L5r - scroll 05 - The Crab (6 page)

"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."

The Crab samurai rattled their katana and thumped their polearms on the ground. A chitter of excitement echoed through the mist surrounding the plateau.

The Great Bear chuckled again.

"A very pretty speech," he said. "But why would I want the throne? I spend all my time avoiding having to go to Otosan Uchi. If you had been watching me half as closely as you claim, you'd know that such an offer holds no appeal to me."

"What I know is that you are out of favor with the emperor," said the oni. "You have no interest in playing the games of politics and intrigue encouraged in his court. The other clans play them, though, to gain power in the coming days."

Kisada nodded mutely.

"But if you led the empire, you could do away with the posturing and preening in the Imperial Court. You could turn the Forbidden City once again into a true seat of power."

Chants of "Emperor Hida!" began to drift across the plateau and into the misty land beyond.

Though he was as critical of the imperial family as anyone, Kisada did not like the wind of sedition that this creature of darkness was blowing through his troops.

"You would do well," the Great Bear said, "to remember that these 'powerless' Hantei have held the Dark God and all his forces at bay since the dawn of time."

"The reigning Hantei is old, and his heir is weak," the oni grunted, much to the delight of the crowd. "Their hold on power is tenuous. Fu Leng will have his revenge on the hated Hantei, and he is not particular about how he gets it. If someone else sat the throne—someone of true character, whom the Shadowlands knew as a brave and honored opponent—then I could turn his anger. With you on the throne, Hida Kisada, I could promise the continuance of your line, security for your empire, and peace for a thousand years."

AXXXXXXX

"Perhaps it would have been wiser not to laugh quite so uproariously at the oni's proposal," said Kuni Yori as they rode back toward the Crab lands.

"Shut up, magician!" Kisada was not disposed to listen to any further advice Yori had on the matter. "What else would you have me do in the face of so ridiculous a suggestion?"

"If the beast's waggling tongue offended you so, why did you not kill it?" Yori peered at Kisada from within the folds of his shugenja's robe.

The Great Bear said nothing. He could think of several reasons to leave the oni imprisoned in Yori's magical cage rather than killing it outright. None of them had the ring of truth. The truth, as much as he hated to admit it, was that Kisada
was
tempted by the oni's suggestion.

"The oni was right about one thing," Yakamo said hesitantly. "The empire would be better with a warrior like you on the throne."

The Great Bear spun in his saddle and slammed the back of his hand across his son's face. The full battle helmet Yakamo wore softened the blow, but the impact still resonated. Kisada was a

demanding leader and a stern father, but he almost never struck his samurai, much less his children.

"The Crab are not politicians, and we are not kingmakers. We do not throw our support behind one emperor and withhold it from the next. Our job is to defend the empire no matter
who
sits on the Emerald Throne." Kisada regretted the act immediately. His son had merely voiced the same thoughts he himself was struggling with. But violent discipline was the only way to deal with such awful temptation. Kisada had to be absolutely resolute in his rejection of this idea. Otherwise it would never go away.

Yakamo said quietly, "If karma ever put one of us on the throne—"

The Great Bear flashed him a cold glare.

Behind them, Kuni Yori smiled with undisguised delight.

"If that ever happens, dark times will have fallen upon the empire, indeed," said Kisada. "The balance between the Hantei and the clans has held for a thousand years. It is the cornerstone of the empire. Anything that undoes that balance can only mean the end of everything that has kept us standing on the Wall for generations."

As if to bolster Kisada's determination, the group crested a small rise, and the Wall came into view. There was a great deal of commotion on the towers, though no battle was underway.