Outlaw:Champions of Kamigawa mg-1

by Scott McGough

  "I am sorry, sensei. But you cannot stop me."

  Choryu splayed his fingers wide, palms facing backward. Sharp-Ear rushed forward, confident that he could bowl the wizard over before he could summon a stream of water.

  But Choryu raised not a stream, but a sheet of water that materialized like a wall between the wizard and the fox-man. Sharp-Ear splashed into the vertical curtain of blue liquid. It was thicker, denser than real water.

  The kitsune dug his toes into the wooden floor and tried to surge forward. The thick blue water held him in place, however. It still flowed and burbled around him, even waving the fur on his arms back and forth like a lazy field of undersea grass. But Sharp-Ear himself was frozen in place, unrestrained but unable to make his limbs function.

  "You won't drown," Choryu said. "Nor will you hunger. You are caught in a field that represents the precise moment when ice transforms to water. You are fixed, like the crystal, but flowing, like the droplet."

  Sharp-Ear had not taken a deep breath before entering the trap, but his lungs did not ache. Tentatively, he tried to let his air out, but nothing happened and nothing within him changed.

  "It will preserve and protect you for weeks, months if need be. But the princess will be back in a matter of days. I will release you then, and make amends. Forgive me, sensei."

  Sharp-Ear watched in silent misery as Choryu painted several powerful charms on his door. The white-haired wizard blew out the lantern, bowed to Sharp-Ear, and pulled the heavy door shut behind him.

  A whitish blue light crawled around the edge of the door in the doorjamb, making a complete circuit before sputtering out like a wet candle. Sharp-Ear was left alone, helpless, and quite possibly forgotten in the darkness.

  His sister would certainly kill him if this went on much longer. He had best escape and salvage what he could of his reputation for responsibility.

  *****

  Sharp-Ear waited for several hours, until the square of sunlight from Choryu's window had crawled to the edge of his liquid prison. The sun would set in a short while, but by then he would have gotten what he needed.

  Choryu had obligingly explained the nature of the trap in which Sharp-Ear now languished, but the kitsune would have escaped the same way no matter what stasis/paralysis/immobility spell he had dredged out of the academy archives.

  Sharp-Ear reminded himself not to underestimate the young wizard again. He had been much faster and much more powerful than the kitsune expected. But he was still young and foolish enough to trap a defeated foe rather than finish him off, and almost every trap involved keeping the target still.

  The kitsune occupied a unique position among Kamigawa's tribal society. They straddled the social world of commerce and civilization on one side and the solitary realm of harmonious nature on the other. Kitsune clerics healed using human medicines and mystic ritual alike; kitsune warriors came as disciplined samurai bushi on the battlefield and as free-roaming independent rangers in the deep woods. They were gregarious among their own kind but elusive and sometimes off-putting to outsiders.

  One thing they excelled at was motion. Their minds and bodies were fast, lithe, and graceful. They lived long lives, matured slowly, and existed in near-constant motion most of the time. In a word, Sharp-Ear, thought, we are excitable.

  Sharp-Ear repeated the words to a powerful mantra in his mind as he watched the sunlight slide into the edge of his prison. Sunlight had warmth, but light itself had motion, energy, vitality. He was trapped in a transitive moment when one thing becomes another… with a little light, energy, and motion, he could complete the transformation.

  "Dance," Sharp-Ear thought to the countless drops of blue liquid that flowed through the edge of the sunlit square. His vision fogged as the water seemed to boil around him. In his mind he repeated his mantra, focusing his mind, body, and spirit on channeling the power of the Great Sun Spirit.

  Sharp-Ear heard a hiss and a watery pop, and then he fell forward in a great splash of cold blue water. Coughing, sodden, his eyes alight with triumph, Sharp-Ear stretched out his hand and reached into the vertical shaft of sunlight nearby.

  "Thank you, old friend." The fox-man sprang to his feet, shook himself, and went to examine the charms on the door while he planned his next move.

  The water wizard was correct in that Sharp-Ear's voice did not hold much sway with the rulers of Towabara. If he tried to report the princess before she left, she could simply deny it. If he tried after she left, she would likely be returned and punished severely… assuming she wasn't waylaid on the road and ransomed by bandits. And then not only would Sharp-Ear himself be in the soup for letting her go, but Choryu would have succeeded in the first part of his misguided effort to help Michiko. Sharp-Ear was far too wet and far too annoyed to allow that.

  His mind fairly whirred as he read the symbols on the door and traced his finger around the doorjamb. He doubted he could talk Michiko out of the trip as easily as the wizard had talked her into it. If confronted, she would most likely agree with whatever Sharp-Ear said then find some other way to get out undetected.

  He could allow her to go, catch up with her himself, and chaperone the remainder of the trip. At least that way she would have a proper guardian. Pearl-Ear would tear his tail off, but Michiko would be somewhat better protected.

  The lithe kitsune-bito bounced up onto Choryu's table, pushed a square of ceiling aside, and darted up into the rafters. The wise thing to do would be to quietly sabotage the outing, make the travelers think that the spirits frowned on such a journey.

  Sharp-Ear scowled, wrinkling his muzzle. Short of hobbling every horse in the Daimyo's stable, he didn't see how he could prevent them from traveling. Hobbling Michiko herself did cross his mind, but he rejected the idea and decided not to tell anyone he'd had it. He could put a sleeping draught in the wizard's morning tea, but that merely delayed the problem. They would try again as soon as they were all up to it.

  He tried to follow Pearl-Ear's example, to think like her. What would a proper guardian, a responsible one, do? Sadly, a huge cause of the distance between himself and his sister was the fact that they thought nothing alike. It was like asking a fish to think like a bird, and he gave up that line of thought almost as soon as he opened it.

  Then the fox-man's eyes sparkled. An idea, born from pieces of all his other ideas cobbled together, was taking shape in his mind. He knew where they were going. Perhaps he couldn't stop them, but he could steer them toward the safest possible course.

  Sharp-Ear nodded happily. This was an energetic solution, one worthy of a kitsune trickster. His erstwhile students might think of it as a journey, but in reality it was just another training session in Sensei Sharp-Ear's dojo.

  CHAPTER 10

  In the cool, dark, predawn mist, Princess Michiko rode into Eigan Town proper for the first time since she was a child. Concealed beneath one of Riko's student robes and flanked by Riko and Choryu, Michiko kept her head bowed as they rode past the sentries. Traffic was light, but there were enough merchants and pilgrims moving to and from the tower to keep anyone from taking a closer look at the three student wizards headed back to Minamo.

  Her heart hammered in her chest until they cleared the north ridge and the torches on the tower walls and guard houses went out of sight. She could still see the white tower stretching high into the clouds, but to anyone looking back down, she was just another traveler.

  She and Riko had planned their route very carefully. They would skirt the northwest edge of the Jukai Forest, following one of the less-traveled paths that would also keep them far from the criminals to the west and the bandits to the south. They would remain on the border between Towabara and kitsune-bito territory, where dangers were few and every citizen was a loyal supporter of Konda. If they ran into trouble and had to reveal themselves, they would find no shortage of volunteers eager to assist the Daimyo's daughter.

  By sunrise they were looking at the western boundary of the Jukai, with an almost unbr
oken curtain of cedar trunks and boughs that stretched into the horizon. The road was wide enough for them to ride side by side, and as they had hoped, there were no other travelers to be seen.

  Riko seemed nervous and Choryu excited, which did not surprise Michiko. Of the three, Riko had been the least interested in traveling incognito. She and Michiko were closer than sisters, and the student archer was clearly concerned about the dangers they would face. Choryu, on the other hand, seemed to live for exploration and adventure. He approached this trip as a challenge to be met, a chance to experience something new. He was especially animated this morning, almost jittery as they stole away and glancing back long after they were clear of Eiganjo.

  Michiko stole a glance at Choryu from beneath her hood. He was handsome, with strong features and those dazzlingly clear blue eyes. His close-cropped white hair made him look even more manic, however, as if there was too much thought energy in his skull and it had bleached the hair above it and fused it into points.

  Choryu was a year ahead of Riko and close to graduating. He would soon be a full-fledged water mage and an assistant instructor at the Academy. Riko said that he had focused on his spellcraft almost exclusively, advancing higher and faster than normal at the expense of every other subject. Riko herself adopted a wider focus, unsure of where her true interests lay.

  Privately, Michiko thought Riko's archery was every bit as advanced as Choryu's magic, and she had told her friend so. She had not mentioned this to Choryu for fear of offending the proud young man. She liked both of her friends from the Academy, and at times she could see herself as a combination of the two. Perhaps she should consider enrolling at Minamo. It would help her to choose a discipline to focus on and to show her father that she was competent on her own.

  They rode on, stopping only for a midday meal and to water the horses. Michiko relaxed more with each passing mile. The smell of cedar and the feel of fresh air on her face nourished her-she had not realized how stale and stifling it was in the tower. She hoped they would see some wildlife on the way. Besides horses and her father's dog, the tower had very little in the way of animal life.

  Michiko's brow furrowed as she rode. There was very little life of any kind in the tower these days. Her father was always locked away in the upper reaches of the tower. The survivors of kami attacks were all dour, silent, and traumatized. Even the tower staff and the armies of Towabara looked wan and drained, almost overwhelmed by the fighting and the influx of refugees.

  She straightened in her saddle. She was doing the right thing. When she was little, her nurse referred to her as "Towabara's hope for the future." If that were truly her destiny, then perhaps this journey was the first step toward it. Even if she didn't find the answers she sought, merely making the attempt would change her, teach her, maybe even redefine her. Michiko the sheltered princess was of no use during a Kami War. She was resolved to becoming someone who mattered, someone who could help.

  "You see?" Choryu said, when the sun started to set. "We're halfway there and we've barely seen another soul."

  "Halfway is the most dangerous point," Riko replied. "Our starting point and our destination are equally far away. We're completely removed from assistance at either end."

  Choryu smiled, his eyes twinkling in the dusk. "Well, don't say that. You'll jinx us."

  "Worse than you did by gloating at the halfway mark?"

  "My friends," Michiko interrupted. "I am pleased with our progress, but I won't be comfortable until we get where we're going. How much longer can we ride before we have to rest for the night?"

  "There's plenty of daylight left," Choryu said. "If we press on and pick up the pace, we can probably make it to the edge of falls."

  "And the Academy is at the top of the falls."

  "Close enough," Riko said. "But reaching the edge of the falls doesn't mean we're there. It's the largest river in Kamigawa, and by far the tallest and widest waterfall. On horseback, it will take at least another day to climb the path."

  "It would only take half a day by boat."

  "We can't rely on a boat being available. Nor can we expect a ferryman to keep our presence a secret." "If we can hire a ferryman," Choryu smiled, "we won't need to keep our presence a secret. I would even send word to the headmaster that Princess Michiko has arrived."

  "I would prefer to arrive unannounced," Michiko said.

  "Excuse me, Princess. I only meant-"

  "No need to explain," Michiko cut in. "Let's just keep going and see how far we go."

  "Of course. Riko?"

  "Agreed. But when it gets dark, I want you to help me weave a concealment spell so we can spread out our bedrolls and get some sleep. I don't fancy someone stumbling across us in the middle of the night."

  The resumed riding in silence. Michiko took in the view of the forest to the east, straining to memorize every leaf. The rich browns and deep greens of the trees were such a striking contrast to the dull, dusty gloom that hung over her father's tower. Kamigawa was so colorful, and she had seen so little of it.

  On the west sat the vast plains of Towabara, once fertile but now dry and lifeless due to three years of drought and two decades of war. Far in the distance, she could see the vast, rolling dust clouds that scoured the flatlands. She had heard soldiers tell of giving their swords a mirror shine just by leaving them out to be polished by the wind-driven grit.

  As she mused, Michiko followed the dust storm's movement. It rolled over the plains like a cloud, making its way steadily west.

  A strong breeze kicked up, rushing from the plains toward the forest, and Michiko squinted against it. Choryu's horse coughed, and Riko pulled her hood over her face.

  "It's just a squall," Choryu called, raising his voice to be heard. "It will pass."

  "Let's hope so," Riko said from under her hood. "I may ask you to conjure me a jug of water when it does."

  "It's coming toward us," Michiko said.

  "What?"

  With cold dread in her throat, Michiko pointed at the distant dust cloud. "When the wind changed, the storm changed too. It's heading right for us."

  Riko spurred her horse and came up beside Michiko. "Are you sure?"

  "See for yourself. It's picking up speed."

  "She's right," Choryu said. He patted his nervous mount, reassuring the beast. "It's bearing down on this spot."

  "I don't like this," Riko said.

  Choryu laughed. "It's just a storm, I keep telling you."

  "It's a storm that changed direction."

  "Changed direction with the wind."

  "The wind felt natural. That storm feels anything but." She turned to Michiko. "The kami attacks have been spreading, haven't they?"

  The princess nodded.

  "And there was one in the tower recently, wasn't there?"

  "Yes," Michiko said. She grabbed her friend by the arm. "Can you and Choryu shield us?"

  The student wizards looked at each other, their expressions dismal.

  "No," Riko said.

  Choryu looked nervous for the first time since they'd cleared the tower gates. "I could conjure a flash flood to take us away from here," he offered.

  "That's more likely to kill us as the dust storm," Riko snapped. "Not to mention the horses. We're better off taking cover in the trees. Once the storm passes, we can return to the trail."

  The rolling dust cloud was now a few hundred yards away. It would reach them in a matter of minutes.

  "Princess?" Choryu spoke gingerly. "I would not recommend going into the trees. There are-"

  "Hold." Michiko held up a finger, her eyes still fixed on the storm. The student wizards followed her gaze.

  Together, they watched as the dust cloud approached a large, lone tree. It was an old cedar, as thick as a person's waist, from a time long ago when the forest reached farther into the plains. As the storm cloud approached, the wind tore each of the cedar's leaves away and tossed them into the churning cloud of dust and debris. Then the cloud engulfed the t
ree, and they heard a terrifyingly loud crack as fragments of the ancient cedar were hurled back into the maelstrom.

  "Into the forest," Michiko said. She prodded her horse, which sprang forward.

  "Michiko!"

  "Princess, wait!" Riko and Choryu followed, bringing their horses into a gallop and falling in behind Michiko.

  The princess called out as she rode. "Deep as we can get before the winds catch us! One tree couldn't stop it, but perhaps the entire forest can." Free from the need to stand and take aim, the princess rode like the expert she was, putting even more distance between her and her friends.

  Michiko broke through the tree line, weaving her steed in between the ancient cedars. There was no trail to follow, but she was covering ground quickly, charging deeper into the Jukai. Riko and Choryu were far behind, but she could hear them yelling after her.

  Michiko ignored their cries and spurred her horse on. She could hear the roar of the wind and felt the first stinging specks of dust through her academy robes.

  They were well into the forest when the dust storm caught them. Wind and grit filled Michiko's ears, blinded her eyes, and almost lifted her from her saddle. She heard Riko calling for her to wait, and Choryu simply shouting her name.

  She pulled up on the reins, but the horse refused to slow down. Foam flew from its lips into Michiko's face as the fear-maddened steed ran for its life.

  They had been so careful, she thought. They had prepared for sentries and bandits, but now they were in real danger from one of the most common weather phenomena in all Towabara.

  The wind's fury seemed to double, and Michiko lost sight of anything but the inside of her eyelids. Dust coated her throat and nostrils. She struggled to breathe. The horse beneath her was charging at full gallop, and it was all she could do to hang on.

  The horse whinnied in terror and fell away beneath her. The reins were torn from her hands and Michiko could feel herself still sailing forward, tumbling gently as she soared. With her eyes still clogged with dust and tears, she could only wait for the inevitable impact and hope that she survived it. She was amazed she had traveled this long without hitting a tree.