The machinations of the Spider against the Destroyers are laid bare as their lord and master confronts his opposite number among the ranks of Kali-Ma’s forces.
The Harbinger
By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan
Daigotsu Gyoken sat down on the worn boulder where he had become accustomed to eating his midday meal and looked at the contents of the small wooden bowl with some degree of foreboding. What might be in it today? What dark secrets and hideous revelations were contained within the enigma that Udo referred to as stew?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Chuda Shuzo said gruffly, sitting down next to him. “Chew. Don’t think. It makes life easier.”
After a moment, Gyoken shrugged. “It does not matter, I suppose. Udo’s creations taste good enough, if you ignore the reality of what you are eating.” He began shoveling the gruel into his mouth, nodding slightly in appreciation and shoving thoughts of its contents as far back into his mind as he could.
“I did not know that you were back from the Empire,” Shuzo said, chewing thoughtfully as he stared at one of the spires across the divide.
“I only arrived last night,” Gyoken replied.
“When do you leave again?”
The younger man shrugged. “A week or so, most likely. Who knows? There is much to do in the Empire.”
Shuzo nodded absently, his eyes never leaving the spire. “Do you suppose it’s true?”
“Bah,” Gyoken said, dropping his nearly empty bowl with a clatter. “Must we have this conversation again? Really?”
“How can you not be curious?” Shuzo demanded, sounding almost offended. “You know what they say! You know that the Dark Lord enters daily for at least an hour, sometimes much longer.”
“Daigotsu-sama can do as he pleases, and it is not for such as me to question,” Gyoken said. “Your curiosity will lead to you a bad end, my friend.”
“Imagine if it is true!” Shuzo said, seeming not to hear Gyoken. “Imagine what could be gained from time spent in that room! Even an hour, a moment! The power that could be unleashed. I can almost taste it in the air!”
“That is probably just the aftertaste from your meal. We are a naturally ambitious people, however,” Gyoken observed. “Your family in particular has that quality in abundance. No offense intended.”
“None taken,” Shuzo said with a shrug.
“It is natural to wonder what might be gleaned, if the rumors are true,” Gyoken said. “Which is why, I suppose, that such drastic measures are taken to ensure that we all know the penalty for disobedience.”
Shuzo paled slightly. “You speak of Tsanru,” he said. “You heard about that?”
“I have my ways,” Gyoken said. “I heard that they gave him over to Isoroku, to be dealt with by his creatures.”
“And then to become one of them,” Shuzo agreed. “A fate beyond horrible.”
“A fate you will share sooner or later if you don’t temper your curiosity and your ambition,” Gyoken said, pointing at the shugenja.
Shuzo sighed and nodded. “You are right, of course.”
Gyoken noticed that he did not stop staring at the spire.
* * * * *
“Ghuls take this cursed place!” Master Saleh swore, rubbing his hands briskly against his robed shoulders. “How can these people live in such a wretchedly cold land?”
Fatina laughed. It was a high, almost musical sound that caused her veil to flutter ever so slightly. “How long has it been, now? And you still have not grown accustomed to it? Honestly, how you have lived this long is an enigma.”
“I am not interested in your impressions or your irreverence,” Saleh said with a snarl. He glanced around at the interior of the chambers that had been carved from within the spire they had been assigned. “What a dismal appointment,” he said with a sneer. “We should be living as caliphs!”
“Try to keep in mind that before this, we dwelled in lairs carved from the sewers in the Jewel of the Burning Sands,” Fatina said. “I find this a considerable improvement.”
“We are prisoners,” Saleh said. He attempted to hold his tongue, but months spent in these conditions had deadened even his reservations regarding Fatina’s periodic bouts of insanity. “Surely even you can recognize that?”
“I recognize that the Dark Lord detained us until such time as he saw clearly that our stories were not fits of fancy. He knows now that we came to him with the truth. Has he not held parlay with us to learn more? Our contributions increase in importance with each passing day.”
“Until such time as we have nothing further of use to him,” Saleh muttered darkly. “Then our fates are sealed.”
“Are they?” Fatina asked.
The old sorcerer ignored the barb. “I cannot believe that we are confined here while the Monkey Man is allowed to roam free. The Monkey Man!”
“He is mad, for the most part,” Fatina observed. “The truly mad have no hidden agenda. They simply… are.”
“This particular madman is one of the most powerful seers born in this or any generation. It seems hardly fair for such power to be contained in the enfeebled mind of a buffoon.”
“Fair is not a word you have any business using.”
“Oh, enough of this,” Saleh said, exasperated. “I am weary of the constant trading of barbs, the monotony of this chamber… all of it! I am exhausted with this existence. When the Dark Lord returns, he must meet my demands or I will help him no further.”
“Excellent!” Fatina said, clapping her hands like a small girl. “Your death will make me even more valuable to Daigotsu!”
Saleh practically snarled. “The Dark Lord will wish our aid, with the Ebon Daughter barking at his door.”
“Do not speak of her,” Fatina said, her voice suddenly dark.
“Not to mention what we can tell him of Kali-Ma…”
“DO NOT SPEAK THAT NAME!” Fatina roared suddenly.
Saleh took a step back despite himself. “Mere names hold no power.”
“You preposterous fool!” Fatina spat. “You have no idea how things truly work, how the structure of the world bends and flows around the use of words!”
Saleh shook his head. “You are surely as mad as the Monkey Man.”
“All that matters is that the Destroying One is here, her wrath is unleashed, and her fury is fueled by the greatest and darkest victory the world has ever known. When Daigotsu realizes the true nature of that which he faces, then we will stand among his closest advisors.” She shrugged. “It is merely a matter of time. This shall be a tale told until the end of the world.”
“I would prefer not to be so close to it as it happens,” Saleh muttered.
* * * * *
The man known as Michio sat concealed within the shadows of a large overhang within the Twilight Mountains. The sun was high within the sky, but he had not moved since before dawn. The cold wind stung his flesh, but he barely noticed. The weak, fleshy thing he had once been would have noticed the pain, but Micho had grown beyond such things. There was nothing left of that time, of that life, and he rarely dwelled upon it. On those rare occasions when he did, he looked upon his previous life with the same scorn that he normally reserved for the mindless, subservient samurai of the Empire.
Behind him, two more figures waited in the shadow, equally silent, equally motionless. Michio would have preferred to perform the task himself or, failing that, to have used others of his order. His lord had insisted, however, and so he had brought the men that Daigotsu had selected. Men was a charitable term, of course, but Michio preferred not to openly dismiss his lord’s other servants unless they had specifically failed in some way. These two had not, at least not as far as Michio was aware, and they had not cluttered the duty with meaningless conversation as so many others would have done.
Finally, after countless hours, what the trio had been waiting for appeared to be at hand. In the valley below them, the ground was completely obscured by the tight ranks of the iron-clad things that the Rokugani were calling Destroyers. The ranks had been filing past since first light, and Michio conservatively estimated that he had seen at least ten thousand of them pass by so far, possibly more, and there was no end to their ranks as far as he could tell. These were reinforcements, additional forces slowly making their way north to join the offensive against the united efforts of the Crab, Lion, and Unicorn. Now, a trio of the iron beasts were climbing the winding path to the area where Michio and his cohorts had concealed themselves. From what the monk had been able to tell over the course of a week spent observing the Destroyers’ ranks, they occasionally sent small numbers off to the side of the main body. He was not sure why. They did not appear to be scouts, and seemed to accomplish nothing of note before returning to formation. But then they were gaijin, and could not be expected to behave in a sane manner.
Michio tensed very slightly, testing the state of his limbs as he watched the three Destroyers climb slowly toward his position. Under different circumstances, he might admire what the gaijn filth were accomplishing against the clans. But he had seen the front lines, and the victories the gaijin were achieving were won not through skill or prowess, but through sheer numbers and supernatural might. That was not a true measure of a force, or even of a single man. And so for the first time, the monk found himself in a position not to oppose the Great Clans. Ultimately, the only possible positive outcome was for both enemies to destroy one another, but that seemed unlikely. Sooner or later, the Spider would have to deal with one of them.
And that meant they would feel Michio’s might.
“The lead is mine,” he whispered hoarsely, and darted out from cover like a cat springing from hiding onto its prey. He moved across the stony ground quicker than a shadow, like a ray of light itself, and reached the first Destroyer before it had even registered his presence. He levied a powerful strike against the center of its chest, sending it staggering backwards, upright but off balance. There was an instance of searing pain through Michio’s arm, but he put the pain away; he had no time or use for such trivialities.
The Destroyer on the left had time to raise its weapon to deflect the first strike from Daigotsu Eiya, but the swordsman was vastly faster than the metallic monstrosity. He launched a series of deft attacks, each one chipping away at the thing’s defenses, each one closer to striking true. Eiya finally ducked under one of the creature’s ponderous strikes, slow but surely powerful enough to shatter stone itself, then spun and brought his blade down in a powerful overhand strike. Michio heard him grunt with effort as the loud, bracing sound of his blade shearing through the weaker shoulder of the thing, cutting off both arms on its right side. With its defenses compromised, Eiya buried his blade into the thing’s neck and beheaded it only seconds later.
The rightmost Destroyer seemed more alert and prepared for the attack, and had its blades up before the three Spider reached it. The ruthless, unconventional attack style of Daigotsu Yuhmi was countered, albeit cautiously and without counterattacks, leaving the thing intact far longer than its counterpart. The two seemed evenly matched, but Michio sensed a predator’s glee from the ever-silent Yuhmi, and knew that he was playing with the thing. Disgust filled the monk. Yuhmi was a monstrosity, and a true warrior lived for the thrill of victory, not the piddling joy of toying with one’s prey. There was a sudden gap in the thing’s defenses, and Yuhmi was on it in a flash. The thing that was not a man reached into the Destroyer’s gaping maw and ripped something loose, his hand coming back full and covered with a thick, black fluid that might have been blood. The thing staggered and fell.
Leaving only Michio’s opponent.
A rapid roundhouse followed by a lighting fast sweep left the thing on its back on the cold rock. “Pin its arms,” Michio barked, and the two things accompanying him did so. Their strength, literally inhuman, was barely enough to constrain the creature, but hold it they did. Michio stood astride it and closed his eyes, summoning his inner reserves. He felt the energy of will and strength flow through him, concentrating in his arm, his fist becoming like a thing of steel and destiny. With a short kiai, he struck downward like a thunderbolt, and the iron of the thing’s chest shattered open.
Michio reflexively shielded his eyes from the otherworldly glow emanating from within the thing’s chest. The light in its mouth and eyes dimmed as the energy within its chest cascaded into the air and dissipated like morning fog. For a brief moment, Michio thought he heard whispers, voices in a strange tongue that he had never heard before.
For the first time in as long as he could remember, Micho swore. “Fortunes,” he spat. “It’s true. It’s all true.”
* * * * *
The mid-winter winds were enough to flay the flesh from a man’s bones, if he were not prepared to deal with them. Such concerns were beneath the Dark Lord of the Shadowlands, however. The winds did little more than ruffle the hem of his robe, its midnight hue standing in sharp contrast to the faded grey of the plateau around him. The area was utterly empty, or so it appeared. Daigotsu did not look with his eyes, however, but extended his perception well beyond the paltry limitations of sight. “Show yourself,” he commanded, his voice low and even.
The kami of the air swirled suddenly, breaking free from the pattern of the winter winds and spinning in a miniature cyclone that seemed to tear away whatever the woman had used to conceal herself. She laughed merrily, like a child might, and smiled at him. It was a genuine expression, one of true mirth. “It is so refreshing to command the kami once again,” she said with a sigh. “I had forgotten how much I relished it before… well, before my departure from this land.”
“It was foolish to come here.”
She raised an eyebrow. It was a strange expression when considered with the outrageous outfit she was wearing. Something from the Sands, surely. “We must speak. If only this once. There is a chance for an understanding.”
Daigotsu’s expression did not change. “How ruthlessly naïve of you.”
“The goddess wishes capitulation or destruction,” the woman continued. “She has not yet embraced the notion of gathering more of her elite vassals from your Empire. She has taken servitors from the lands she has conquered, and from the cultures she has encountered.” Her eyes lit up. “When she meets you, understands what you are capable of, she will bless you with the privilege of service in her name! She will see, as I see, your incredible potential!”
“The Ebon Daughter. That is what you call yourself, is it not?” Daigotsu tilted his head to the side. “You should have chosen something less dramatic. Something more apropos. Perhaps ‘the Insolent Cow’ or some such.”
Anger flashed in the Daughter’s eyes, but only for a moment. “Your will is strong. That will help you. The power the goddess offers you, it will be simpler for you because of your self-control.”
“Your goddess has nothing that I need,” Daigotsu says. “I will see her bones bleached in the sun. She is no goddess. Simply carrion that has yet to surrender.”
“Do not blaspheme!” she snarled. “You have no place to speak of such things. Carrion? Do you speak of my goddess, or your god?”
“Hold your tongue,” Daigotsu cautioned.
“Even you, his most devoted follower, must now realize the truth,” she said, her tone mocking. “The infernal forces of the universe have grown weary of his failure. He has been cast down, removed from power. Your god has failed for more than ten centuries. My goddess has succeeded! And now she stands supreme as the avatar of darkness in the mortal world!”
“I will not hear this,” Daigotsu said.
“You know the truth!” the Ebon Daughter laughed. “You know because you have seen him! He is here, isn’t he?” She looked past the Dark Lord to the spires in the distance. “He lays hidden in your Fingers of Bone, does he not? His body shattered and mortal, his power broken and waning. Are you more powerful than he is now? How it must feel to witness your lord reduced to such a state!”
“I will caution you one final time to be silent,” Daigotsu said. His voice was little more than a whisper.
“Fu Leng is dead!” the Ebon Daughter shouted. “Dead or dying! Kali-Ma lives and shall rule over this shattered Empire and remake the whole of the world in her image!” She looked at him with pity. “I can sense the weight you bear. I know the suffering you must know. What is it that shrouds your soul now? Is it despair? Is it fear? I can free you of these things!”
“I know neither despair, nor fear,” Daigotsu said.
“What is it then?” she pressed. “What is the storm in your heart?”
“An indulgence I rarely allow myself,” Daigotsu admitted. “Rage.”
The Dark Lord crossed the distance between the two figures in the blink of an eye. His hand gripped her throat, the talons of a Sanuro no Oni sprouting from his fingertips. She summoned defenses, potent ones, but he was prepared, and he battered them aside with the sheer brunt of the power at his command.
The Ebon Daughter gasped, but the light in her eyes was not fear. To Daigotsu’s great disgust, it seemed to be desire. “By the goddess,” she rasped, “I dared not even imagine. Your power… it is magnificent.”
“I will tear your soul from your body and let the maggots feast on your remains,” Daigotsu snarled around a mouthful of fangs.
“And who will take my place?” she laughed. “Who will inherit my goddess’ power and come seeking vengeance for this slight?”
“Kali-Ma may send as many as she wishes. I will build a shrine to my lord with the corpses of her dead vassals.”
“Sooner or later she will find someone you cannot kill,” the Daughter laughed. “What about your vassals? What about your family? Can you be sure they are safe?”
Daigotsu’s reply was an inarticulate snarl, his face deformed by the countenance of a demon. His features shrank back through an incredible feat of will. “You will live this once, and this once only, because I allow it. Take a message to your harlot of a goddess, and tell her that this Empire belongs to Fu Leng and his scions among the Daigotsu. She may leave with her forces intact if she wishes, but if she remains, she and all her will be put to the torch before the matter is concluded.” He leaned in, squeezing her throat almost to the point of crushing it.
“This is my Empire,” he hissed, dragging a talon down the side of her face, leaving a great bloody gash in its wake. “And I will burn the world to protect it.”
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