A Container of Sand

 
by
Rusty Priske
Editing and Development by Fred Wan


Outside the Tomb of the Seven Thunders

            Akuma lashed out at the Maw, knocking the creature back with the fury of its blows. The ground shook as the Maw recoiled and then charged, snapping with its massive jaws, its teeth dripping with blood and gore from the men it had already devoured. It nearly bowled Akuma over, but as the Oni Lord held its ground, the Maw bit into corrupted flesh. Akuma slammed down on the back of the creature, trying to force it to let go, but to no avail. The Maw’s jaw tightened and he bit down harder, as Akuma howled in pain. The noise was so terrible, so booming, that those fighting near the great beasts fell to the ground writhing in agony at the very sound of it.

The mighty Akuma managed to bend over despite the pain in its side, and grasped the Maw around the neck. As the Maw squeezed his jaws, Akuma squeezed its arms just as tightly. The two goliaths remained locked in this deadly dance for seconds that became minutes and minutes that seemed like days. Then something began to give.

Those samurai who were still alert enough to hear the sound might have compared it to the sound a mountain made when it was cracked in half by an earthquake, or perhaps the sound of a centuries-old tree being shattered by the wrathful lighting of Osano-Wo, Fortune of Fire and Thunder. Regardless, the cracking sound was audible across the battlefield as Akuma’s sheer might tore the Maw loose from its death grip on Akuma’s flesh. The Maw’s teeth, each larger than a man, snapped off from the sheer force Akuma exerted upon its enemy, and the Maw howled in primal agony as its black blood came out in great gouts, mixing with the foul ichor that seeped from Akuma’s wounds. With one final effort, Akuma tore the Maw free and shoved it away, hurling it to the ground with a thunderous crash.

The Maw climbed to its feet, its gaping jaws a bloodied ruin. Akuma stood only a short distance away, its abdomen torn and ragged from the battle. The two stared at one another with open hatred for only a moment, and then both roared a final, defiant cry of fury as they rushed at one another again.

As the two juggernauts collided, the Maw’s talons bit deeply into Akuma’s shoulders, tearing jagged chunks of flesh away from the bone. Akuma ignored the pain, latching both hands around the Maw’s thick neck and crushing with all its might. The tearing at his shoulders intensified, then took on a panicked energy as the Maw began to struggle for breath. Sensing victory, Akuma moved its hands up and seized its enemy by the jaws, then tore with all its sinister, otherworldly might.

The tearing sound as the Maw died was beyond terrible. Of the few humans still alive, fewer and fewer by the second, many screamed as well, their minds wavering with the sheer horror of what they were witnessing. Akuma dropped the jaws that it held in each hand, dropping them atop the massive, rapidly dying body of its enemy. The bloodlust was still upon it, and it lifted its head to the heavens and shrieked its anger, hatred, and lust for death in such a cacophony of pain that the thick, low-hanging clouds themselves were driven away. The beast turned, eager to continue its rampage.

And then it stopped, its battle rage dissipated in an instant.

Across the battlefield, there was a single human that Akuma’s keen eyes picked up instantly. The human was wreathed in white fire, and everything within the human’s immediate vicinity had burst into flames from the sheer heat of it. The fire began to spread, leaping from one demon to another, sparing nothing in its path as it grew wider. Akuma did not know what it was, could not know what the source of this fire was, but it knew the feeling that blossomed in its breast when it looked upon the burning human. It had felt such a sensation perhaps twice before in its entire existence, and it did not enjoy the experience. It was fear.

Oni no Akuma, greatest of the demon lords, leapt away from its kill without feeding. Clutching the terrible wounds in its abdomen, the demon lord ran from the white fire, somehow certain that if the fire touched its flesh, that it would know the aching oblivion of true death.

The demon lord did not stop. When it heard the distant screams of agony behind it, and when it felt the wave of heat that washed over it from the rapidly disappearing battlefield from behind it, it only ran faster.

 

           

Daigotsu Rekai surveyed the area around the Tomb. She had expected to see carnage – the battle between the oni and the samurai would demand it – but she did not expect this.

Everything was black and burned. Where there were once oni, now there was only their remains. Something had felled them where they stood, with such force that they were at least partially liquefied. She could tell that within a day or two, there would be nothing left to mark their passing at all.

The bodies of the samurai that had fallen here were also affected, but not in the same way. The bodies were all burned, even though there was no evidence of fire around them, apart from the dark discoloration. Faces were gone and limbs were shriveled down to stumps…yet clothes and armor remained intact.

As she made her way to the tomb proper, leading her steed behind her, she found the armor that once marked the Emerald Champion. It was blackened and twisted like everything else, but there was some color left in it. Perhaps the quality of the armor was such that it endured, or perhaps the small pond of filth in which it sat had once been something larger, something that had shielded it from the blast. It mattered little. Hachi’s body was as disfigured as the rest, but there was no mistaking it. She had seen it too many times to mistake it now. As Rekai’s eyes flashed around, searching for Hachi’s sword, there was a sound of movement. She leapt to readiness, drawing her katana in the space of a single heartbeat, prepared to face whatever had survived the carnage.

“A senseless waste,” a voice said from behind her. The deep voice resonated with power, and the words carried an accent that Rekai was not familiar with. The creature was humanoid, but she would not call him a man. The thing was taller than a man, and bore no hair of any sort. Its yellowish flesh rippled with muscle and sinew, and its low, sloping brow seemed unnatural somehow.

“Who are you and what is your business?”

“You have no need of that sword, Rekai. Not today. Like you, I serve the one who rules this land. I serve Daigotsu, though I have not taken his name as you have. I am called the Ghul Lord.”

Rekai nodded. She had never seen this creature from beyond the desert, but she had heard of him. The tales were gruesome. She had wondered in the past if they could all be true, and decided they could not. Now, she was not certain. “Why are you here?”

The Ghul Lord shook his head, sadly. “I came to give these samurai the privilege of serving Daigotsu, but it seems that will not be possible. The circumstances of their deaths has left them unfit even for the crafting of mindless drones.”

Rekai frowned in distaste at the sheer waste of it all. She returned to scanning the horizon. “How far does this go?”

“Roughly a mile, centered near the tomb. Nothing within survived.”

“What force could have caused this?” she demanded. “Kyoso’s demons?”

The Ghul Lord smirked. “Ridiculous. The humans stood no chance of survival. Kyoso would never have sacrificed her entire army just to kill them a few minutes sooner. Not even she is so wrathful and petulant. No, it was that one.” He gestured at a twisted lump of ash a short distance away. “I can still sense power in it. There are but two things that I can still sense in all this destruction, and that one is responsible for the devastation you see around you. It reeks of it.”

Rekai followed the direction he pointed until she found what could once have only been Toturi Naseru, the Righteous Emperor of Rokugan. His body was in even worse condition than the others, little more than a pile of ash draped in the remnants of a kimono and armor, but it was armor that she recognized. A glint of porcelain shone from his face, strangely at odds with the remains. Rekai examined it for a moment and then pried a small shard, no larger than a single koku, from where it had melted into the Emperor’s skin.

“Yes.” The Ghul Lord nodded. “That human used it to destroy all who were here. Its power lingers even now.”

Rekai slipped the porcelain shard into her obi and turned her attention back to the one who led her to it. “You said there were two things that you could still sense on the battlefield. If this is one, what is the other?”

The Ghul Lord tilted its head and turned to stare at Rekai’s steed, which nickered nervously and bared its fangs at the massive creature. “I had hoped you could tell me, since it resides in that bag on your mount. It calls to me in a siren song I have not heard in… in far too long. Whatever you carry, it is not of your land. Show it to me.” When Rekai hesitated, fury flashed in the Ghul Lord’s eyes. Spittle came from its mouth as it angrily repeated. “Show it to me!”

Rekai hesitated for a moment, instantly defensive at the creature’s insistence and threat of violence. A single finger trailed absently along the hilt of her blade. She could kill the creature, of that she was sure. And yet… she was curious. She did not know what the thing in the bag was, and she desperately wished to. Perhaps this Ghul Lord could be of use to her. She watched it warily as she untied the bundle from her horse, and exposed the item she believed to be a netsuke case that she had taken from the Tomb. It felt lighter than it had when she first lifted it. She held it where it could see the box, but not touch it.

The box was covered in jewels, most larger than any Rekai had ever seen, and was carved with the image of some manner of beetle all across it. It was unlike anything in the Empire, save perhaps for some vaguely similar objects she had seen in the Unicorn lands as a youth. There had been things there that bore similar adornments, but that had been so many years ago that she could not recall for certain what those objects had been or what purpose they had served other than decoration. At the sight of it, the Ghul Lord’s eyes came alive with a light that she had never seen in a creature of death such as itself. The jewels seemed to be of no interest to it, however, as it stared in rapture at the strange carvings along the box’s sides. “What is it?” she asked.

The Ghul Lord answered Rekai without removing its eyes from the case. “Those carvings are pictographs. I have seen their like before. I can translate them, given time. Give it to me, if you wish to know their meaning, and I will discover the secret behind it.”

“I think not.” Rekai re-covered the case. “I will take it to Daigotsu.”

The Ghul Lord’s fingers twitched as she removed the box from its sight. “Yes. Of course. I will accompany you. I can find the meaning for him. I am certain he will wish me to do so. Yes, let us go to Daigotsu.”

Rekai tied the bundle back onto her horse, never turning her back on her new traveling companion. “If you believe you can keep pace with me, by all means follow.” She fixed him with a pointed stare. “If you give me any reason to believe you will attempt to take it from me, however, then I will discover if creatures such as you can continue to exist with their unbeating hearts cut from their body. Do you understand?”

The creature smiled wryly and bowed with a mocking flourish. “Of course, my lady,” it said, its voice even once more. “You have nothing to fear, however. A vassal of lord Daigotsu will never be harmed by me, save at his command.”

“We shall see,” she said, and spurred her steed toward the south.

 

           

The Nezumi had scattered when told to run. They were not as foolish as the humans, who held their ground when there was no way to win. Tik’tch scrambled over the broken terrain, putting as much distance between the dark creatures and himself as he could. The Nezumi had agreed to help the human’s great chief, but the great chief was now gone and they needed to live to return to their tribe.

He stopped for a moment and sniffed the air, looking for signs of pursuit. He found none, but there was still a scent he recognized. Oh’krch burst out of the underbrush behind him, nearly knocking him to the ground in his haste. “Oh! Tik’tch!” the scout chattered excitedly. “Hurry! We have to keep moving!”

“Wait, Oh’krch. The dark beasts are not chasing. They fight against the other men. They do not spare their anger for the Nezumi.”

Oh’krch shook his head woefully. “We cannot take that chance. We must get the new treasure back to the war-chief. Come! Come quickly!”

Oh’krch dashed off as fast as he had arrived. Tik’tch watched him go and wondered if the scout had seen Tik’tch steal from the samurai. The idea of stealing was something that the humans had taught them. To Tik’tch, the things had been hidden in a lost warren, forgotten from countless yesterdays ago. How could any of the humans claim they should have them instead of the Nezumi? It was foolish, but humans were foolish creatures. Would the war-chief be angry? Would he believe that Tik’tch had brought the humans’ anger on the Broken Shinbone? If so, the war-chief might take the treasure from him and give it back to the humans.

In the end, his concerns were less important than his sense of duty to the One Tribe, and he ran after the rapidly disappearing Oh’krch. The two ran for hours. Tik’tch had no idea where they were headed, but Oh’krch seemed to follow an exact course. There was no doubt he had a destination in mind. Soon they found themselves in the shadow of the humans’ great wall. Oh’krch motioned Tik’tch forward. “Here. The Third Whisker will show us the way. Come!”

Tik’tch followed Oh’krch as he slipped behind a boulder and found a small opening in the base of the wall. It was not large enough for most of the creatures on this side, or even most humans for that matter. He followed as the hole became a tunnel and the tunnel became a maze. It was not long, however, before Tik’tch could smell others of his kind. Finally they approached a light ahead and found a tiny warren, carved out of rock. The survivors of the Broken Shinbone pack that had gone into the Shadowlands were here.

“War-chief Set’tch, pup of great chief Set’tch’chet. We have come and we bear something of value from the human tomb!”

Now Tik’tch panicked. “No! It is mine and I am not of your tribe! You do not get to take from the Grasping Paw just because we helped to scout for the humans! It is mine!”

Before Tik’tch could register the confused look on Oh’krch’s face, two Nezumi appeared from a different tunnel. “You do not need to surrender your treasure to the Broken Shinbone, Tik’tch, but will you allow me to see it?”

The young scout’s eyes winded in surprise and his whiskers twitched nervously. “I am sorry, Chief-of-chiefs Kan’okt’icheck. I did not realize you were here.”

The grizzled nezumi, his white fur tattered and worn from too many battles, dismissed Tik’tch’s fears with a flick of his tail and a twitch of his whiskers. “Do not worry. I only wish to see what you have found.”

Tik’tch nodded and produced a small bag, passing it to the One Tribe chief. “I took it from the dark one who rode with the samurai. It feels like sand, but it smells strange, and it was in a shiny box she took from the tomb. I took it because I saw one of the dark ones kill Chitik, and it made me angry. I wanted to take something of theirs, but I was afraid to take the box. I was afraid the dark ones would kill me.”

Kan’ok’ticheck looked in the bag and said, “Do not worry, Tik’tch. You did well.” The chieftain turned to the Shinbone war-chief. “Does this mean anything to you, Set’tch?”

The war-chief leaned forward and sniffed the sands carefully, as if he thought they might leap up at him. “This is similar to the sand that lies north of the Broken Shinbone lands,” he said. “A great amount of it is there. As much as the water in the great sea, or as far as the dark lands from which we returned.”

“Your tribe remembers the sands,” Kan’ok’ticheck said quietly.

“Our Rememberers tell us that there are evil spirits among the sands,” the war-chief confirmed. “Dark things that have hunted us since many Yesterdays ago. It is why the Shinbone did not follow the Gohei-Butcher when he left, the Rememberers say. Because the spirits from the sand would kill us.”

“I see no spirits,” the Chief-of-chiefs said.

“No,” Set’tch agreed quietly. “No spirits.”

“Strange sand,” Kan’ok’tichek said. He tested the bag’s weight in his paw for a moment, then handed it back to Tik’tch, then turned to Oh’krch. “Interesting, but I think this is not what you meant.”

Oh’krch shook his head. “No. I did not even know about that.” Tik’tch’s head drooped.

“Then what did you find?”

“I took this from the tomb while the humans were gathering things.” O’krch produced an hourglass. “I do not know what it is, but it also contains sand.” He handed the hourglass to Kan’ok’ticheck.

He turned it over, watching the sand drain down, before flipping it back again. “It tingles. Atch-zin, look at it, please.” The nezumi that had entered with Kan’ok’ticheck stepped forward. He was an old rat, covered in thick, red hair. His garb and accoutrements marked him as a shaman.

He took the hourglass and nearly dropped it, pulling his hand back like it was burned. “It… is… Tomorrow.”

Every nezumi in the cave, other than Kan’ok’tichek, shrank back, away from the hourglass. The white rat frowned and said, “Can you show me, Atch-zin? Show me what it is?”

The shaman’s nose twitched, but he did not withdraw. He nodded and reached out to both Kan’ok’ticheck and the hourglass. When he made contact, he closed his eyes and shuddered. The chief also shut his eyes and was visibly shaken but whatever was going on behind his eyelids. Atch-zin held the connection until Kan’ok’ticheck pushed him away, though it was clearly very difficult for both of them.

They both took a moment but then Kan’ok’ticheck drew himself up and addressed the other nezumi, cowering in fear. “He was right. This is Tomorrow. It is coming.” He paused and looked from face to face. “It is coming, but it is no longer time to flee. When Tomorrow comes, we will face it and refuse it. The One Tribe will stand together and we will not be lost into memory.

“Tomorrow comes, but we will defeat it.”