L5r - scroll 05 - The Crab (34 page)

"Who says these things?"

The oni smiled again.

"I do!" answered Kuni Yori, who had appeared on the rampart next to Yakamo. His voice also echoed across the field for all to hear. Clearly the shugenja had cast a spell so that the assembled armies could hear this conversation. "The weakling Hantei is dead, replaced by a strong presence—a presence with which we are already allied."

The words hit the young Hida like a tetsubo. He took a step backward, nearly tumbling off the Wall.

"What's more, the Great Bear is dead—or as good as dead," the shugenja looked to the street below, where healers tended Kisada. The old man was alarmingly pale. From this height it was difficult to tell if he were still breathing. "The Crab Clan requires guidance. The soldiers are uncertain what to do."

"We must rally our forces," Yakamo said, keenly aware that every samurai in his army could hear his words. He was not ready to lead—not in his heart—but he had no choice. "The Dark God

Fu Leng sits on the Emerald Throne. We must gather our strength to drive him out!"

"And replace him with whom?" asked Yori. "Kisada is dead."

"Stop saying that!"

"We must face facts," the shugenja said not unkindly. To the others he must seem to be consoling Yakamo, but the young Hida saw the mocking twinkle in Yori's eye. "The Great Bear was a man the other clans could accept on the throne. You, though every inch his son, do not yet have Kisada's presence and authority. You would be just another usurper—and one they would overthrow. If your father's death, indeed his entire life, is not to have been in vain, we must continue down the path he chose."

Yakamo growled at Yori. The shugenja's eyes widened, and he took a step back. Yakamo turned to face the oni and fixed it with a similar glare—one that vowed defiance no matter what the cost.

Placing both hands on the Wall, he spoke.

"We have gone the wrong way," he said, his voice reaching every ear on the field. "We came to a fork in the road, and we chose the wrong path."

Kuni Yori waved his hands as if casting a spell—or perhaps breaking the one that allowed Yakamo's voice to be heard. The young Hida shot the shugenja another dangerous glare, and Yori ceased.

"No, that's not right," Yakamo continued, his voice still echoing.
"You
did nothing wrong. You followed your daimyo. You remained loyal to your clan. You acted in exactly the way samurai should. After all, my father is a great man—a great daimyo. He saw a chance to change the empire for the better, and he took it. And we took it with him. We used every tool possible to achieve his goal for the sake of the Crab Clan, for all of Rokugan. After all, if we fail, the empire falls."

A murmur of agreement rolled across the field.

"Well we have succeeded—and the empire is about to fall!"

Silence.

"Our daimyo ..." He paused. "My father stormed the Imperial Palace and discovered the last Hantei completely in the thrall of Fu Leng. He uncovered a plot that threatens the future of Rokugan. But he was wrong to do so!"

The crowd grumbled in confusion.

"How can that be?" called out a samurai at the bottom of the Wall.

"Because he should never have been in Otosan Uchi to begin with," answered Yakamo. "The Dark God needed our help to shatter the empire. Fu Leng is not strong enough to break the bonds between the clans. Only our own greedy souls could do that.

"The Crab have
one
duty—we have always had just one duty—to stand on a wall and protect the empire from the evil of Fu Leng. It is not our job to right the injustices or inequities within the empire itself. No, our job is to protect the land, the people, and the spirit that is Rokugan so that we all can find our way without being crushed by the evil outside.

"My father failed to remember that duty, and so we have failed to carry it out."

A faint, mournful wind blew across the plain.

"Some say that the hardest part about living an honorable life is never giving in to temptation. They are wrong. The hardest part is picking yourself up after you've failed, standing up, and resuming your place on the Wall."

The crowd murmured, but whether in agreement or dissent remained unclear.

"I fell off the Wall just like the rest of the clan, but the proof of my fall is much more evident!" Yakamo raised his left arm in the air, showing the vile claw to the crowd. "I lost my hand in a fair duel. Instead of bearing my wound with pride and honor, I invited evil and dishonor into my very body."

Some of the samurai raised their katanas and other weapons above their heads and shouted encouragement. Others scuffed their feet and spat on the ground. Yakamo could get no sense which group was in the majority.

"My father's adviser," he said glaring menacingly at Yori, "would have you believe that we have no choice other than to continue down the path we're on, despite how wrong that path is.

But we do have a choice. We can choose to do what is right and honorable, no matter how difficult it might be—no matter how far we've wandered, and no matter what the other clans think of us. There are many other choices we can make, but there is only one right choice."

Yakamo now raised his right hand. In it he held the Ancestral Sword of the Crab Clan. With a mighty swing, he struck the bindings that held the claw to his left arm. Pain wracked his body, and the leather straps bled a thick, black ooze where the sword had struck. Still the claw remained attached.

"Hida Kisada made a wrong choice—one single wrong choice—a small step off the path of honor. It led to other choices and on to others, each but a small step away, but it was that one first wrong step that led us to this day—led me to this state."

Again Yakamo raised the blade, this time striking the straps where they connected to the claw. Sparks flew as he struck again and again until at last the straps fell from his arm to the ground below.

Cheers rose from at least half of the assembled Crab, but they quickly transformed into gasps of horror. The Shadowlands forces, on the other hand, winced in pain as Yakamo struck the claw but cried in glee when they saw what had silenced the samurai.

Though the straps were gone, the claw itself clung tenaciously to Yakamo's arm. The metal dug into the flesh where his wrist used to be and held tight, like a drowning man clinging to a log. And where it touched him, Yakamo's skin had turned black and putrid.

"But it is not too late. We cannot undo all the harm done to the empire and to our own spirits in the past two years, but we can return to that right path. We can do what must be done."

The Shadowlands creatures nervously huddled together. Trying not to attract attention, they shifted toward samurai who seemed unhappy with Yakamo's speech.

"My father's mistake was in not listening to the opinion of his adviser, nor accepting this
creature's
aid." He pointed his weapon toward the oni. "No, the mistake he made was sitting eye to eye with this monster—to whom I later gave my name—and not immediately splitting its skull!"

Yakamo no Oni seethed with fury. It reached up toward its namesake, tendrils writhing, transforming its hands into claws.

With a smile, Hida Yakamo raised the Ancestral Sword of the Crab Clan over his head. He held it there as if frozen in time, then brought it crashing down on his own arm with all the strength he could muster.

Yakamo no Oni flinched and clutched its chest.

Kuni Yori disappeared from the Wall as quickly and mysteriously as he'd arrived.

Hida Yakamo howled in triumph.

The claw fell to the battlement, dripping the last of its black life out onto the cold Rokugani stone.

Yakamo's arm bled again, his wound reopened by the katana, but it was a good, rich blood—red like the coming dawn.

"There is no mistake that cannot be redressed. Our karma is what we have made it—it is not beyond correction. I don't know about the rest of you," Yakamo said through clenched teeth, "but I intend to do what's
rightl"

Thousands of voices, loyal Crab voices, raised a mighty "Banzai!"

Yakamo clutched his father's sword in his one good hand and threw himself off the battlement toward the startled oni.

LEAP OF FAITH

Back! Back to the unholy pit that spawned you!"

Yakamo landed on the oni and swung his ancestor's sword with reckless abandon. Though he had only one arm and fought with a weapon he hadn't wielded in years, the ferocity of his blows forced his foe to the defensive.

The katana was the traditional sword of the samurai—indeed, it represented his very soul. The young Hida considered the fact that he had kept his katana in its sheath for so many years, occasionally taking it out and polishing it but never actually putting it to use. It was a decoration to him, another piece of ceremonial gear to be strapped onto his armor each day.

But in this darkest hour, when the fate of the entire clan hung on his action, the Ancestral Sword of the Crab Clan felt like an extension of his arm. Unlike the thrice-damned claw, the katana did not come with any pain or imbalance.

It simply filled his heart with light and gave him the will to fight on.

Yakamo no Oni waved its arms wildly. The sword cut them. Finally its fist connected with the human and sent Yakamo tumbling to the ground.

All around him, other battles raged. Very few soldiers came to the aid of their fellows—it was too difficult to tell who was friend and who was foe. Was your lifelong compatriot supporting Yakamo's cause? Indeed, which Yakamo's cause?

Yakamo no Oni growled something unintelligible and struck out with its giant fists.

Hida Yakamo leapt out of the way. He stared at the Shadow-lands leader with unmasked horror. He was looking at himself, looking at exactly what he had become over the past few years. This creature, with its crimson sinews and glowing eyes, was a direct reflection of Yakamo's soul.

The thought filled the Crab with rage.

"I take back my name!" he cried. "I take back everything! I deny you, oni! You are
not
a Hida! You are not a member of this clan! I will drive you and your misbegotten army off the blessed soil of Rokugan, back to the fetid Shadowlands!"

The oni laughed. "Little Crab," it chuckled, its voice regaining much of the scratchy, strained quality it had when they'd first met. "Was it only this morning that you called me 'Brother'? You do not know your own mind, let alone your heart. Your grief for your father has blinded you to the truth you know deep in your soul—the cause for which we've fought all these months."

Yakamo launched another round of attacks. The Sword of the Crab bit shallowly into the ropy tendrils of the oni's left hand. A sizzling sound filled the air, along with the smell of burning flesh. Steam escaped the open wound.

The creature pulled its hand away but did not resume its assault. It seemed reluctant to hurt Yakamo.

"Stop this senseless battle before I have no choice but to kill you," it implored. "We are family, we are the same. Join me, and I will put you on the throne. Fu Leng has no need for such petty things. You can accomplish everything your father set out to do— you can rule the Emerald Empire!"

Did the creature really think Yakamo could be tempted?

The sound of clanking armor made him turn. A dozen zombies converged behind him as quietly as their undead shuffling allowed. He was surrounded.

"Never!" he yelled. "I do not want to rule! I am a Crab! I want only to fulfill my ancestral promise to keep the empire safe from you—or die trying."

Yakamo launched himself at the oni, hoping his quickness and ferocity would take the creature by surprise. All he got for his troubles was a mighty backhanded blow from the oni's ropy fist. It rattled his jaw and sent him flying back into the bloody muck. Tumbling head over heals, Yakamo could not hold on to his sword. Skidding face first through the mud, he came to rest at the feet of the first zombie.

"That, I cannot allow," said the oni with a malicious grin. "My samurai will make sure that your life is safe, but they have no compunction about making it unpleasant—painfully unpleasant."

The young Hida clawed his way to his hands and knees. Of course the oni wanted him alive. The creature drew power from its connection to him. A name did the oni no good if it belonged to a dead man.

Several pairs of zombie feet, all clad in Crab armor, surrounded him. Undead hands grabbed Yakamos arms and pinned them back. Helpless, he looked up into familiar, if lifeless, eyes.

"Hiruma Waka!" Yakamo gasped.

It was indeed his father's old friend, his own former mentor. In its hands, the Waka zombie held the Ancestral Sword of the Crab. It seemed somehow fitting that the forces of darkness would use that against him. The zombie raised the sacred sword over its head.

Yakamo did not avert his gaze. He looked Waka right in his unseeing eyes and shed a single, bitter tear of pride.

The creature that used to be Yakamo's teacher paused. Beneath putrid flesh, decaying muscles twitched, but the sword did not fly.

270 # S
tan! ■«

Suddenly, the creature that once was Hiruma Waka let loose a sound like all the demons in creation baying at once and launched itself at Yakamo no Oni.