by Paul Kidd
“But do they value the man, or merely the office?” The emperor quietly flexed his hands.
“I should so like to be valued for who I am, and not what I am.”
The emperor sadly looked at the useless sword in his hand.
“Once, the emperors were heroes. The blood of gods flowed in our veins. We wrested the sacred islands from the Oni demons, sword in hand…” He quietly hung his head. “But now, no one teaches an emperor the way of the sword…”
Magistrate Masura looked at the youth. He nodded softly, then leaned in closer, making sure that they could not be overheard.
“Your Imperial Majesty is a hero to us.” The samurai’s voice was filled with pure, patient conviction. “Where the warlords feud and bring disruption to the land, your Majesty is the call for peace. By arbitration and manipulation, you will learn to weld a country together as one nation. This is what your father planned when he sent you to be educated in statecraft. This is why your father established the Imperial magistrates, and founded the clans of Imperial samurai. We are to be your eyes and ears, Majesty – and your sword if need be.” Lord Masura looked into the emperor’s eyes. “The country shall be saved from war, if the emperor and those who truly serve him are strong.”
Magistrate Masura gave a profound, determined bow.
“Please forgive my impertinence.”
The emperor sighed and looked out across the wilderness. He knew that the words were true, but still he could feel only emptiness inside his heart. With bowed shoulders, he turned back towards the road.
Magistrate Masura stood and thoughtfully brushed his fingers across his moustache. He looked off towards the west, frowning at the fine, far distant rain.
“Imperial Magistrate Kyujin has a garrison castle near the Sano border…” He seemed to uncover an interesting thought. “Perhaps it would please your Majesty to be a guest of Kyujin san for the night?”
The boy emperor whirled, eyes as wide as moons – joy shining in his face.
“A real castle?” He almost danced with delight. “Yes, uncle Shiro san! Oh please yes!”
Magistrate Masura’s voice was fond.
“It will not please your Majesty’s advisors, but I can arrange it. Is it truly your order, Imperial Majesty?”
The boy drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders. His face was full of joy.
“Yes, Lord Masura Shiro. It is an Imperial command!”
“Then I must ride onwards with my men to prepare your Majesty’s welcome. It is perhaps an hour’s travel to the west. We shall instruct your escort. Perhaps you might dally on your way? I hear there is an excellent view from a bridge further along this road.” The magistrate knelt and gave a bow.
“I will see your Imperial Majesty in a few hours’ time.”
Magistrate Masura bowed again. He rose and mounted his horse, taking his bow in hand. Taking his officers with him, the magistrate galloped swiftly ahead down the road, swerving off and away towards the west. The emperor watched the men ride, delighting in the brave display of horses, armour and weapons. He then turned and looked back towards the fields, and to the great, looming forest just beyond.
There was something strange about the place. Something dark – almost aware. The young emperor felt a chill against his skin. The hairs at the back of his neck stirred in a strange breath of icy cold.
He flexed his fingers about his sword, and stared at the trees. The old court official moved forward to stand beside him, and gave a reverent bow.
“Imperial Majesty – shall we return now to the Lotus Temple?”
“No, not yet.” The emperor reached a sudden decision. “I will walk! I will explore!”
The court official went stiff with shock. “Majesty!”
“Yes…” The young emperor determinedly began to walk away from the palanquin, the road and all his servants. “High time indeed!”
The emperor strode towards the forest – hoping to look determined and heroic. He was not really wearing the best possible footwear for the occasion – bearskin riding boots gave poor purchase on the soggy grass. But the boy waded forward, and the courtiers, servants and guards behind him could only goggle – and then desperately hasten forward to protect their lord.
Their steps faltered as they entered in beneath the forest eaves. The air became chill and damp. The drip-drip-drip of water from leaves seemed to echo in the vast green gloom.
Tree trunks soared overhead like pillars of a dark, fantastic temple. Sunlight seemed to disappear as only a few bright shafts shone here and there, sparkling downward through the canopy. Dense stands of underbrush gave way to open, cavernous spaces, where fallen tree trunks hosted growths of pale, gleaming toadstools.
Old leaves carpeted the ground with brown and amber. Orange shelf fungi stood out with startling colours here and there against the trees. But the rest of the world seemed dark with shadow – lit here and there with bright islands of spectacular, living green.
The emperor moved slowly forward, peering owlishly about himself. His clumsy shoes made loud foot-falls as he stepped across the carpet of fallen leaves.
Courtiers moved carefully behind him, creeping out into the shadows. Their bright robes shone like flowers in the great green void. Imperial guards advanced, stepping cautiously into the depths. The remaining Imperial samurai kept close by the emperor’s side.
Rivulets ran off into the heart of the forest. The emperor move onwards, soon losing sight of the outside world. Sunlight made strange little islands inside the forest where dust motes danced and flowers blazed. He followed the splash of water, looking about in cautious, dazed amazement.
The ground underfoot became muddy. The rivulets flowed down into a great, black pond choked with fallen trees. Oil slicks shimmered on the surface, gleaming purple with thick, reflected light.
Out in the depths, long, slow bubbles rose…
A weird chill seemed to spread out into the air. There was a feeling, like something watching and unseen, something that prickled slowly at the senses. The emperor moved back and away from the slick black water, pushing through a thicket that cracked and crackled as he walked.
Something seemed to be there – deeper in the forest. Something that slipped just out of view. The emperor paused, listening – every hair standing on end – and then suddenly he heard a faint, hollow ‘thock’ of sound from somewhere through the trees.
The old grey-haired courtier moved quietly to the emperor’s side. The old man kept his eyes scanning at the shadows.
“Your Imperial Majesty, please be careful. There are many dangers in the wilds.” The dark spaces were great, threatening voids. More and more, the forest gave forth a creeping sense of dread. “I must insist that we return to the road. We cannot protect you here.”
The emperor flicked a scornful glance at the old man, and at the fluttering courtiers nearby. “Protect me?”
The old man immediately turned. He bowed to the emperor in absolute, resolute gravity, followed by all of the courtiers nearby.
“We are your court, Majesty. We will gladly sacrifice ourselves to ensure your welfare.” The old man’s voice was firm.
“You are the Emperor.”
The boy emperor turned. Behind and beside him, a scattering of guards, samurai and courtiers all held their bows with total intensity. The boy felt a sting of shame, and motioned quietly to one and all.
“Please. Do please forgive me.”
He turned to face the heart of the forest.
Something shivered just at the edge of perception. Something strange…a flitting, fading presence that seemed to quiver here and there deep in the trees. There was a sensation of cold – of dread. A creeping chill that seemed to spread across the ground like an invisible fog.
The emperor turned his head, feeling his senses prickle. He tried to search the trees and the branches, but nothing stirred. Still…
“There is something strange here. Almost as if I can feel… Eyes.”
/> Movement flickered off in the trees.
A hollow sound echoed – like a gourd drum. Once… twice. And somewhere, just faintly drifting in the still air – there came a weird sound of childrens’ laughter.
The sounds suddenly vanished.
The grey-haired courtier backed the emperor away from the dark.
“Quickly, your Majesty. We must go!”
Something in the forest seemed to heave and move – dark shadows pulsed, as though something had suddenly awakened. The emperor stepped backwards, staring at the trees. He backed slowly away, feeling his way back towards the outer world.
The samurai moved back, and the emperor moved with them. They withdrew carefully – back through the crackling thickets. Imperial guards ran forward to join with the samurai, arrows nocked to bows. They backed slowly, covering the gradual, clumsy retreat. Courtiers clung tight about the emperor to protect him from harm. They edged out through the thickets, eyes staring at the dark forest beyond, weapons twitching to cover every swaying leaf – every speck of flickering shadow…
Something flashed out of the darkness behind them. A pair of guards were smashed apart. Something pierced through a courtier and lifted him screaming, high into the air.
The black water heaved. Bursting from beneath came a vast, hideous mass of tentacles and countless screaming skulls.
The creature was a nightmare – a titanic, bestial amoeba made of rotting flesh, old armour, swords and fused bone. Skulls were packed all through the immense creature’s body, all shrieking and gibbering in hate.
Like some titanic beast, the entity heaved itself up out of the lake, lashing out with tentacles to seize onto the trees. A mouth as big as a cave formed, suddenly splitting open – countless rusted sword and spear blades dripping like rotten fangs.
Pseudopods bearing rusting blades sweep out to slaughter the emperor’s entourage. Tentacles speared out from screaming skull-mouths, piercing victims and dragging them back in against the snapping, rending teeth. Cut off from the road, the emperor fled, ducking as a tentacle studded with spear blades flashed past, tearing at his robes. Imperial samurai were smashed apart. The emperor flung himself into a ditch, losing hat and shoes. The raging, rotting giant shattered saplings as it surged forward. The emperor scrabbled clear, his mind numb with shock as the monster tore his entourage apart.
They were all cut off from the road. The corpse monster lumbered inexorably towards them, moving with pseudopods that formed decaying legs of slime and bone. Arrows from the last few guards struck at the monster, sinking uselessly into the rotten flesh, iron and bone. The emperor and his courtiers fled back, deeper and deeper into the gloom.
The emperor unsheathed his sword, halting, wanting to turn back. The old grey-haired courtier drew a long dagger and put himself between the boy and the raging monster.
“Run, Majesty! We will buy you time!” The immense monster was coming – tentacles whipped out to spread through the forest to either side, cutting off all escape. The old courtier gathered the last few imperial guards and foot soldiers beside him.
“Run!”
The old man charged at the monster with the last guards fighting loyally beside him. The emperor stared and then started forward, wanting to help.
The battle raged amongst the trees, with the corpse monster blundering forward, shattering trees and whipping out to slaughter men with a single blow. The old courtier and his men parried blades and tentacles – sliced at rotting flesh, and then the monster reared. It slammed its vast bulk down, crushing the men beneath it in a single horrifying blow.
The immense monster reared and gibbered in triumph, flinging flesh and blood about the trees. Ducking through the brambles, the emperor turned and fled into the forest, fighting free of his elaborate outer robes.
He ran, crashing into trees and ducking through branches. Behind him, the screaming, raging titan came onward, spreading a terrifying chill of death through the gloom….
All through the afternoon, the clouds lowered. A sparse mist speckled through the air, and rain was sure to come. Every leaf and strand of grass shone and dripped with moisture, and the sky became a brooding blue-black ocean of cloud.
A large house stood at the edge of a sprawling, rambling village. The main room looked out over a stream that flashed and bubbled in the gloom. In the courtyard, exhausted horses stood beneath pine trees, eyes rolling white with fright.
The Spirit Hunters sat together on the broad wooden porch, each with a hastily poured cup of tea beside them. Their equipment had been stacked against the wall, and their clothing was still wet from walking through the misty rain. The air hung thick with the scent of wet socks, wet skin and damp fox. Daitanishi and Bifuuko had managed to seat themselves upon a teapot, warming themselves and drying off. They both watched affairs unfold around them with interested eyes.
Sano Moko sat to one side. The female samurai was dressed in armour that had sodden wet lacings and smears of mud and grime. Frozen-faced and ashen, her fists were balled tightly inside armoured gauntlets. Loose strands of hair straggled carelessly down her face.
Two dishevelled, tear-streaked ladies-in-waiting sat on mats facing the Spirit Hunters. Beside them, four Sano clan samurai knelt, stiff faced and frozen with shame.
The first of the two ladies in waiting – still wearing stained, torn wisteria robes – kept her head bowed in shame. Her voice barely whispered as she spoke to the attentive Spirit Hunters. She described the events in the forest, sometimes muddling her words. Tears fell onto the floor before her as she spoke.
“… when we found Yukiwakumaru chan’s clothes, they were still warm. It was as though he had been spirited away.” The woman wept soundlessly and steadily, never once lifting a hand to dry her face. “We searched and found nothing. No tracks, no sign of kidnappers. He has vanished – simply vanished…”
The second woman stared woodenly at the floor. Her hands lay limp and lifeless in her lap. She blinked slowly, seemingly uninterested in the world around her.
“We have lost the heir to the Sano clan. Our inability has cost us irredeemable shame.” The woman slowly looked to Sura. “Clearly we must end our lives at once. Do you not agree?”
The four Sano samurai all swivelled to face Kitsune Sura. They bowed – faces all drawn tight with shame.
Sura sipped her tea, watching the ladies in waiting with a sour, considering eye.
“Yeah… Our helping you is conditional on you humans not doing anything stupid.”
The dishevelled lady-in-waiting looked blankly up at Sura. She slowly furrowed her brow.
“I do not understand.”
Kuno spoke gently – his voice calm but firm.
“The priestess means that she insists you do not take your lives.”
The lady-in-waiting wept, her face drained of life.
“I cannot live beneath such shame.”
Kuno drew in a thoughtful breath. He carefully considered his words, nodding silently, then turned formally towards the ladies-in-waiting and their four samurai.
“Shame comes from failure. Failure comes from fault. In this case, you claim more fault than you deserve.” Kuno met each of the Sano samurai and women eye-to-eye.
“You could not be expected to stop a lightning bolt, nor an earthquake. A spirit or a monster is also not a danger you could have planned for. You took reasonable precautions. Whatever took Yukiwakumaru chan was clearly beyond your experience.”
The woman in the wisteria robes hid her face behind her sleeve.
“But how can I ever face her ladyship again?”
Kuno remained utterly stern. He set down his teacup with a decided thump.
“That is your personal pride. A samurai does not place pride above their duty.” Kuno bowed. “You have a duty to serve the Sano clan. How do your dead corpses serve to aid your lord or comfort his grieving wife?”
The woman in the wisteria robe suddenly sat back. Her eyes widened as enlightenment struck home. Shock and relief
shone in her face. She looked at Asodo Kuno in wonder.
“I see it!” She immediately bowed to Kuno in profound gratitude.
“Thank you, samurai. Thank you, priestess. I thank you for pointing out my error!”
The four Sano warriors all bowed once more, joining the ladies-in-waiting as they pressed their foreheads to the ground.
Tonbo nodded, then gently rumbled to the tearstained women and their guards.
“Go – and be comforted. We shall find Lord Sano’s son.”
The four samurai and ladies-in-waiting quietly departed. Sano Moko watched them go. She was weighed down – clearly suppressing a near frantic panic. The woman ran a hand across lank, wet hair, pulling bracken from the strands.
Moko paused with her fingers across her eyes.
“They should never have gone into the forest. Not even the edges. Had they listened to peasant lore, they would have been more cautious.”
Chiri thoughtfully poured Sano Moko another cup of tea. Her delicate pink rat ears listened intently.
“Peasant lore warns of dangers in the forest, Sano san?”
“It does. The peasants will not even approach it. They say the forest has a hunger for children.”
Sura arched her neck and looked at Sano Moko, feeling rather aghast.
“Children go missing – and you have done nothing?”
The female samurai grimly set her shoulders.
“Many went missing ten years ago, Sura san. But the disappearances stopped. They stopped because the peasants keep their children far away from the forest.”
Sano Moko grimly hung her head.
“Yukiwakumaru chan is the son of my cousins. My father has adopted him, so that the clan will have a male heir. He is extremely important to my clan.”
She turned. Together with the Spirit Hunters, Bifuuko and Daitanishi, Sano Moko looked off towards the great, black forest far across the valley.
The female samurai gazed out through the rain.
“It is called the Forest of Traitors. Fifty years ago, a rebellion was raised by the youngest brother of the Sano lord. He was a samurai steeped in Maho – evil blood magic. He slew his brother’s wife and children, but was finally defeated with all his men.” Moko raised her hand and pointed off towards the eastern valley. “The survivors were hounded into the forest. A final battle took place in the forest swamps. The traitors died, riddled with arrows, sinking into the dark filth. They died swearing a hate that would last for all eternity…”