L5r - scroll 06 - The Dragon

by Ree Soesbee

  Shocked whispers echoed from the field. Hitomi stared down at him, impassively.

  He was lucky to be alive. She could see the wound, and it was light. A scratch, cut just below his collarbone. The hand whispered with a thousand voices in her mind, laughing maniacally. This time, the hand had bested her, but not by much. If it had truly won, the Lion would be a dead man.

  Hitomi smiled slightly as she bowed to her fallen opponent. She would not be disqualified. Kachiko would see to that. The field was clearing as the Lion's men came to carry him from the ground, and Hitomi walked slowly toward her daisho holder near the Dragon banners. The heimin servants scattered at her approach, afraid to come near Hitomi.

  When the tournament master called her forth again, Hitomi rose from her meditation and walked with a measured stride.

  The hand laughed expectandy, watching the Fox samurai bow across the field. Hurt him, the hand whispered. Hurt him, kill him, and claim the victory that is already ours.

  "I will control my own actions. I am not your pawn," Hitomi growled, lowering her head so that her opponent would think her words to be a quiet prayer.

  The hand continued to struggle, sighing at the taste of blood on her blade.

  Pawn, pawn, pawn, the hand whispered in a thousand voices.

  "This is madness." Hitomi took her stance, distracted.

  The hand shifted to correct for her misplaced angle. Win, win! It cried. Win, blood and win!

  "We will win, but my way." Hitomi felt her stubbornness rising. The same strength of spirit that had demanded she charge against Yokuni in the field of Beiden Pass, that had urged her to attack her own clan champion, looking for death, surged in her veins. For a moment, the hand was silent, as if pacified by her will.

  The first strike came as the flags fell from the tournament master's hands. Precise and sharp, it flew toward the Fox samurai's throat with murderous intent. Tricked! Hitomi suddenly realized that the strike was a killing blow, and she pulled her arm back with a mighty yank. The strike fell far short, and the Fox's blade passed only inches from her own chest.

  The hand, no longer silent, howled with fury inside Hitomi's mind.

  Struggling to control the murderous impulses that surged within her, Hitomi twisted and slid her blade against that of the Fox samurai. She was far faster than he, but any release might cause the hand to seize control again—and her opponent would certainly die. "I will control you," Hitomi grunted, pressing her katana's blade against the Fox's and forcing down his guard.

  He means nothing. They all mean nothing. Only death, only fury and revenge. You know revenge, Hitomi. It is an old friend, an old ally. Give in to it once more, he our servant and show them our power!

  Screaming, Hitomi battered down the Fox samurai's blade and slashed lightly at his chest. Falling to the ground, the Fox dropped his katana and clutched his hand to his bloodied breast. Fear showed for a second in his eyes.

  Hitomi backed away, trying to regain her composure. The crowd clapped politely, their uncertainty obvious in the reluctant sound.

  The Fox knelt on the ground, bowing his head. Whether he was grateful for his life or only admired her victory, Hitomi could not tell.

  The hand's whispers grew ever stronger, drowning out her own inner voice. Swinging her blade to clear it of blood, Hitomi turned to look at Kachiko.

  The Scorpion sat now with the Crane Champion. Kachiko's eyes narrowed with laughter.

  Damn you, Kachiko, and damn your gift. There must be a way out of this trap, a way to free myself both of the hand's control—and of yours. I thought that accepting Shosuro's Hand would free me, but all it has done is lock your obsidian chains around my wrists.

  Hitomi bowed, first to the empress's balcony, and then to her fallen opponent.

  Hitomi looked across the field. Only three opponents were left: herself, Kakita Toshimoko, and Kitsu Motso, a powerful Lion General. Motso would have been no competition for her, and she doubted he would prove any for the Crane. The final bout, then, would be Toshimoko and Hitomi—it was only a matter of time.

  There must be a way....

  Hitomi stared for a fleeting second. Toshimoko. Standing on the field, she raised her sword in salute. The Crane was powerful and wise; the finest iaijutsu master in the empire. He would be difficult to defeat, even with the power of the Obsidian Hand.

  Kachiko's words echoed through the hand's cacophony. You will fight—and you will win ... this hand can give us both the strength we deserve.

  I am finished with bushido.... Her own voice.

  The Hand screamed gleefully, gaining power as its black blood surged through her veins. She had turned her back on the way of the honorable warrior, denied the strength of a samurai's soul. Without bushido, there were no rules, no ties of honor. It was too late to regain what she he had lost. Hitomi was a slave to the bloodlust of the hand and to her Scorpion masters. Through the screams within her soul, she could faintly remember her brother's voice, teaching her swordplay along with the code that ruled a samurai's life. Bushido. Satsu would have been ashamed.

  Across the cold and muddied tournament ground, Kakita Toshimoko nodded solemnly, returning Hitomi's salute.

  Perhaps there was still a way.

  As the other two competitors entered the field for their duel, the Crane courtier Yoshi approached Hitomi.

  Ignoring him, Hitomi cleaned her sword with an expert hand. The blood trickled onto the obsidian joint of her thumb, and Hitomi felt an orgasmic chill rush through her at its touch. Maintaining her rigid control, she lifted her gaze to stare angrily at the Crane's pale eyes.

  He responded with pleasantries. "Tell me about your sword-style, Mirumoto-sama. It seems ... different from the standard niten of your clan. Do you find it more effective against the iai-jutsu style than against modern kenjutsu techniques?"

  "Lion fights Crane. Don't you think that's more interesting than discussing the Dragon technique?" As she spoke, Hitomi tugged the sleeve of her kimono down over the joint of her thumb. She wiped away the blood before the hand could draw strength from it.

  Kakita Yoshi's eyes flickered down, but he seemed not to notice. "Not at all. The Dragon, like the Crab, fight with strength and power. The Crane fight with skill. One sword, one stroke, and no more."

  Hitomi grunted savagely, "The Crab fight with cowardice."

  "I'm certain Kisada-sama would disagree," Yoshi said cheerfully. The man's hands folded into his sleeves, curling into white-painted claws beneath his serene silks.

  The hand screamed for revenge from this frail, pitiful courtier. Hitomi spun toward him. Without a thought, the hand shot out, reaching for Yoshi's tunic. Struggling to control its frenzy, Hitomi exerted her will. The hand stopped only inches from Yoshi's chest. Curling the fingers into an obsidian fist, Hitomi looked at the Crane's powdered face, her black eyes shining with hate and fury. Short hair fell forward into her eyes, sweat trickling down her brow. Inches, mere inches, stood between the Crane and his death, and Hitomi did not know how to keep control. At any moment, chaos could resume, and Hitomi could be lost forever within the hand.

  The Kakita never moved, but simply smiled.

  "Kisada," she hissed, slowly withdrawing the hand, "can die along with his coward son."

  "I don't see how that can happen, Hitomi, if you are here and they are at Beiden Pass."

  Almost snarling, she responded, "The Crab will retreat from Beiden Pass. Yakamo's army of Shadowlands filth is not enough to defeat the army of the Dragon. But this," she tore away her sleeve and held out the stone hand. It was grafted to her flesh like a thing alive, creeping over her forearm with long tendrils of black, glossy stone. "This the Crab took from me. But I will take more from them when I see them again."

  "Where will you see them, Hitomi-san?" Yoshi whispered.

  "When they are done with you, Crane. I will destroy them when they are done with you." Hitomi smiled, allowing the dark blood of the hand to rush through her and show the Crane his own death in
her eyes. "Listen to me, Crane, and listen well. You cannot defeat the Crab. No samurai in the empire has that power. Only I can. I saw them at Beiden Pass. I know what they can do." The hand flashed in the sunlight. "They travel with demonic oni, samurai, creatures of fire and acid, with claws of iron and teeth that break katana and Cranes." She cursed. "The very earth moves for their passage. Where will you be, Crane, when they come to slaughter your people?"

  Yoshi blanched and drew himself straighter. "I will be where I have always been, Mirumoto Hitomi-san. I know where my first duty lies. From the time we samurai are born, we are taught our first duty, and that lesson remains with us until death, and beyond." Hitomi stared at the little Kakita, listening to his words. "When the world ends and the moon falls, Dragon, I will be with the Crane."

  My first duty...

  Lifting her sword to her obi, she bowed curtly. As Yoshi backed cautiously away, his face even paler than usual, Hitomi stepped onto the field without being called.

  "I must not forget my first duty," she said to herself as she turned her back on the Crane courtier. "Satsu. The Crab. I have ignored my true cause for too long. I will kill Hida Yakamo. I have sworn it, and I swear it again, by all the Fortunes. Before I die, the life of Hida Yakamo will end on my blade."

  Smiling faintly, she pressed the flesh of her true hand against the silk wrappings of her blade. "Thank you, Crane, for reminding me that I cannot afford to win this battle."

  xxxxxxxx

  The two samurai bowed to one another, turning toward the center of the courtyard as if pulled by a single cord. Their eyes met, the old sensei and the young daimyo. They paused in the center of the motion, respectfully saluting both the samurai and their noble house.

  More ... the hand cried. More...

  No, Hitomi thought, this time remembering her brother's teachings. She closed her eyes and recalled a day of sunlight, when Satsu had laughed and held her high above the ground. It had been like flying, and the wind in Hitomi's short-chopped hair echoed her memory. There will only be more if you obey me.

  I am your master! The hand snarled, tugging at her will. This time, it found no holes in her armor, no escape for its rage.

  "You are nothing more than stone." Hitomi whispered, and the peace of truth touched her soul at last.

  The courtyard grew silent and still, awaiting the stroke of a single sword, the master's attack of iaijutsu.

  Yoshi stood nearby, craning to hear each whisper of silk, each movement of slippered foot and tinkle of ivory charms hanging from carefully tied obi.

  Toshimoko was a silent statue, his gray braid moving quiedy in the breeze like the tail of some great, chained cat.

  Hitomi's hand gleamed in the sunlight, as cold as ice and as devoid of soul.

  At last, a bird fluttered between them in a whisper of motion. The samurai moved. Their swords slid free of their sheaths with a ringing whisper, but only one sword struck truly. Twisting free from her stone hand, one half of Hitomi's katana clattered uselessly to the ground. She staggered backward from the force of the Kakita's strike and fell.

  Sliding effortlessly down the shattered katana, Toshi-moko's blade rang against Hitomi's Obsidian Hand. It leaped from her black glass fingers to point dangerously at the hollow of her throat.

  From the ground, Hitomi looked up at Toshimoko's blade, her eyes following the sheen of steel up to his somber gray eyes.

  As the Kakita removed his blade from her neck, Hitomi forced a snarl of rage to her features. Her sharp chin jutted out as in anger, and her eyes narrowed. It would be expected—and Kachiko would be watching.

  There was no dishonor in losing a match to the greatest iaijutsu master that had ever lived. The Scorpion would have to accept her defeat as genuine. As Hitomi stood to face her opponent, the old Crane stepped back into the shadow of the courtyard and raised the steel katana in salute.

  True to the code of bushido, Hitomi bowed low to his blade.

  It was time to begin again.

  SAMURAI'S BURDEN

  In a wide valley below stood the strange city of a strange people. Immense stone arches curled among ancient oaks and wrapped themselves like lovers' arms about their impressive trunks. Beyond the strange arched wall, towers covered with centuries of vines and moss rose amid foreign trees, their peaked tops rivaling the uppermost limbs. Vines lifted between them, connecting the ancient towers into a single city, whispering beneath the cover of leaf and bough and trembling in the faint wind.

  The Shinomen was thick and deep here, the lush cover turning the woodland sunlight bluish-green. No human had ever journeyed this far into the forest, Daini knew instinctively. Though tales of the cities of the Shinomen were passed among the children of Rokugan, they were never believed. Not until now.

  Following his green-skinned guide, Daini stumbled over roots thicker than his own leg.

  His eyes frantically assessed the strange city that clung to tree trunk and forest grove.

  Mara stopped a few miles from the city, gazing down with pride at the cluster of buildings. At the break between two twisted trees, a golden arch stood, covered in jewels that were in turn covered in moss. Mara lingered within it for a moment as the other naga slithered past. All of them reverently looked down on the city.

  Daini studied the intricate cluster of buildings and looked to the golden hair of his guide.

  This was no Rokugani city with sliding paper screens and elegantly curved roofs of mahogany and balsa. These buildings were almost entirely stone, their peaked tops resembling eggs on towering cylinders. The city itself was shaped like a great wheel, spokes radiating out from the central palace and traveling through each area in straight, perfectly measured lines. The central palace was not separated by walls or guards, but open and airy. The pillars around it held aloft a ceiling of vine and shade. Within that cover, a building of gold and ivory rested, its doorways resembling nothing so much as burrow holes, circular and patterned with interlocking figures. Smaller houses clung like clustered mushrooms to the city's arched gates. Stone was everywhere—used in every construction and lining the city's roads like petals of some strange flower. A small river flowed to the north of the city and provided water for the central fountains. Groves of trees to the east hid templelike buildings and carefully tended gardens.

  The populace little resembled the folk in the Emerald Empire. Rather than heimin hawking wares and eta shuffling about their tasks, hundreds of naga moved down the wide streets, their long tails coiling behind them. Some wore armor. Others wore robes of green and white fabric that shone like scales and moved like silk. Their skins ranged from dark emerald through olive and to the brightest gold. Some of their thick tails had patterns of diamonds, bands of black and orange, or jeweled brightness. Some of the women had legs, but all the men had snakelike tails that sprouted from their lower torsos. Most were only ten feet long, though others reached a length of thirty feet. Golden hair, unheard of in Rokugan, mingled with black and a strange ruddy brown. Some of the naga were bald, their hair replaced with feathered headbands or painted patterns.

  Not a single human moved through the populace, and Daini saw many of the naga near him looking warily down at him from their perches in the high trees. Tremendous bows curved in capable hands, but none drew an arrow from his quiver. It seemed as if they had somehow known he was coming—even knew his business! No one disturbed Mara as she led him to the city's outer gates.

  It was a magnificent view, but Daini felt cold chills race down his spine. It was a city of strangeness and danger, unlike any other in Rokugan and hidden less than a day's swift travel within the borders of the empire's largest forest

  "Welcome, visitor, to Siksa, city of the mighty Asp." Mara smiled. "You have come at the perfect time, Mirumoto-daini, to see the day's farewell to the Bright Eye." Mara turned to look down at the city, sheltered in a small valley of trees and moss. "I remember when this land was a plain, and the oaks around you were no more than children, struggling for sun. Though others
say that the forest has swallowed Siksa, I believe that it has simply become one with the Akasha of the land. One day, it will be great again." The pride in her voice seemed hardly contained, far too eager for a samurai's ears. In Rokugan, a woman would not speak with such ... raw emotion. "I am so happy to see that the city is awake and alive once more."

  Unsure where to start, Daini cleared his throat and pretended he had not heard her open display of emotion. Her words were strange—Akasha? Was that some ceremony the naga performed? "I . . . your pardon, honored guide . . ." Daini began hesitantly, feeling lost in the strangeness that surrounded him.

  "Mara, Mirumoto-daini. You shall call me the Mara." Jewels twinkled softly in her earlobes as she smiled, brilliant white against the striking green candor of her skin. "It is my title, and my name."

  "Mara. Hai." Looking again at the city within the forest, Daini swallowed hard. "Your people live here?"

  She laughed, stepping out from the arch and making her way down the forest path. Her bare feet moved lightly across the ground, pressing against ancient cobblestone and thick roots. "Oh, no, Mirumoto-daini. My people are the Green-snakes. We live to the north, in the city of Nirukti... or once we did." The sorrow on her face shocked Daini, and he was horrified to see a tear run from her golden eye. Did these snake-creatures know no manners?

  "Nirukti has been destroyed by time, erased as we slept," Mara continued. "We, the Greensnakes who lived through the Great Sleep, now remain here with the Asp. Perhaps one day we will see our city whole again. I do not know." Brushing away the tear gendy with the back of one emerald hand, Mara smiled through her sorrow. Then, as suddenly, her face lit with joy. Turning to look to the west, Mara reached to grasp Daini's hand in her own. "Listen! The Bright Eye comes!"

  Shocked at her touch, Daini froze. Her hand was strangely cool, her fingers soft and supple.

  A faint tension swept through the air, and Daini saw the naga near him move as one, looking toward the west with eager, expectant eyes. All noise within the city hushed as through a great wave of silence brushed against the city's arches. A single guard on the city's high walls raised a strange horn of curved bone to his lips.