Outlaw:Champions of Kamigawa mg-1

by Scott McGough

  The roar of the wind suddenly ceased, and Michiko felt as if she were floating, carried along by tender hands. She no longer felt the wind on her flesh, but she still could not open her eyes. If Riko and Choryu still called her name, she could not hear it, nor could she feel sting of the wind-driven grit.

  Uncertain if she were conscious or dreaming, Michiko felt herself slipping away, lost in a void of quiet darkness.

  *****

  She awoke to the sound of game birds calling to each other.

  Michiko started and sat upright, squinting against the slanted beams of sunlight that pierced the forest canopy. It has been dusk when the storm hit, but now it seemed like midday. How many sunrises had she missed while she was asleep?

  Nearby, a horse whinnied. She spied her mount, who was absently munching on a patch of tall grass.

  She could scarcely believe her luck. This animal had been in headlong flight when Michiko lost consciousness. Either her father's stables produced exceptionally clever animals, or the kami that protected Towabara were watching over her.

  She rose on unsteady legs and made her way to the horse. It snorted and shook its head as she took up the reins.

  Michiko paused to remember the horse's name, then whispered, "Thank you, Kaze-san."

  Kaze snorted again and offered her the top of his head. Michiko obligingly scratched between his ears.

  As she patted her mount, Michiko scanned the forest for any sign of Riko or Choryu. She cupped her hands and called as loudly as she could, but she got no response. She felt cold, a lonely ache in her stomach, but Michiko tried to buoy her own spirits. She had survived the storm, somehow, so they must have as well. She tried not to think of Riko lying wounded and alone, calling Michiko's name. She tried not to think of Choryu, scouring the endless woods all the way back to the tower.

  The real question was what to do next. She did not recognize where she was, and she had no idea how she had gotten there. She knew they had been traveling northeast, but after her long nap she wasn't sure where she was in relation to the Academy or her father's tower.

  She decided to lead the horse in an ever-widening circle until she found her friends, the road, or something else that could tell her where she was. She was carrying enough food and water for three days, so she would not starve until then. She had her bow and a full quiver of arrows, so she was not defenseless. She was alone, a condition that usually eluded her as the Daimyo's daughter. Rather than afraid, Michiko felt exhilarated by a sense of purpose and the prospect of achieving something no one expected her to attempt.

  Michiko began to walk, marking the trees she passed with the short knife she carried. She walked for hours without seeing another living thing. She shouted herself almost hoarse with no reply but a ghostly echo among the trees. She felt she was moving farther away from her friends, but she kept walking, leading her docile steed behind her.

  The lost princess marked more trees and expanded her circle, thinking of her friends and their joint decision to travel to the Academy. Where Riko had been passionate about Michiko's opportunity to effect change in Kamigawa, Choryu had been militant about her responsibility to do so. His eyes flashed when he spoke of it, and the sheer force of his personality was at least as powerful as his arguments.

  She came to an unfamiliar clearing, paused to look around, and sighed. Her search must have covered more than a mile, and there was still no sign of the wizards. She faced northeast, orienting herself against the sun, and mounted her horse.

  If Choryu and Riko were here, she could guess what they would say. They would tell her to press on for Minamo and complete the journey. To return to the tower would be worse than never having left. Her father would rage and she would have armed escorts at her heels forever after. The only thing that would make that bearable would be if she could produce something concrete for the people of Towabara.

  Michiko raised her heels to prod her horse forward, but stopped in mid-kick. Across the clearing, in the shade of a giant cypress, there flashed a yellow light. It sputtered at first, like a newly lit candle, but then it shone bright and strong. The tiny glow drifted up and out of the shadows, but Michiko could still see it plainly, even in direct sunlight. It floated to the center of the clearing and hovered there, pulsating like a beacon.

  The princess smiled, tears of relief in her eyes. She had been driven from the path by a rogue storm, but now the spirits had sent her a sign. Lady Pearl-Ear had often told her kitsune-bito folklore about foxfire, hovering flames that led lost travelers to safety. Perhaps this was foxfire in action. Perhaps Towabara's patron kami of Sun and Justice had taken pity on her. Perhaps they were rewarding her initiative or even encouraging her to continue.

  She had never spoken of it to anyone but Riko, but Michiko had heard whispers of a dire spirit curse that hung over her father's tower. She was uplifted by the presence of the friendly light, grateful for the good will of the foxfire and the kami who sent it. She was kept hidden behind stone walls in Eiganjo Castle, but here, in the depths of the Jukai Forest, the spirit world smiled upon her.

  The foxfire glow bobbed up and down, then drifted toward the far side of the clearing. Michiko prodded her horse and it trotted forward a few yards.

  The orb of light glowed brighter. It withdrew further.

  Michiko encouraged her mount and followed another few yards.

  Then the orb passed through a line of cedars, out of sight. Michiko brought her horse to a trot, and as they passed through the same trees she saw the orb ahead. It was traveling northeast, slowly enough that she could follow it but quickly enough that she had to keep moving to do so.

  Michiko stared at the foxfire light as she rode, hypnotized by its soothing glow and comforted by its company. It was probably a mere spell effect, but whatever it was, it signified that someone was aware of her situation and was trying to help. Even if it hadn't been sent by Riko and Choryu, it was leading her in the right direction.

  The princess guided her horse through the forest, keeping one eye on the spirit guide and one on the trees around her. As she rode forward into her future, she wanted to impress upon her memory the beauty and danger that surrounded her in the present.

  CHAPTER 11

  Riko was beside herself. Her anxiety showed in her face, in her body posture, in every visible aspect of her being. Choryu himself fought against a sickening chill in his guts, struggling to keep his jaw set and his eyes resolute.

  He had utterly failed. Michiko was gone and he had failed her, failed Riko, failed his masters back at Minamo. If he couldn't recover the princess and escort her safely to the academy, he would be casting his own life and that of everyone he knew into the most dire peril.

  "We have to keep looking," Riko said for the hundredth time. Choryu had stopped listening to her long ago. So long as the archer kept searching, she could say whatever she liked.

  Where had Michiko gone? They were all within sight and sound of each other, but that cursed storm hit and seemed to swallow the princess whole. When Choryu and Riko dug out from under the dust, they found they were on the opposite side of the road-they had followed Michiko east and wound up to the west.

  They retraced their steps and found the place where the storm had driven them from the road. There were three sets of hoofprints leading off the road and into the forest for a hundred yards or so, and then all three disappeared. It was like the storm lifted the horses into the air and threw them each in different directions.

  Off to his right, Choryu heard Riko calling for Michiko. His fellow student was distraught about what had happened, but she didn't know half the extent of their predicament. She had no idea.

  Choryu quietly slipped down into a trench and then jogged about a hundred yards until he was well clear of Riko. He glanced around, spread his open palms out wide, and began to chant.

  "Ichikawa, spirit of the great river," he chanted softly. "Your power flows through me. Hear my words, kami of the rushing waves. Your power flows through me."


  Be quiet, a cold, hollow voice said. It felt cold in his ears, so cold it burned.

  Where is Princess Michiko?

  "Lost," Choryu whispered. "I was bringing her to the school as instructed. We were driven apart by a freak storm."

  Fool. Who told you to take her from the tower?

  "M-my instructions came from Headmaster Hisoka himself. I saw the scroll with his seal upon it."

  Hisoka takes his orders from me. From now on, you will do nothing that I did not instruct you to do.

  "No," Choryu gulped. "I will obey. What must I do?"

  Retrieve her and complete your assignment. Under no circumstances let her venture too deeply into the forest. The snakes are restless and their kami is poised to interfere. Keep her away from the spirits of nature and the forest-dwellers who worship them. Else all we have worked for will come undone.

  Protect her, water wizard. Without her, you are less than meaningless.

  "But how can I find her? Where shall I look?"

  The bodiless voice sighed in exasperation. Who were her guardians in the tower?

  "Her father?" Choryu hesitated. "Kitsune," he said, with greater conviction. "Foxfolk."

  Then seek her to the north where the foxes dwell. She will most likely be drawn there. Whatever Finds her will also find you. Pray that it is benevolent.

  "Choryu!" Riko's voice sounded near panic even at this great distance.

  "Over here," the water wizard called. "Come quick! I think I've figured out which way she went!"

  Choryu waited as Riko came crashing through the underbrush. The cold, patrician voice lingered in his ears. He was afraid for Michiko. He was afraid for the future of Kamigawa.

  And under the cloud of his unseen patron's ire, he feared greatly for himself.

  "Michiko," he whispered. "Stay safe. We're coming for you."

  *****

  Michiko rode throughout the day and on into the evening. The shining orb always stayed about twenty yards ahead of her, but it remained in sight at all times. She had dined on trail bread and fruit as she rode, and she'd drained half her goatskin of water. She felt rested, relaxed, and eager to ride on.

  As the sun disappeared and darkness settled over the forest, Michiko was torn. The foxfire was waiting up ahead, impatiently flashing at her. She could easily follow it in the gloom, but she was not willing to ride or walk Kaze over terrain she could not see. One misstep could result in a broken leg for the horse or worse, especially if he fell on her.

  "I must wait here," she called. "I must wait until morning." She slid down from the horse and began unrolling her pack.

  The orb shot toward her like a bird, stopping a few yards from her mount. It circled overhead, flaring from near-blinding light to almost complete darkness.

  "You must wait with me," she said. "Or go on alone." She pulled an apple from her supplies, cut off a section, and held it out for Kaze.

  The glowing orb buzzed furiously, flickering among the cedar boughs overhead. When Michiko spread out her bedroll and started to build a small fire, the foxfire floated down, illuminating her efforts. Once the blaze was going strong, the ball of light seemed to fasten itself to a tree branch, hanging like a lantern over the princess's solitary bivouac.

  Michiko smiled, careful to keep her back to the orb. She was still following the foxfire on faith, but she was doing so according to her schedule. It could go on without her, but it would not.

  As the campfire crackled, Michiko's thoughts drifted to the spirits. Some kami were still friendly to the citizens of Towabara, despite twenty years of strife between the human and spirit worlds. She wondered if the great kami were like the leaders of great nations, with their own individual goals and spheres of influence. If one kami attacked a village, would another come to the villagers' aid? Or were they like the tribes of Towabara, powerful in their own right but subordinate to a hierarchical leader like her father?

  When it came to honoring the spirits, there were almost as many schools of thought as there were spirits to worship. She practiced the rituals and spoke the prayers that were common to her father's tribe, but her studies had exposed her to the songs of the forest druids, the group meditation of Minamo sages, and the complicated symbols of kanji magicians. Nearly everything in Kamigawa had a spirit, and it seemed that everyone had a different method for invoking those spirits.

  Michiko cut herself a branch and wedged it into the ground. She hung a small pot from the end of the stick, poured more of her water into the pot, and then positioned the pot over the fire. The water quickly began to boil, and Michiko scattered a handful of tea leaves into it.

  The most powerful kami, such as Towabara's patron spirits, could be invoked to affect the physical world. Her father's generals prayed to Cleansing Fire before they rode into battle and performed rites to gain favor from the Sun. She had heard both spirits manifested when her father won the climactic battle to unify the tribes of Towabara. Also, Lady Pearl-Ear taught her that the cedar spirits worshiped by the kitsune-bito would aid some and hamper others, based on how the humans treated the forest.

  But until the Kami War started, it was unheard of for a kami to attack the physical world. Absent invocation, prayer, or ritual, the kami were purely spiritual beings who were content to remain in the spirit world. It wasn't until after Michiko's birth that kami attacks became frequent and eventually commonplace.

  A wave of bitter grief surged through the princess, and she shifted uncomfortably on her bedroll. She pulled the stick with the teapot out of the fire and set it on the ground to cool.

  Her mother had been among the first killed by hostile spirits. Michiko had not known Yoshino, and her father would not speak of her. Daimyo Konda had ordered all Yoshino's likenesses removed from the tower after her funeral. Lady Pearl-Ear kept a small portrait of Yoshino in a golden cameo, but she rarely wore it. She had shown it to Michiko several times, however, usually on the day of the princess's birth.

  Michiko had memorized every finely etched line of that portrait. She believed that she favored her father physically, but that her personality came largely from her mother. Lady Pearl-Ear had said so once, indirectly, complimenting an essay Michiko had written. When pressed, the fox-woman grew distressed and changed the subject.

  As Michiko sipped her tea directly from the pot, the glowing orb suddenly swooped down to eye level. It darted left, then back in front of Michiko's face, then left again. It was buzzing excitedly and flashing on and off in succession.

  Instinctively, Michiko followed the foxfire's motion with her eyes. She spit out her tea and leaped to her feet, smoothly taking the bow and quiver from the horse's back.

  Several yards away, the air had grown thick and was folding in upon itself. The denser cloud slowly sculpted itself into a series of squat and burly bulbs, all emanating from a central core of lumpy, fibrous material.

  Michiko nocked an arrow and took aim. She had personally seen half a dozen kami attacks, but the one in the tower was freshest. She remembered Sharp-Ear's off-the-cuff advice when he first started training her: the larger the target, the easier it is to hit, and if nothing else presents itself, go for the eye.

  The gnarled, root-like shapes had no eyes that she could see, so she trained her arrow at the center of the mass. She was hesitant to fire until she had to-there was no need to antagonize the creature until it attacked. The mass was now as big as a pony, and she decided to hold her fire until it was as big as Kaze.

  Perspiration formed on the princess's brow as she waited. She remembered her previous train of thought, and wondered if the bow was the proper tool for this encounter. If this was all part of her destiny, as her dreams and her spirit guide seemed to indicate, perhaps she was meant to reach out to the enraged kami instead of fighting them.

  "Hear me," she told the growing mass of bulbs and roots. "I am Princess Michiko of Towabara, daughter of Daimyo Konda. I do not wish to fight you, but to understand you. We need not be enemies. Will you speak with me?
"

  In response, the kami continued to grow. Two of the bulbs came to a single point over the main mass. They were joined by another pair, and then another. As Michiko watched and waited for a response, a skeletal facsimile of a human rib cage formed before her, complete with a fibrous brown heart that throbbed at its center.

  Then the rib cage split vertically and lunged forward at Michiko, snapping like some great pair of jaws. She released her arrow straight into the thing's heart, and it recoiled, snapping shut well clear of her. A cloud of greenish-black spores puffed out from the pseudo-organ, and Michiko covered her mouth and nose to keep from inhaling them.

  More rib-cage maws formed around the original one, each with snapping jaws and a dense, beating organ within. Being pierced through the heart did not seem to affect the first one after the initial shock of the arrow sinking in. Michiko nocked another arrow as a light flashed from the corner of her eye.

  She spared a glance toward the light and saw the foxfire orb hovering over Kaze's saddle. It flashed frantically, urging her to follow.

  The princess looked back at the monster, growing larger all the time. It would soon have more mouths than she had arrows, and her weapons didn't seem to be doing much good in the first place. She let fly the bolt she had ready, then vaulted up onto the horse's back.

  As her feet found the stirrups, the glowing orb grew brighter and more intense-so bright that she could see the ground for twenty yards in all directions. Her spirit guide had led her this far and was now capable of leading her on. She might not be able to defeat the kami, but she was certain she could outrun it.

  She spurred Kaze just as three of the rib cages shot forward, snapping like hungry birds. Michiko instinctively stood upright as Kaze galloped forward, aimed back over the horse's hind end, and fired a second arrow into the creature's original heart.