L5r - scroll 05 - The Crab Page 4
Kisada's confidence in his own abilities allowed him to keep an advisor who saw things completely differently. Today, as always,
Kuni Yori showed Kisada opinions he would never come to on his own. But the Great Bear was barely listening.
"When did you arrive?" he asked his son.
"Just past midday," Yakamo replied.
"And Sukune?"
"My brother is in his tent recovering from his hard ride," Yakamo sneered.
Kisada sighed, his shoulders drooping slightly—a posture he often adopted when talking about his youngest son.
"Wake him," the Great Bear ordered. He shouldered his way into his command tent.
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"We need to reinforce the position," Sukune's sharp voice rang clearly, though he had not yet reached the command tent. "Transfer a second regiment to that tower, perhaps more. The enemy has sensed a weakness and will continue to strike there until we show them it is useless."
"As usual you miss the point," barked Yakamo. He burst through the tent flap, not bothering to hold it open for his brother. "A single regiment of Crab warriors can defeat anything the Shadowlands throws at us. If we move forces to bolster certain areas, the enemy will attack places where our troops are thinnest."
"But we will suffer needless losses with your plan," Sukune muscled into the tent, though with considerably less ease and bluster than Yakamo. "Good soldiers will die because you wanted to prove a point."
Behind them both came the even smaller form of Kuni Yori. The hood of his shugenja robes was pulled tight around his head. He said nothing. It was quite possible neither Hida brother realized he was there.
"Every man or woman on the Wall is prepared to die for the sake of that point!" said the larger samurai. "If we stand firm and defeat them with an ordinary unit, they will fear every regiment! Every samurai who dies will do so that all other Crab strike fear into the heart of the Shadowlands. That is a death replete with honor."
Kisada glowered from a corner of the tent. He stood with his hands clasped behind his armored back and considered them ruefully. His attendants had cleaned the gore from his armor and skin. There was still something odd about his appearance. "Is this the same argument you were having when you rode out of camp nearly a month ago?"
"It is the same argument we've been having since the day Sukune joined our forces," said Yakamo.
"And it's the same one we'll have for as long as I serve here," replied Sukune.
Kisada laughed, though his heart did not seem in it. "Just the way I want it!" He laughed louder but no more convincingly. "So tell me, what news have you brought from Otosan Uchi?"
"The other clans continue to whine like spoiled children," said Yakamo. "They say you are too bold. That your efforts to defend the empire are not enough; you must also pay personal respect to the emperor every two months. They expect the Great Bear to act like a whipped cur!"
"Is that all?" asked Kisada. "With the urgency they attached to that summons I'd have thought they'd come up with some new complaints! I've been brushing those same ones off for over two decades! I daresay you, my son, will have to do the same when you lead the clan."
"We could make it easier on both ourselves and the other clans," Sukune pointed out. As usual his father and brother were in complete harmony, and his was the dissenting voice.
"How?" demanded Kisada. "By following their pointless dictates? You're beginning to sound just like Kuni Yori!"
Sukune took a sharp breath. He distrusted Yori and his hidden games. The shugenja's advice always felt tainted with some spiritual poison that someday would lay low the Great Bear, and perhaps the entire Crab Clan. Sukune was about to protest his father's insult but stopped, cocked his head, and examined the Great Bear from head to toe.
"Where is your tetsubo?" Sukune asked.
Kisada set his jaw and narrowed his eyes, but he did not answer.
"Your tetsubo!" gasped Yakamo.
"Of course!" muttered Yori.
That was what had been so different about the Great Bear's hearing—he hadn't been carrying the tremendous spiked club when he returned from the Wall.
"It was," Kisada paused, uncertain how to explain his loss, laken from me in battle."
A slew of questions burst from their hps. How did it happen? What did it mean? Was this a harbinger of the fall of the Crab Clan?
Kisada silenced them with one steely gaze. "Tomorrow we will get it back!"
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"Nothing ever changes in the land of Fu Leng!" Hida Kisada reached down from the saddle, grabbed the goblin that was chewing on his leg, and lifted it clear over his head. The creature wailed piti-I ully and squirmed in his hand, but the Crab daimyo held on with a death grip. "Kill one beast and another rises. Shatter one fortress and a new one takes form. Death and taint—nothing can change that."
It had been years since Kisada led troops into the Shadowlands, but it might as well have been yesterday. The very land itself was blighted with the taint of evil. No tree or blade of grass grew straight or had the proper color. Everything was crooked and gray. A bone-chilling mist clung to the ground even as the midday sun beat down on the Crab daimyo and the hundred samurai he'd brought into the heart of enemy territory. From cracks in the ground, things scuttled forth to assail them—things like this piteous goblin.
The Great Bear tightened his fingers around the goblin's throat, and he could feel the warmth of the creature's blood trickling across his fist. He growled savagely as he crushed the life from the little monster.
With Yakamo at his side, Kisada had ridden across the desolate plain, following the instructions Kuni Yori provided. In the light of the rising sun, the shugenja had cast a spell that led them toward the missing tetsubo. The magic would bring them within a mile or so of the weapon but could not pinpoint its precise location. Kisada was not worried. The oni was sure to have the tetsubo—either in its possession or still impaled in its forehead. Finding a creature as horrendous as that would be easy, even in the midst of a Shadow-lands army. Defeating it was another story, but Yori assured Kisada that he had "something special" prepared for the occasion.
They topped a plateau and found it full of Shadowlands troops. The samurai dismounted. Crab samurai always preferred to fight on foot. From every direction monsters converged on the tight-packed Crab force.
Skeletons clawed at the Great Bear's torso, their bony hands chipping and bending the layers of his heavy armor. A zombie that might once have been a Crab samurai latched onto Kisada's right wrist. Its weight forced the daimyo to release his hold on the no-dachi he carried—secredy, he was glad. The tremendous blade was a fine weapon, but Kisada found it a barely acceptable replacement for his lost tetsubo. Kisada shifted his stance and began crushing skulls with his fist.
Yakamo fought nearby, using his tetsubo to shatter the skulls of three skeletons at a time. His form and savage fury gave Kisada a rush of pride. He was a fine warrior and would make a good daimyo after the Great Bear fought his final battle.
Kisada had left Sukune behind, entrusting him with the management of the forces on the Wall. It was not that Kisada did not trust Sukune in battle—he had proven himself time and again to be brave and resourceful—but the young man's frailty would be too great a hindrance. In the heart of the Shadowlands, the forces of darkness could see a warrior's weakness. If Sukune's fragile constitution finally snapped here, it would cost more lives than just his own.
The Great Bear shattered the last of the skeletons clinging to his lower half. That left only the zombie that had his right arm pinned to his side.
The undead thing didn't notice its comrades had been dispatched. Zombies were near brainless monsters. They could follow simple orders given by their masters, but they could not adjust their strategy when the tide of battle shifted. Rather than trying to bring Kisada down, the creature just clung to the Great Bear's arm like a geisha pleading with her lover.
Kisada laid the flat of his palm across the top of th
e zombie's head. It looked up. The Crab daimyo twisted his wrist violently and pulled the zombie's head and neck clean away from its shoulders. The body fell, and he threw the head the opposite way.
Kisada looked out at his contingent. His samurai were hip-deep in fallen enemies. Shattered skeletons, gutted goblins, and dismembered zombies littered the field as far as the eye could see. Nowhere did Kisada find even a hint of the red, ropy horror that had stolen his tetsubo—that had taken his soul.
"Just like old times, eh, my old friend?"
Kisada turned, shaken from his reverie. On the slope of the hill stood Hiruma Waka, one of the few samurai on the Wall who had more experience than the Great Bear himself. Waka swung a no-dachi nearly identical to the one Kisada had dropped earlier. He showed just how effective the blade could be. Each of his swings cut clean through an opponent and wounded the next one in line.
"No, Waka," answered Kisada. "Until I get my tetsubo back, nothing will be the same."
As if in response to Kisada's comment, a great commotion arose across the plateau. Goblins ran screaming away, and even skeletons and zombies shambled off faster than usual. The reason soon became clear.
A tremendous, crimson-sinewed creature rose out of the mist and stepped onto the plateau. It lumbered forward, swinging its ropy arms back and forth with each step. Wading into Kisada's troops, it flung samurai through the air like leaves on an autumn breeze. Each of the oni's movements came with a series of pops and crackles. A deep, grating sound, disturbingly like human laughter, escaped its clenched teeth.
"My tetsubo," Kisada hissed.
The oni's forehead bore an ugly, weeping gash where the Great Bear had struck it, but the tetsubo was no longer lodged in the wound. The beast held the weapon in its right fist. It was too small for the creature to use it effectively in battle—more a distraction than an aid—but the sight of their daimyo's tetsubo in the hands of the enemy stunned the troops into momentary inaction.
Except for Kisada. The Great Bear charged, howling like a wild dog under the full moon. He launched himself into the air and landed on the oni's chest, knocking the fifteen-foot-tall monstrosity off its feet.
Kisada grabbed the creature's arm and bit into it as hard as he could. Steaming hot blood as black as pitch gushed from wound and flowed across the Great Bear's face.
The oni yelped, more in surprise than pain, and released its grip on the tetsubo. The Great Bear scooped up his beloved weapon and leaped free. He held the tetsubo aloft the way a father would hold his newborn son to the karni for inspection. Then he locked eyes with the oni.
It was as if all the other combatants, all the samurai and every last monstrous Shadowlands warrior, disappeared completely. There was only Hida Kisada and the foul creature. The Crab daimyo did not see his closest adviser moving around the oni and pouring a coarse white powder in a circle. He did not hear his eldest son, his heir and the future daimyo clan calling his name and urging him to get back. The only thing in his eyes, the only thing in the world was his enemy.
The oni returned his glare with equal ferocity.
Snarling, the two leaped at one another, the Great Bear with his tetsubo poised to strike, and the oni with its massive hands ready to crush him.
Kisada swung.
The oni grasped.
Lighting shot from the sky, dancing in circles around the oni. White energy traced the exact path the shugenja had walked mere minutes earlier. It exploded so brightly that the assembled onlookers could see through the combatants. They became shadows of themselves, frozen scant inches away from one another.
Momentarily blinded, Hida Kisada bounced off the oni and landed unceremoniously on his rump. For the second time in as many days he lost his grip on the tetsubo that had belonged to his father, and his father before him. Scrambling, he gathered the weapon up, held it in a defensive posture, and looked for his opponent
There before him, the oni floated trapped in a sphere of white light.
"Kisada-sama," Kuni Yori said with an exaggerated bow, "the enemy is yours."
THE FACE OF EVIL
The plateau, which moments before had been filled with the sound of battle, was now eerily quiet. Not a single goblin, skeleton, zombie, or other creature of darkness remained. Crab samurai milled about uncertain what to do next. The battle was over, but one enemy remained. They knew better than to approach it. The Great Bear had made it clear before the battle began—the oni was his.
Hida Kisada looked at the oni trapped in the swirling sphere of energy summoned by Kuni Yori. It sat on its haunches, its massive shoulders brushing the top of its prison. Small bolts of lightning crackled and danced across the sphere.
The oni smiled. It was a horrid sight. The muscles of its face, obviously not used to grinning, groaned and popped as they stretched. The beast seemed unperturbed and comfortable, as if it were in control, as if it wanted to be inside the magical cage, safe from the dangers of the world. All the while it looked Kisada dead in the eye.
The Great Bear and the oni stared at one another, neither willing to break the silence. It was a test of character, one with which Kisada was intimately familiar. It took great concentration and mastery of oneself to lock eyes with a mortal foe and remain as silent as death. Being the first to speak was tantamount to admitting your opponent had greater force of will.
Yakamo likewise remained silent. Kisada had taught this tactic to him at a very young age, always staring the boy down until he confessed some transgression. One of Kisada's proudest moments as a father was the first time Yakamo managed to outstare him. The matter at hand was soon forgotten, but the lesson never would be.
The wind moaned lightly as it stirred the mist. Hidden in that mist were the Shadowlands hordes that recently had been fighting to the death on this plateau. Were they hiding nearby, watching to see the outcome of this titanic test of wills?
"Y-your prison is formed from the elements themselves," said Kuni Yori, unable to wait for this tableau of raw will to play to its conclusion. He looked more physically shaken than either of the combatants. "It will last a thousand years."
As one, Kisada and the oni turned and snarled at the shugenja. The moment "had passed. Neither warrior could truly claim victory.
The oni tried to adopt a casual posture within the sphere. In the end it only looked more cramped.
"After five hundred years of senseless battle, I tire of our contest. Perhaps a millennium of rest is just what I need."
"Rest," said Kisada, "is exactly what we intend for you to have— eternal rest!"
"Your life is so short," mused the oni, "and yet you spend it all standing upon that fragile structure with no goal other than killing my people. Tell me, Hida Kisada, don't you ever tire of a battle that will never have a final victor?"
"Your 'people'," Kisada said ignoring the question, "are ravenous monsters, and they spend their entire lives trying to climb over our wall and slay every last man, woman, and child in the empire." As he spoke, he drew closer enough to the oni that tiny arcs of lighting leaped to his helmet. The two locked eyes again, but only for the briefest of moments.
"Details," said the oni with a dismissive wave of its disgusting hand. Glistening red sinews popped audibly. "My warriors besiege your wall because I order them to."
The Great Bear grinned triumphantly.
"So without you," he chuckled, "your armies will fall into chaos. You are the mind behind their strategy, the force behind their attacks."
"Kill it, Father!" said Yakamo, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust.
The oni yawned.
"Kill me, for all the good it will do you," it said. "These forces may come and go at my command, but after centuries of battle they want to kill you as much as you want to kill them. I have been the voice of reason, the one telling them not to rush your wall with every last goblin and zombie. Surely they could overwhelm you, but in the wake of such an attack, our number would be so reduced that we could not carry the fight to our ultimate goal."
"Otosan Uchi," whispered Kuni Yori.
The creature shrugged.
"I presume so," it said with intense disinterest. "Such things are beyond my knowledge, and concern. My orders were given to me by my master and creator more than five hundred years ago. In the intervening years, Fu Leng has grown bored with my war. He has found other avenues to entertain his thirst for blood. Fu Leng will have his vengeance whether one more goblin dies on your wall or not."
The oni leaned closer to Kisada, so close that it singed its face on its new prison. It did not wince and didn't even seem to notice the foul stench of its own smoldering skin.
"Truth be told," it whispered, "Fu Leng could not care less whether I die or not. His plans are bigger than my assault on your wall."
"Well then," the Great Bear said, "you are worth less than nothing."
"Kill it!" Yakamo urged again. A murmur of agreement rose among the other samurai as well.
"Yes, by all means, kill me," said the oni. "Of what possible use could I be? I only command the unquestioning loyalty of an army nearly twice the size of your own, Kisada-san. I only have
the ability to command my troops to cease their attacks on your positions—and possibly even to fight alongside the Crab forces instead of against them."
Kisada barked a sharp laugh but never took his eyes off the oni.
"What possible use would your goblins be to me?"
"With your wall secured, and your army's number tripled, you could turn your attention to a prize worthy of you—the Emerald Throne itself!"
Another murmur ran through the assembled warriors. Kisada could not tell whether his samurai were outraged at the suggestion or awed by the possibility.
"I have watched you since the day you first climbed onto that wall," the oni said as much to the crowd as to Kisada. "You are different than any other samurai I have ever seen. In five centuries of fighting, you are the only foe I have ever respected. Your skills, your ferocity, and your honor are singular. You do not make alliances and negotiate deals to further your own goals; you fight because it is right. You stand in the face of my numberless horde and never once flinch. You are the true embodiment of Rolcugan."