Young samurai from many different clans struggle to understand their role in a war-torn Empire, and find themselves drawn to the Scorpion lands in the process.
Destiny Has No Secrets
By Lucas Twyman
Edited by Fred Wan
The southern Scorpion provinces
“It is an obvious fact that the race of man is not alone in the universe. All of our world is a constant reminder of this: countless animals roam the land, countless fish swim through the rivers and seas, countless spirits inhabit the infinite realms beyond Ningen-do. Even the stones and air are alive, though it requires special talent to hear them breathe.”
Furumaro craned his neck backwards and looked up at the sky. “We are surrounded by the heavens at all times. Between each step are hundreds of spirit realms, the dreams of mortals and gods alike. Look up at the heavens! There are more living beings living out their lives than there are stars above us! Mortal man is never alone, but, somehow, mortal man is still unique.”
Ichizo poked at the small campfire “Unique? How so?”
“That is the riddle, is it not? Here is the answer: of all creatures, only mortal man can choose the story of his life.”
“His story? Is this another talk about destiny, monk?”
Furumaro raised an eyebrow. “Destiny? I suppose so.”
* * * * *
The northern Crab provinces, three weeks ago
The Twilight Mountains are heavily wooded, and the strange quiet of the mountain woods contributed to the range’s reputation of being haunted. That did not make the silence any less unsettling for Utaku Kohana or Hiruma Akio.
“Is this where the Shakoki Dogu lives?” Kohana asked, and she found herself startled by the sound of her own whispers cutting through the silence. Despite the thin rays of springtime sunlight cutting through the coniferous trees overhead, the air was surprisingly cool. No birds sang, no game scurried through the underbrush. Even Gugki seemed to be holding his breath.
“What?” Akio said, turning back to the Unicorn. “Of course not. The Dogu, if it’s more than a ghost story, lives in the mountains proper. We left the foothills hours ago. We’re closer to the Shinomen than the mountains.”
“The Shinomen is also haunted, isn’t it?”
Akio shook her head. “For someone who has fought demons from Jigoku, you are far too frightened by ghost stories.”
As she led Gugki into what appeared to be a large clearing, Kohana’s reply was silenced.
A small keep stood, ruined and empty. Around it, in a large circle eighty yards in diameter, the ground was blackened and cracked. Here and there the burnt remains of grass remained, still intact, as if converted to ash instantly. Everything in the clearing was shadowed – the only cloud in the clear spring sky hovered directly over this spot. No animals approached, and the trees and grass surrounding the clearing curled away from the cracked earth.
“I pray this was caused only by a ghost,” Kohana whispered.
* * * * *
The Imperial City, two weeks ago
The Empress’s dais was as glorious and intimidating as always. Though this was the second time Saburo had requested, and gained, an audience with the Divine Empress herself, he still felt that he should not be there at all.
“A monk?” The Voice of the Empress rarely allowed himself to express his own emotion when speaking, but he could not hide his interest. “What sort of monk?”
“A plain-seeming one,” Saburo replied. “I beg forgiveness, Divine One. I know little of the nature of monks.”
Satsu nodded. “And a monk told you that there is a weapon against the invaders in the lands of the Scorpion?”
Hideo nodded.
“And why have the Scorpion not presented it to us?”
“I am sure it is of no fault of their own,” Hideo said, smoothly. “Perhaps they do not know of its existence, or perhaps they do not know of its relevance.”
“And you know not its location?”
“True, my lord.” Saburo said, his eyes never leaving the floor.
“Yet you feel the need to ask us permission to leave in search of this unknown item, at the request of a mysterious monk?”
“We failed to tell you of the Kitsune’s prophecy early enough, Divine One. We did not want to make the mistake of withholding valuable information from you again.”
Satsu’s golden eyes observed the young samurai. He turned and walked behind the elaborate screen, then returned mere moments later. “Destiny makes strange creatures its instrument, indeed.” Satsu said, stroking his long mustache. “The Empress has anticipated your request, and in her wisdom, she will grant it. You will obtain an escort and travel to the lands of the Scorpion in search of this weapon. May the Fortunes travel with you.”
* * * * *
“How did that happen?” Saburo asked once he exited the Empress’s court. “Did it just happen?”
“Yes, it did,” Hideo replied, “The Empress has smiled on us again. We should prepare to leave as soon as Kohana returns!”
“But we need an escort.” Saburo said, pointedly. “A Scorpion escort.”
Hideo rubbed his chin and looked across the court. He stopped as his vision fell on a group of Scorpion courtiers entering the hall, and he smiled.
“Easy enough!” Hideo said to Saburo, and he strode forward.
Bayushi Kurumi’s eyes widened as she realized Hideo was actually approaching. She took a deep breath and composed herself.
“Lady Kurumi!” Hideo said boldly, after bowing to the Scorpion. “I am sorry that my schedule has been so difficult recently!”
Kurumi flipped open her fan and nodded. “I understand, Toshi Ranbo is a busy place.”
“I must apologize again, however, for I will be leaving the city soon.”
Kurumi scowled behind her fan. “And where will you be going?”
“A secret mission,” Hideo said, smiling.
Kurumi raised an eyebrow. “Truly?”
Hideo inclined his eyebrow as well. “No, you have seen through my deception. I will be visiting the southern provinces of the Soshi.”
“Really?” Kurumi asked. “Why there, Hideo-san?”
Hideo shrugged. “I’m honestly not certain. The Voice himself requested that we go and visit someone there.”
“And I am the first to hear of this?”
“I couldn’t leave you again without an explanation, could I, my dear?”
Kurumi fanned herself lightly. “You know, there are reports of dangers in that district, and the roads can be very misleading.”
“Indeed, I have heard so, Lady Kurumi.” Hideo said, flashing a winning smile. “If only I could find a guide, someone familiar with the Scorpion lands! As a native, do you know of anyone who I could speak with?”
Kurumi smiled.
* * * * *
The present
Shunori did not look up from the page as he heard, from behind him, the distinctive sound of the monk’s staff clanging against the rough ground.
“I have no patience for your aphorisms tonight, monk.”
“Of course not, Akodo-san,” Furumaro said, dryly, “I can see that you are busy with your magic. I ask only that you convey our tale properly to your lord.”
Shunori rubbed his forehead. He knew that the monk was drawing him into a conversation, presumably to teach him, but like many Lion he had no patience for the Tao. The Tao had a proper place and time – its proper place was sitting next to Akodo’s Leadership in the family shrine, passed over for Akodo’s treatise until it was time for an unlucky bushi to cut his topknot and retire.
“I am not performing magic, monk. I am writing a letter home.”
“But you are! The oldest magic, and the most potent.” Furumaro leaned on his staff and lowered himself to the ground. “Isawa knew the secret. So did some of the races before us. So did Shinsei. By defining the world, by giving it a name, we gain power over it. By telling our tale and writing it down, you gain power over your world. It is the strength mortal man has over even the Heavens themselves.”
Shunori sneered. “That is nonsense, old man, and you know it. Are you implying that the greatest shugenja the Empire ever knew had no greater magic than telling a story?”
“I am not implying it,” Furumaro replied, “I am stating it. Why else would the creatures of other realms covet Ningen-do? They need man’s names. They need man’s place, and only man can grow to become a greater part of the Celestial Order. A mortal can become Empress. A peasant can become a hero. A hero can become a Fortune. No other realm can choose such a story: each spirit is created for a purpose, and lives to fulfill only that purpose.”
Shunori exhaled sharply. “Truly fascinating.”
Furumaro slammed his staff “I am giving you a weapon, Akodo! When Isawa bound the Fallen God to his scrolls, he bound him to the story of mortal men: he bound him to the story of the Thunders. Fu Leng was not the only creature bound to the strength of man’s words.”
“How is this a weapon? In fact, why is this relevant at all?”
Furumaro smiled. “I am a teacher. I am teaching you, Akodo-san. It may not seem important now, but it will be.”
“Well, thank you, then, little teacher. You have given me much to think about,” Shunori said, “but I must finish this letter before it is my turn to take watch.”
“Then it is as it should be,” Furumaro said, and he rose to walk into the night once more.
* * * * *
The Imperial City, twelve days ago
“So Mizuhiko has not been seen since?”
Isawa Kyoko’s question was low and blunt, devoid of the laughter that Asako Bairei remembered in the young prodigy’s voice. It was a struggle to hear her in the crowded teahouse, and Bairei shivered as another patron slipped by, close behind him. He missed the quiet of his libraries. He hated the press of bodies in the Imperial City.
Isawa Sawao nodded. “We have divined his location several times, but he appears to be moving quickly through the mountains, as if he were searching for something. Whenever we send a messenger to retrieve him, he is long-gone by the time of their arrival.”
Bairei rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I hope it is his duty that has consumed him…”
Kyoko shivered in the warm spring air. “I am certain of it. Do you wish for me to seek him out?”
Bairei shook his head. “No, young tensai, the Masters do not wish for you to be traveling alone. According to my sources, word of your heroism at the Battle of Shiro Shiba has traveled to the furthest courts in the Empire. Your presence at the Empress’s Winter Court has only further raised your profile. Lady Mitsuko believes that it is time for you to start accepting suitors, for the good of the clan.”
Kyoko’s eyes stared off into the distance, and she pressed her lips together into a fine line. Exhaling sharply, she nodded. “For the good of the clan.”
“Don’t be so resigned, Kyoko,” Bairei said, offering a rare smile, “I was also uncertain about the prospect of marriage, but as the years have passed I have come to love the company of my wife. I am sure that love will eventually blossom for you as well.”
“I… I am sure that it will.” Kyoko replied.
Sawao narrowed his eyes and studied his former student. Kyoko simply looked over her shoulder, and Barei sipped his tea in silence.
Suddenly, the Master of Water tilted his head to one side. “The Path of Man?” he muttered, and he stood up quickly, almost knocking over the table’s kettle of hot water. Sawao and Kyoko exchanged confused glances and stood as well, following the Master to a nearby table, where five men sat. Four were obviously samurai, wearing trappings of their station around their waists, and one wore an unadorned, cream-colored robe and a wide hat.
“What did you just say?” Bairei asked the fourth man, who turned and looked quickly at him.
“Lady Kyoko!” one of the samurai exclaimed, “A pleasure seeing you!”
Kyoko looked at the samurai, startled.
“Mirumoto Ichizo!” he said, pointing at himself. “I spoke once with your friend Takesi?”
Kyoko placed her hand over her heart.
“I ask once again, what did you say?” Bairei insisted.
The monk’s ageless face betrayed no anxiety. “I said only, ‘fortune favors the mortal man.’”
“You speak the Tao?”
The man quickly got to his feet and bowed his head. “Of course. My years in the monastery taught me well.”
“Which monastery would that be?” Bairei said softly.
The monk’s companions stood as well. Ichizo took a step forward.
“Forgive my rudeness!” Ichizo said, bowing quickly to the three Phoenix. “These are my companions, Yoritomo Saburo, Akodo Shunori, the monk Furumaro, and Kakita Hideo.”
All three bowed as they were introduced. As he bowed, Hideo smiled roguishly at Kyoko.
Kyoko inclined her head, and motioned to her two superiors. “This is Lord Isawa Sawao, Magistrate and former Amethyst Champion, and Lord Asako Bairei, Master of Water.”
“Lord Bairei! It is an honor!” Yoritomo Saburo said, and he bowed very deeply.
“Yes, of course.” He turned back to the monk.
“Forgive my rudeness, Lord Bairei, but I believe it is most fortuitous that we have a chance to speak to you.”
Bairei nodded. “I do not believe it to ever be out of place for a seeker of truth to speak with me.”
“Excellent. My lords will be soon traveling to the lands of the Scorpion to retrieve an item, one that could change the nature of the conflict the Empire now finds itself embroiled in. I am sure we could use the expert advice of a shugenja when this item is found.”
“Scorpion lands, you say?” Bairei asked, furrowing his pale brow. “What sort of item?”
The monk opened his hands. “We do not know.”
“I see.” Bairei frowned. He stood silently, examining the monk.
“Lady Kyoko,” Ichizo said, “is it true about Takesi? That he died at the Battle of Shiro Shiba?”
“Yes,” Kyoko replied, her voice only a little more than a whisper, “he died saving my life.”
Ichizo turned his eyes downwards. “I am sorry. He and I spoke once… and I regret not being more accommodating to him. If you are remaining in the city for the next few days, perhaps I could meet with you in a… less crowded circumstance, and speak of him for a moment or two?”
Kyoko looked over at Bairei and Sawao.
“Of course.” The Master said. He pondered for a moment, and smiled. “In fact, since you have little to do until we arrange for your upcoming plans, it would please me greatly if you could accompany Ichizo and his allies in search of this… item. Unless they object?”
“Of course not! Her skills will certainly be an asset!” Ichizo exclaimed. Behind him, the strange monk smiled.
Kyoko bowed to the Elemental Master. “As you wish, my Lord.”
Before turning to leave, Bairei stepped close to the young tensai.
“Good luck, Lady Kyoko,” he said.
Then, in a quick whisper, he added: “The monk seems familiar to me. Watch him closely, and report to me any insights into his nature.”
* * * * *
The southern Soshi provinces, one week ago
Again and again, Natsuo screamed. His handlers, practically carrying him, adjusted their footing and gripped tighter on the shugenja’s arms.
“Do we really have to transport him as well?”
Soshi Idaurin glared at her yojimbo. “He is a madman, yes, but men more mad than he have served the Scorpion.”
“THEY ARE COMING! THEY ARE ALMOST HERE!” Natsuo screamed. The short bushi wearing an ugly demon’s-face mask leaned closer, laughing.
“Good point.” The yojimbo rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe we can leave both the madman and the Bitter Lies escort behind, then?”
Idaurin shook her head sadly. “Orders from on high. I head north, these men and their cargo head north-east, with you leading the escort. Our lands are growing less and less safe with each passing day. The plague spreads, and now walking dead men. Who knows how long the Crab will be able to hold the beasts from the south? We have already encountered individual stragglers, seemingly drawn here. We must move the artifact further north.”
The yojimbo scowled and adjusted his silk mask. Iduarin smiled. “At least you get company. I have to make this trip alone. Who knows what I could encounter on the road?”
“A GOD ARISEN, A GOD IN CHAINS AT ITS FEET! ITS SKIN IS SLICK WITH BLOOD, ITS SOUL IT HAS RETURNED, AND ITS CHILDREN ARE HUNGRY, SO HUNGRY! THERE WILL BE SO MUCH BLOOD! IT IS COMING!”
The Bitter Lies samurai cackled again at the mad shugenja.
The yojimbo rubbed his temple. “Beg your pardon, Lady Idaurin, but I’m coming to think being alone is vastly preferable.”
* * * * *
The present
“So you’ve added a Scorpion and a Phoenix to our little band,” Hideo said. “If we include Kohana’s new friend, then we have a member of every Great Clan now traveling with us. Quite a coincidence.”
The monk shook his head. “Have you not been listening to me at all? There are no coincidences when it comes to destiny.”
Hideo poked idly at the small fire, careful to not give disturb it enough to give off smoke. “So it is destined that we would all meet, then? The Eight Thunders, but without the greatness?”
Furumaro stared across the flames. “No. It was your choice to gather. I simply set the stage for the story to unfold.”
“A story, again? Why this tale then? Why not an original one?”
“I have become a student of history, lord Hideo.” The monk leaned back, his face disappearing into the shadows of the night. “Shinsei knew the power of this story. That is why he chose it. That is why I have chosen it as well.”
Hideo sat silently, pondering Furumaro’s words. “You talk as if you make sense, but you create only questions, speak only in riddles. You would make a fine ise zumi.”
Rapid footsteps echoed through the camp – Akio was returning.
“Up!” she said, moving from sleeping roll to sleeping roll. “Up! There is something we all must see!”
* * * * *
The southern Scorpion lands, a few hours ago
The last of the Destroyers stood over the gasping, bleeding form of Bayushi Minoru.
“Impressive but ultimately pointless,” the beast said, clacking its steel-clawed fingers together anxiously. It spoke in a harsh foreign tongue, but the meaning of the words scratched into Minoru’s mind. “Why do you still try to stand?”
Minoru looked up at the ogre-sized monster and gritted his teeth. He could taste blood welling in his mouth.
“You may have cut down most of our band, mortal, but we are endless,” the demon crowed, “more will arrive after I have slain you. Your sword is broken and your wizard slain. I can sense our target is here. You have no options left but to bleed and die. Why stand and make things difficult?”
Minoru began to laugh.
The beast took a step backwards, then grabbed the fallen Scorpion and lifted him up, examining him curiously. “Why?” it asked, its animal tongue barely shaping the word in Rokugani.
Minoru laughed louder.
“Why?” it asked again, and mimicked Minoru’s laugh.
Midoru spat blood in the creature’s eye, then grabbed a hidden blade from his back and slammed it into the Destroyer’s neck. As he did, he barely felt the warm shock of razor-sharp claws driving through his chest.
“Why?” Minoru choked out, and he twisted the blade, tearing out the demon’s throat. “So I could spit in your face, is why.”
As he and the demon toppled to the ground, Minoru briefly saw the fallen form of Soshi Natsuo, collapsed over the box they had fought so hard to protect, and laughed again.
* * * * *
The present
As Saburo sprinted to the top of the rise to take his place at Kohana’s side, he found himself shaking uncontrollably. The first rays of the sun washed across the sky, but as his eyes adjusted, he almost retched. Beneath them, on a small, well-maintained path, was the overturned remains of a large cart. Dead oxen and horses surrounded the cart, as well as the bodies of many samurai, most of whom were surrounding the wagon, possibly as if defending it. On the hillside and around the battlefield lay the bloody and mutilated forms of massive humanoid creatures. They were larger than ogres, with metallic forms that resembled both armor and a strange, thick carapace, and bestial features.
“How could this be?” Saburo whispered. “The walking dead we expected, but Destroyers this far north?”
“Something terrible is happening,” Kohana replied softly. “They should not be this close. Ryoko Owari is within three days’ travel.”
Akodo Shunori trotted his horse to their side, and calmly surveyed the battle-site. “We must be cautious. It does not appear to be an ambush, but our first order of business should be to inspect the fallen bodies of these demons, to ensure that they do not survive. No nasty surprises that way.”
Saburo nodded, and motioned to Ichizo and Kyoko. The Dragon and Phoenix dismounted and the four began slowly making their way towards the battlefield. Akio and Hideo circled around the hill, approaching the scene quietly from another angle. Kurumi remained at the top of the hill, looking down distastefully at the dead bodies below.
After a short search, Akio doubled back. “It seems safe enough, Saburo.”
The Mantis nodded in agreement. “Strange, though. I see no tracks leading away from the site.”
Shunori looked across the battlefield. “The Destroyers approached from the south, and came down from the hills towards the path. It seems that they caught the defenders somewhat off-guard, but it was not an effective or well-laid ambush.”
He took several steps forward, following the flow of the battle in the blood and tracks that remained. “The fighting was tight. These Scorpion put up a very good show of themselves against such foes. It seems that all but three defenders fell quickly, but injured many of their enemies superficially. The last three took advantage of these wounds, moving swiftly between their larger foes and cutting out their legs as they tried to cope with the consequences of wounds to the limbs and eyes. Two of the defenders fell there, running through one of their enemies and possibly distracting two more with their deaths so their final ally could strike them from behind. It appears he was wounded, and he made his way over here, with the last monster in pursuit.”
Shunori walked slowly, following the trail, with Kohana close behind him. He stopped and looked down at the fallen body of a samurai with holes torn into his armor’s chest-plate. Another Destroyer lay next to him, its throat torn completely open.
“As you can see, even in death he managed to cut down his enemy.” Shunori looked admiringly at the fallen samurai. “A fine way to die. Had he been fighting a more honorable foe, I may have asked to record his name in the Ikoma Histories.”
“I think it is a shame for such a hero to pass away.” Kohana said sadly. She knelt next to the body and said a quiet prayer to the Fortunes.
“Away…” croaked the corpse in a thin voice. “Stay… away…”
Peering at the fallen samurai, Kohana gasped. “You live?” She stood up. “This one still lives!”
Isawa Kyoko quickly rushed to Kohana’s side and kneeled next to the fallen man, examining his wounds. She looked up at the Unicorn and nodded.
“His wounds are terrible. He will be one of the luckiest men to walk Rokugan if he survives.”
The Scorpion began shaking, and Kohana feared he was beginning the final convulsions before death. After a moment, she realized that broken man’s dry hacking was laughter. The Scorpion looked up at her with a mad gleam in his eyes. “The Dark Sword… knows… no fear!”
“Quiet, you,” Kyoko scolded. “I will try to ease your pain, but the less you move, the better.”
“There!” the Scorpion said, pointing weakly at another fallen body lying near the wagon. “You must… take it… away!”
Across the battlefield, Akio surveyed the “With the plague is spreading, we cannot risk these dead men remaining here, attracting carrion-feeders. If our maps are accurate, the nearest village is a day’s walk away.”
“There are no eta available? Then we will treat this site like a battlefield,” Shunori replied. “These men and women deserve as much. We have a priest. They will receive proper rites and cremation, and then we will be cleansed.”
Kyoko, barely turning away from her fallen charge, nodded in assent. The young bushi began the grisly task of preparing the dead.
Bayushi Kurumi approached the battlefield gingerly, as if she were stepping into a fetid swamp. A true creature of the courts, she had no desire to gain glory or honor the dead, but she also had no desire to remain on the hillside with the strange monk. As she approached, she noticed a small wooden box lying next to one of the fallen men – a man wearing tattered robes rather than the light armor of a Scorpion samurai. Something seemed familiar, almost compelling about it. She knelt next to the box and examined it: it seemed perfectly ordinary and nondescript, with a small lock that had shattered upon the box’s impact with the ground.
Kurumi reached inside – it was empty. She sat for a moment, puzzled, until Hideo caught her eye. Then a sudden realization came over her – she reached into the box, and felt around the corners until she heard a small click. Opening the false bottom, she reached deep into the container and took out what appeared to be a burnt scroll, then dropped it with a start. Its pages felt slick and oily, and it left a black residue like charcoal on her fingers.
Ichizo rushed forward. “Kurumi, what is it?”
On the top of the hill, Furumaro smiled. His words were barely more than a whisper, but they carried across the four winds:
“It is destiny.”
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