. One simple word, and every last goblin, skeleton, ogre, and zombie would leave with their unholy master. More than anything, Kisada wanted to be rid of the oni—the creature who took the name of one of his sons and the life of the other. Worse, the creature had not taken anything it was not freely offered by Kisada himself.
Hai! One word and all the nagging doubts would go away— the constant reminder of Sukune's death and display on that foul standard.
Hai! The word that would heal the Crab Clan of all the perversions heaped on it in the past three years.
Then the Great Bear looked behind him. His army stretched away as far as the eye could see. Fully half of th
at army owed their allegiance to Fu Leng. Kisada knew that with only half an army, he might be able to take Otosan Uchi, but he would never hold it.
"lie," Kisada said quietly. "No, I do not wish you to leave." The Great Bear's shoulders slumped as he spoke.
"You wish us to join your family, then?" Yakamo no Oni asked.
"Hai," said Kisada even more quietiy.
The oni smiled. "Good. You have made the right decision, Kisada-sama. Kicking and screaming in protest, yes, but you have made the right decision. And I think you will see that before too very long."
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"Now this feels right!" The Great Bear was so eager for battle he could scarcely stand still while his attendants double-checked the straps on his armor. After months of leading his army like a "proper general" (or, as Kisada liked to call such samurai, a "frightened old man"), he was returning to the only place in the world he felt truly at home—-in battle. He had been on the road and in the command tent for so long that he had ceased to keep his armor in combat-ready condition. Now, the leather straps biting into the muscled flesh of his arms and legs made his heart beat faster.
"Tono!" Kuni Yori entered the tent without being invited. The man grew bolder every day. Perhaps the fact that no one wanted to look at the shugenja long enough to question him made Yori think he could come and go as he pleased.
Once Kisada sat on the Emerald Throne, he would disabuse his adviser of that notion. "What is it?"
"The Lion forces stand ready to meet ours on the field of battle."
"Idiot!" spat the Great Bear. It was never too early to begin putting Yori back in his place. "I know that."
"Hai, Tono!" Yori said, though it seemed he wanted to say something more acerbic. "But a rider bearing the imperial mon just came out of Otosan Uchi and is even now visiting the Lion command tent."
"What?" thundered the Great Bear, shoving past to stride from the tent flap. "Let me see!"