Legend of the Red Sun Village

by Mark Swaine

  They craved for human flesh, and if any wise man were to believe these stories, then they would question the shaking and malnourished man. They would question as to why there were two variations in these wandering dead, and question they did, but received no explanation. Unable to conclude his tragic tale of horror and finish his warning, his eyes slipped and fell into the eternal silence, finally bringing him peace. The messenger had failed to deliver his warning, simply because he himself did not rise after his death. Yu-Huang's guards had recorded this occasion well, down to every stress of urgency expressed in the dead messenger's frightened stuttered words. Yu-Huang did not appreciate the irony of the messenger’s fate, or the question that remained without so much as a hint for an answer. Yu-Huang forever remained vigilant to the nature of these stories; while his red and green robed ministers remained sceptical, once again underestimating the powers they still, do not yet understand. These Ministers, these Royal High Ministers, loyal they were, but would never learn. Only in a dream would Yu-Huang vaguely remember a fable told by his father regarding the rising of the dead, but that was before he left on his travels to discover the rest of the undiscovered lands: or at least, that is what he was told by his five guardians.

  CHAPTER TWO

  One year after Yu-Huang had received the visions, on a hot summer's night the chiming of the wall bells toll as guards alert the stations to activity from the South. The Captain of the guard approaches the two vigilant soldiers and too sees in the distance, a winding line of glowing amber approaching from the lower mountain range along the coastal trail.

  “There are so many,” observes the soldier.

  “Hail the General and sound for reinforcements,” commands the Captain.

  As the bells of the watch towers toll louder, battalions of reinforcements leap from bunks and strap on their armour and grab their weaponry before racing to their posts along the entire wall perimeter. The Captain maintains watch of the winding snake of fire which eventually slows to a grouped up stop as they presumably prepare to camp for the night. Shortly after, the General arrives, and he muses longingly at the glowing settlement based on the distant steep mountain face. Judging by the terrain and distance they are at least two days away judges the General. The Captains of the guard look out to the glowing encampment, and estimate over 4,000 migrants on horseback, cart and foot.

  “General, there are so many, how shall we proceed?” asks a Jade soldier.

  “With caution,” replies the General, simply.

  Two days later in the black of night, the Captains of the guard bellow orders at their infantry as men on horseback arrive by the edge of the Yellow river. Facing the imposing bronze drawbridge on the other side of the rushing rapids, they are at first met with silence. Their armour was of the strangest nature, colourful, tiered and lacquered. With domed helmets of horns, masks and various crests fitted atop the centre of their helmets. Many of the Tehen Kanamono crests were broken, leaving their symbols incomplete and senseless, just as they felt as they wait by the raised grassy bank of the Yellow River. They study them from afar, and recognise their armour instantly, feeling more encouraged than threatened.

  “What breed of warrior are they?” asks a Jade soldier.

  “They bear the armour of the Samurai,” says General Arachie.

  “Savages?” inquires a soldier.

  “Great soldiers,” corrects General Arachie, observing their bad state.

  The servants of the Japanese Emperor had finally arrived, and their tired malnourished horses unsteadily trot their skinny legs to the torch lit moat entrance. Their strange uniforms, beaten, broken, dusty and bloodied at least offered them some protection from the four seasons during their pilgrimage. Appearing near death and clearly desperate, they have brought what appears to be an entire city populace, and they all have one thing in common, they are all survivors.

  “Who goes there!?” shouts the centurion atop the moat wall. “Identify yourself!” yells the soldier without an ounce of hospitality in his coarse and formal voice.

  On the ground, and front and centre, a Samurai shakes and struggles to dismount his bloodied and dirty steed. The horse whinnies in discomfort and its four legs nearly buckle at the knees as its hooves stomp from side to side. The warrior removes his Kabuto helmet and studies the hundreds of rows of arrows poised in his direction atop the high flowered wall. His bloodied and bruised face hides a youthful yet concerned expression; a man desperate to feed and shelter the homeless and starving civilians at his back. Clearly exhausted, the man gathers strength to aim his voice to whoever may be listening amongst the rows of soldiers.

  “KAMUI-LI TO MOSHIMASU (MY NAME IS KAMUI LI)!” yells the Samurai, eyes glistening with despair in the bright moonlight. “We need food and shelter,” yells the worn-out man with his arms outstretched.

  A long silence disturbs the peaceful night. The soldiers analyse the possible threat that these newcomers pose. Most are barely able to stand, let alone raise a sword in hatred or anger. As men and women begin dropping to the floor, exhausted, starving and dehydrated, the Jade Soldiers realise the minimal threat these people pose. Even the Samurai who had been pulling carts of the helpless children and elderly folk barely manage to stay on their feet as they lower the cart bars to the ground, appearing too weak to even raise a fist of fury. Yet the guards remain still and silent as the head of the guard informs General Arachie of his concerns regarding the soldiers. Only General Arachie had the honour and authority of addressing the Emperor personally or spiritually without having to inform the Royal Ministers of business and matters beforehand, and the decision to grant them refuge was his alone at this moment in time. The young Samurai cries out in need of his people.

  “We beg of you!” yells the Samurai.

  “State your business here warrior,” bellows the General.

  “We have come with urgent news, and a message for your great and wise Emperor Yu-Huang,” yells Kamui Li.

  The Samurai's message isn't important to the General Arachie; he couldn't simply invite an army of unknown trained warriors into the city. The General is torn in his decision as he looks down upon the poor and hungry women and children, and he knows immediately what Emperor Yu-Huang would want him to do. The General signals to the Captain to lower the drawbridge as he makes his way to the entrance.

  “Open the gates,” yells the Captain.

  A rumbling of chains, gears and pulleys clank and grind, echoing from within the enormous bronze cast double doors. Iron bolts clink and clang in a sequence of heavy thuds behind a back drop of metallic screwing as the giant secured ramp slowly begins to lower over the wide moat. The thick, paved, door lands with a soft heavy thud on a connecting slab of rock and metal on the other side. The Samurai wait with baited breath, unaware of what to expect, hoping to avoid the possibility of attack from an onslaught of Jade soldiers. Most of the Samurai breathe purely to stay on their feet and maintain some dignity in their posture, and are far from battle-ready. A balding and cropped haired, middle aged man with a heavy grey moustache stands confidently in the centre of the giant wide archway of the entrance with his arms by his side, challenging even the gods of old to dare cross the line beyond his spaced feet.

  The jade and silver lacquered Wei Jia armoured General sets his eyes on the unannounced guests and differentiates warrior from peasant as nervous families huddle together in groups. The peasants and commoners pose no threat, too hungry and thirsty to even move, let alone lift a blade. Most look as though they don't even know how to hold a sword, let alone wield one in battle. The General knows all too well who to keep his eyes on as he studies the Kikou and Kabuto armoured warriors standing in a tight formation. But it’s not only the battle-worn attire that gives away the nature of their Bushido heritage: the proof is in their eyes. They are the stares of warriors, not of disrespect, not even of anger, but a notion of looking beyond the here and now. In their eyes, as frail and humble as they appear, they are fearless of man, and death. The Gene
ral observes the three blades tucked in the Obis of the horsebacked Samurai, and he ponders on the extent of their combat efficiency. The Samurai named Kamui Li stands squarely opposite the General looking at him from the opposite end of the bridge, and the men at Kamui's back dismount their horses. Suddenly a battalion of Jade soldiers march past both sides of the General, lining the torch rowed bridge. Stopping in formation, the two rows of soldiers face one another, and ready their swords.

  “No matter what he does, no matter what he says, stay your blades," says Kamui Li, addressing his comrades formally.

  The General begins a steady confident stride toward the Samurai, and his expression remains void of any kind of solace, wanted kindness or trivial pleasantries. His two hook swords sheathed cross ways on his back glimmer against the stars in the solemn black night, and the heavy thud of his iron-clad leather boots stops short of the plain faced warriors expecting the unexpected. The Samurai bow to the General, starting a chain reaction of respect that continues almost a mile into the distance as the refugees follow suit. The General breathes coarsely under his breath.

  “I am the General of the Jade army. You are Kamui Li?”" grunts the General, placing his hands on his hips.

  “Yes General,” replies the Samurai nodding humbly.

  “You hail from the Islands of Japan, correct?” inquires the General.

  “Yes master,” replies Kamui Li, keeping his head low.

  The General looks to the distance into the eyes of the desperate and hungry, and of the wide-eyed children held in the weak arms of the women and countrymen.

  “You the leader of these people?” asks the unflinching General.

  "Yes Master,” replies Kamui Li.

  General Arachie exhales loudly through his nostrils, blowing out a few grey nose hairs.

  “How many?” asks the General, concerned as to the great number of people to accommodate.

  “Four thousand,” replies Kamui Li.

  “How many Samurai?" asks General Arachie, more specifically.

  “One thousand,” replies the Samurai,

  General Arachie signals to the Captains of the guard and subtly issues his first command whilst also addressing Kamui Li.

  “We will take five hundred civilians every day, women, children and wounded first,” says the General with a single affirmative nod to the Captain.

  "Yes Master,” replies the Captain.

  “Prepare shelter, food and water, search each and every one of them for weapons before admitting them,” adds the General Arachie.

  “Master, where shall we house them? They are too many,” replies the Captain.

  “Ready the camps,” replies the General.

  The head of the guard is dismissed to carry out his orders and suddenly a force of healers, extra hands and hundreds of soldiers rush through the gate to escort the women, children and the wounded into the city. General Arachie turns his attention back to the young kneeling Samurai named Kamui Li and takes a knee in front of him. Keeping his height a little higher than the warriors head, his eyebrows burrow so deep and low it’s a wonder he can see. Frown lines dig deep into his forehead as he growls his next words to the Samurai with a menacing stare.

  “Look at me Kamui Li,” says the General.

  Kamui Li raises his head and looks into where the General’s eyes would be were they not so tucked away below his low-furrowed and intense brows.

  “Lay down your weapons,” commands General Arachie warningly.

  The Samurai lowers his head and remains silent, to which the General slowly and surely repeats his command with precise wording and warning in his repeated command.

  “We cannot do that,” says Kamui Li, apologetically.

  The General's eyebrows rise in surprise at the young warrior's defiance and Kamui Li lowers his head further to the earth in great humility.

  “Forgive me Master,” begs Kamui Li.

  “Rise,” commands the General, jutting out his bottom row of tiny square teeth, “and state the nature of this urgent news you bring," queries the General.

  "Our blades now serve your Emperor," says Kamui Li, vaguely.

  General Arachie looks to the other Samurai expectantly, awaiting one of them to elaborate further and as a strong autumn breeze whistles through their crested helmets, their silence grows ever louder.

  “Identify yourselves,” commands the General.

  The warriors remove their headgear and General Arachie double takes as many of them reveal themselves to be women. Looking at them in a pitiful manner, he sneers at the so called 'Samurai'.

  “These wenches are not Samurai! Why do these women possess the armour of men and warriors?” asks the General, unashamedly.

  “They are Onna-Bugeisha,” informs Kamui Li.

  “I am Shun-Shiro, servant to the Japanese Empire, and now servant to your Emperor,” says a lean young man, attempting to be amicable.

  “I am Yoshio, my blade serves Emperor Yu-Huang with great honour,” says an aged wrinkled man.

  “I am Akane Junko, my allegiance is to your great Emperor Yu-Huang,” says an athletic young woman, ignoring the General's beady judging eyes.

  “And you?” says the General, looking at an awkwardly-standing man tapping his foot rapidly.

  “My name is Akio, of the Ishikawa family,” replies the confident young man grimacing intermittently.

  General Arachie notices the warriors’ odd selection of weaponised accessories, like the looped whip of firecrackers at Akio's side, the modified crossbow across Shun-Shiro's back and Shun-Shiro's gauntlets, fitted with spring loaded stiletto’s. The General turns his attention back to Akio.

  “Tell me... Akio, what business do a thousand Samurai possess at the walls of the Huanghua city?” asks General Arachie.

  “We just told you,” says Akio with his eyeballs conveying confusion as they shift from side to side.

  “I wish to hear it from you, why did you not send message ahead of your arrival?” asks the General curiously.

  “We could not afford to take that risk,” says Akio, treading lightly from side to side.

  “Why is it you wish enter the Huanghua city so urgently?” presses the General.

  “Nine-hundred and ninety-nine Samurai seek to serve the great Emperor Yu-Huang, and defend the walls of the Huanghua city. I am in great need of the nearest latrine,” says Akio, unashamedly.

  Kamui Li and the others seethe and glare at Akio for his infantile and inappropriate bathroom request, and the General smiles in contempt of the immature teen.

  “I have studied the training of the Samurai arts, with great interest I might add. Discipline is a prerequisite of the way of bushido, is it not?" asks the General, looking at Kamui Li.

  “It is, forgive my counterpart, he is disciplined in the ways of the blade and I assure you, his loyalty is stronger than that of steel.” says Kamui Li strongly.

  “Perhaps all the hilarious Akio requires is a lesson in manners, respect and discipline,” says General Arachie suddenly dealing a solid hairy-knuckled punch to Akio's gut.

  Even though the General's solid fist impacts upon the layered surface of Akio's armour, the wind is knocked from the joker's lungs as he bends to a knee in a sudden huff.

  “Lesson learned, I can wait,” says Akio, coughing.

  “Of course you can. Shall we try again?” asks the General, in a civilised manner.

  “My purpose is to serve Emperor Yu-Huang with my life,” states Akio, still grimacing from the hard knock.

  “Much better,” says the General. “Now, no more games, no more lies, and no more foolish talk,” says the General whilst aiding Akio to his feet with an extended fist. “State your business and lay down your arms,” adds the General in a deep threatening tone.

  “We answer only to the great and wise Emperor Yu-Huang,” replies Kamui Li attempting to ignore Akio squirming on the spot.

  “Then I do not grant you... CAPTAIN, BRING THIS CHILD A BUCKET!” shouts the General.

&
nbsp; A few seconds later the Captain returns and passes the General a bucket, and he casually throws it to the red faced and bursting Samurai. Akio bows quickly as he takes the bucket and turns his back to the masses of onlookers surrounding him in all directions. After realising he has no blind spot he disappears behind a nearby rock.

  “I do not grant you entry into the city,” says the General raising his voice over the sudden and powerful burst of continuous echoed trickling coming from a nearby rock.