by Paul Kidd
Chiri looked off towards the north, her long white hair streaming softly in the breeze. The white rat gave a wistful sigh.
“I have never seen the capital. I have heard that it is very beautiful.”
“Then we’ll go there!” Sura looked happily off towards the capital. “We’re heading vaguely northward. We could always detour and see the sights!”
Tonbo rested a considering glance upon the fox.
“We have work to do.”
“Hey – there’s as likely to be ghosts in the capital as anywhere! Just classier ones!” Sura perked up her ears. “Oooh – I bet the restaurants are good!”
Beside her, Tonbo gave a sigh. “We have no money for capital city restaurants.”
“Well maybe we could only chase ghosts that live in restaurants!”
The Spirit Hunters walked on. The road dipped down to follow one edge of the mighty forest, heading towards distant smoke that heralded a nearby town. Rain drifted in beautiful curtains far away, making a spectacular wash of shapes and shadows against the morning sun.
An old tree had fallen in a storm, and had continued growing on its side. Sura flitted forward and stepped up onto the tree trunk, gazing joyously off towards the distant rain. The wind flooded cool, crisp scents into the breeze.
“It’s a beautiful day! Bright skies, clear roads, Kuno isn’t reciting poetry…” The fox flipped her hair out into the wind. “What could possibly go wrong?”
Chiri wilted sightly. She flicked an anxious glance towards Tonbo and Kuno.
“I have such a terrible feeling every time she says that…”
Sura leapt merrily down from the fallen tree trunk. “You worry too much! You have me to look after you! A kitsune of the great Kitsune family of Fox Mountain! A fox is fearless! A fox is a paragon of anticipation!”
Kuno dubiously cleared his throat. “Are we to be shown examples of this indomitable courage soon?”
“Courage is only one kitsune tail! It is used when wisdom tells us it is time to be unleashed.” Sura slung her spear across her shoulders. “Now come on! Otherwise I won’t make you rice-balls for lunch!”
The fox flitted merrily onward down the road, calling out a welcome to a frog that leapt out of a puddle. Chiri watched her with admiration and concern.
“Does charisma eventually make you tired?”
Kuno gave a sigh. “We can but hope.”
Thankfully, the rain was still far away, and the breeze pleasingly fresh. Kuno, Tonbo and Chiri settled packs upon their backs and marched on, hurrying to catch up with Sura before she did anything ‘colourful’. They moved off towards the distant smoke of village cooking fires, enjoying the golden morning sun.
Behind them the little procession of palanquins wended their way down through soft, bright paths – down into the edges of the woods. The four mounted samurai led the way forward beneath great overhanging boughs still heavy with dew. The mounted men ducked beneath low branches, calling and laughing to one another.
Behind them, servants and foot soldiers also enjoyed the beautiful cool day. The curtains of the little boy’s palanquin were open, and the child marvelled at the droplets glistening in the trees. Here and there, a leaf slowly fell, spiralling softly down onto lush, wet earth below.
The path led onward past strange, quiet groves, where orange shelves of fungi jutted from the trunks of gnarled old trees. Toadstools grew in shaded little groups, their heads all bowed together like conspirators. Here and there, bright beams of sunlight shone downward through the leaves high overhead. Dust motes drifted back and forth, wandering aimlessly about inside the columns of soft white light.
Dark spaces lay in the cool green depths of the forest beyond. There were small noises here and there – the drip of water and the slow, soft fall of leaves. Creatures called out – unseen and mysterious. Inside the palanquin, the boy looked about with great wide eyes, staring at a new, amazing world.
They came to a beautiful clearing in the forest. The trees all around formed a great, broad wall of shadows, while sunlight glimmered off countless small flowers in the grass. Insects wove quietly overhead and tiny creatures flitted softly off into the leaves.
The palanquins were carefully set down upon the grass. Two young ladies-in-waiting came forth, bearing baskets of herbs and flowers. The boy came tumbling out into the sun. Giggling and laughing, he ran happily through the grass, squealing as his ladies-in-waiting gave chase, swept him up into their sleeves and tickled his belly.
The four armoured samurai dismounted. They kept themselves well away from the little boy and his ladies, giving them privacy. The samurai kept a watch upon the forest, attention never wavering, setting careful guard. Behind them, servants laid out grass mats upon the ground, bringing forth food and flasks of drink. The foot soldiers spaced themselves out to make a guard cordon at the forest fence. They moved forward, searching into the nearby woods, checking to make certain the shadows held no hidden enemies.
The little boy seized a red ball, and began hurling and chasing it through the grass. The two ladies-in-waiting watched him for a moment, then settled themselves down. They opened up their baskets of herbs and sorted everything out upon the grass mats.
Flower matching was an ancient courtly game – one that needed a high level of skill. The women had been given the flowering ends of a dozen different herbs. They now needed to find the matching roots. Much was at stake – the places of honour at the great harvest ceremony banquets would be given to the two women who held the winning score. Old Lady Harimaru, noble of the third rank at the imperial court and senior priestess at the Sunrise Shrine, had orchestrated the contest herself. She had been cunning – some of her herb choices had been exotic in the extreme! But the ladies–in-waiting were a match for her.
Old Harimaru had taken a journey to the ancient Forest of Owarijima – an island noted for its groves of ginko and alpine oak. But those exact same trees grew in this old forest in profusion. Others might be at a loss – but the two Sano women were a match for the old witch at last. They plunged into the great profusion of flowers and weird little forest herbs that grew all through the clearing, calling out in delight as they swiftly made discoveries.
The little boy followed his ball into the edge of the forest, running through an ocean of dandelions. Seeds flew into the air as he ran, and one of the ladies called out after him with a musical laugh.
“Yukiwakumaru chan! Don’t go far! Stay here in the grass!”
The second lady – a woman who wore wisteria-patterned robes – suddenly straightened up holding a weird, twisted root in her hands.
“Here! The roots match the stems. That’s another one we’ve found!” The woman was triumphant. “They’re here! We can find them all here, I know it! This forest is a wonderland. I don’t know why everyone avoids it!”
Her friend saw a subtle glimmer of parasitic flowers climbing up a nearby tree. She tied back her sleeves and hair like a samurai about to go into action, and her friend came racing over in amazement.
“There?”
“There! Up in the trees! The old witch thought we wouldn’t think to look above the ground!” She gathered up her skirts. “Help me up!”
The friend looked dubiously at the rugged old trees. “Are we dressed for this?”
“We will gather the plants by our own hands!” Her friend tied back her hair like a hero. “Sakura san - Here I go!”
The girl began swarming her way up the tree, but almost immediately became quite hopelessly stuck in the branches. Soon her friend, two foot soldiers, a servant and the porters were all involved in trying to extricate the poor young lady from on high.
Out in the nearby forest, the four samurai looked back at the commotion and shook their heads. The men moved onward, keeping a cordon about the little boy as he moved into the great green world beneath the trees.
Water dripped and flowed into a little rivulet that ran splashing off amongst gnarled roots and great brown stones. The boy ran past
a weird castle made from fungi shelves and toadstools, standing to stare up in wonder at the branches high above.
His ball bounced over to the roots of a tree. The little boy toddled over and picked it up – then turned, listening as a hollow little rap of sound echoed through the woods nearby.
One of the samurai called to him. The boy turned and carried his ball over to the warrior, who knelt down and welcomed him happily. The little boy threw his ball awkwardly to one of the other samurai. The man checked it with his foot, and passed it to another man.
Court football was an old, old pastime of warriors all up and down the sacred isles. One samurai stood aside, keeping an eye upon the woods. The other three gathered with the little boy and eagerly taught him how to play. The contestants all stood in a circle, and the ball was kept up and in play, never touching the ground. The armoured men all encouraged the child, helping him flick up the ball with his feet. They cheered him, encouraging him – all old friends together.
One of the men kicked the ball to his friend, and it rebounded from the man’s breastplate and ricocheted off and away. The ball bounced off, running down along the little rivulet. It rolled on and on, somehow managing to keep rolling off with insulting, lazy speed.
The samurai who had kicked the ball was elected to go and fetch it back. The man jogged off after it, finally catching up as the ball landed in a tangle of brambles. But mud, the slippery rocks and fallen leaves all worked their magic. The samurai managed to fall over in the brambles, becoming tangled as he floundered in the stream. He called for help, and the other three men all ran to him, wading gingerly forward to try and cut great looping strands of bramble bush and carefully peel the poor man free.
The little boy ran up with the men, watching and laughing. Unexpectedly, a soft, slight sound of childish laughter drifted from the trees.
A faint sound like the beat of a little drum came from the leaves. The little boy turned and peered off into the gloom.
The drum sound came again – a single hollow ‘thock’ like a dry gourd being struck with a stick. Soft giggles came from somewhere just nearby. The boy stepped around a tree, eyes wide, looking for the source of the sound.
Something moved in the forest. The child’s eyes shone with wonder as he moved slowly onward.
Back at the clearing, the two ladies-in-waiting finally retrieved the flowers from the branches of an old gnarled tree. Servants helped them down, and the women laughed, brushing mournfully at the streaks left by moss and bark across their robes. They both looked towards the four samurai in the forest, and the girl in the wisteria robe called out into the gloom.
“Yukiwakumaru chan? It is time to go. You mother and his lordship will be waiting for you!”
There was no answer. Inside the woods, two samurai looked up from rescuing their muddy comrade. The fourth looked across towards them, suddenly giving a scowl.
The smiles fell from the ladies’ face. They stepped forward into the trees.
“Yukiwakumaru?” Both women suddenly felt cold.
“Yukiwakumaru…?”
The samurai were running.
They raced to where they had last seen the boy, only a score of steps away. There was no sign of him – no sign of anything moving or lurking. The forest was empty, still and silent.
Sick with fright, the ladies-in-waiting clawed their way through the trees. The foot soldiers ran forward, looking wildly about themselves. The servants called out for the little boy. Some even searched back inside the palanquins.
“Yukiwakumaru san!”
The samurai plunged into the underbrush, the ladies-in-waiting stumbling beside them, tearing their robes on the thorns. One samurai turned as one of the foot soldiers shouted, pointing to a tree. The samurai raced over, stared at the ground in shock, then called for the girl in the wisteria robes.
“My Lady Fujiko…!”
The woman rushed over to his side.
Little Yukiwakumaru’s clothing lay empty on the ground, as though it had simply fallen away. The lady-in-waiting seized the robes and looked wildly about at the woods. No tracks led from the clothing – no blood, no footprints. The trees were empty. All around her, the forest loomed, dark and suddenly horrible. An ice cold wind came hissing through the trees. The woman sank down, ashen, her flesh suddenly as cold as death.
“Yukiwakumaru?”
From far off in the forest, there came a ghostly echo of childish laughter – as if many small voices were fading away. And then, echoing softly in the gloom, there came the single beat of a small gourd drum…
A chill wind blew, and then the forest lay silent.
Chapter 2
An ornate palanquin swayed its way along the road beside the vast, dark forest. Court archers, fifty Imperial foot soldiers and a dozen samurai strode along the road, guarding pack horses laden with baggage. Yet more mounted samurai led the way ahead and guarded the flanks and rear. But it was a light-hearted procession: sages, courtiers and teachers had come. A white-haired old court official strolled easily along beside the palanquin, pointing out the names of mountains, trees and herbs to the occupant. It was a free and easy kind of day.
Magistrate Masura, mounted, armoured and wearing an immaculately folded eboshi cap, came galloping down the road with a wedge of men behind him. They rode straight to the palanquin, slewing to a halt on the grass nearby. Lord Masura and his officers vaulted down from their saddles and knelt on the verge of the road, facing the elaborate palanquin.
The bearers set down the palanquin. Two attendants knelt, making ready to raise the curtains. The assembled soldiers, porters, servants and courtiers all knelt, faced towards the palanquin, and gave a deep, reverent bow.
The curtains were raised, and the passenger gazed eagerly out into the bright, cool world.
He was a sprightly boy of thirteen or fourteen years, with high cheekbones and bright brown eyes. He had dressed himself rather hopefully in ‘hunting attire’ – bright green hakama and a dark scarlet-brown outer robe with the sleeves tied in, ready for archery. He wore the same ‘field cap’ as the samurai he so admired. The boy eagerly emerged from his seat holding a sheathed sword in hand, looking about the landscape in wonder.
“Spectacular! The landscape is so wild.”
Magistrate Masura lifted his head up from his bow.
“Imperial Majesty. This is further than any emperor has come from the capital in a great many years. Perhaps we should return now?”
“It is high time an emperor came here to look.” The boy waved a hand at Magistrate Masura. “I am the emperor, uncle Shiro. Please do not scold me. In any case – see? We are incognito! We do not wish to cause the population any inconvenience.” The boy emperor turned and beamed. “No one even realises I am gone!”
Masura smiled indulgently and shook his head.
“Yes, Majesty. Except for the court, who will be wondering at the sudden peace and quiet.”
Magistrate Masura was ‘uncle’ in name only – but the relationship was real. He looked upon the boy with fondness as the young emperor walked out into the great, wide open world.
The boy stood and looked at the nearby forest in wonderment. It spread clean across the horizon – vast and old, climbing hills and filling valleys with deep, dark shadow. The young man stared at it all in wonder.
“Where are we?”
The white-haired old court official bowed.
“Imperial Majesty, this is the end of the ancient heartland provinces. Beyond us, you see the lands of the Sano clan: an ancient samurai clan related to the Imperial family by marriage of the Sano lord to Imperial Princess Ishiko three hundred years ago.”
The emperor turned about, gazing at the far off hills with their fortified manors and fields. Rain swept the hills, with great shining bands of sun glimmering between the clouds. Herons flew overhead, heading off towards wetlands somewhere far beyond the forest. The emperor drank everything into himself with a quiet, reverent awe.
“I have never seen
samurai clan lands before.” The boy’s voice became wistful. “I have never seen a forest before…”
The forest spread beside them – vast and dark. It reached out to the young emperor with a weird, chill fascination. He stared at it, feeling the forest brooding – waiting. It seemed almost to be watching him in return…
He took a step towards the forest – pulled slowly forward, almost unware that he moved. But the old court official broke in upon his thoughts.
“Forgive me, but we should not linger, Majesty.” The old man turned and gestured back towards the north. “Your unscheduled excursion has disrupted the court’s routine. We have come a full day’s travel from the Lotus Temple. It will take us many hours to return to civilisation.”
The emperor waved the old official away. Finally breaking away from the hypnotic pull of the forest, he strode away into a field. He joined Magistrate Masura – his beloved uncle in all but blood – and the two of them stood, staring out across the vast expanse of open space.
The emperor breathed in the air with excitement at his newfound freedom. He leaned in to speak softly into Masura’s ear.
“They mean well – but I’m stifling, Shiro san! I have seen nothing but palace walls and the Imperial temples ever since I was born!”
“They are concerned for you, Imperial Majesty.” The samurai lord kept a mild, understanding smile upon his face. “Your court is unused to such bursts of activity.”
Magistrate Masura turned and examined the youth beside him. The young man was filled with frustrated energy – chafing, but full of hope. The samurai lord looked fondly at the boy, and understood.
“If your Imperial Majesty will forgive my unpardonable effrontery… But he seems to be frustrated with the course of his life.”
The boy-emperor stared off into the distance.
“I feel… useless. Like a thing of no real value within myself.”
“Your Majesty is the most valuable treasure of the sacred islands. A descendant of the Kami! Your subjects are sworn to your service.”