Age of the Lotus

by Rich Wulf

“The Heir of Shinsei is dead, Hira,” Sekawa said in a tired voice. “Nothing we do will change that. We must protect our own future now.”

Asahina Hira stared evenly at Sekawa’s back as she stepped into the musty cavern. The Jade Champion sat on the earthen floor, oblivious to the water that seeped from the roof and pooled around him. His fine sapphire kimono and emerald haori were now streaked with dampness and filth.

“Sekawa, what has happened to you?” she asked.

“Keitaro sent you,” he replied tersely. It was not a question; he already knew.

“He worries about you, Sekawa,” Hira answered. “He says you have been here for days.”

“He should worry, Hira-sama,” the Jade Champion replied, peering over his shoulder to look at her with a weary, bitter expression.

Hira was silent for a long time. It was strange to hear Sekawa defer to her in such a manner. Only a year ago, Asahina Hira had been one of the Jade Champion’s many apprentices. Her admiration of the man was immeasurable. His dedication to the cause of justice was unswerving, despite terrible personal losses in the name of the Dark Lord and the Bloodspeakers. His skill with magic was unmatched. His ability to manage the tangled web of Imperial law and politics was incredible. It was in Sekawa’s service that she had completed one of Rosoku’s impossible challenges and earned her place as Keeper of the Void, and without his guidance that feat would not have been possible. It was strange. He seemed smaller now, so much more tired than she remembered him.

Had he really changed so much, or did she just see him more clearly now?

“We live in an age of mortals, Hira,” Sekawa said. “Our fates are not determined by prophets or Thunders or reincarnated gods anymore. That age ended with Shinsei’s last scion. I am a man, of magic and spirits, Hira. It is a difficult adjustment.”

“Is that why you are here?” she asked.

Sekawa chuckled dryly. “Not entirely,” he said.

“Rosoku’s death was a tragedy, but what has truly changed?” Hira asked. “The original Shinsei saw himself as simply a guide, a teacher who helped heroes toward their destiny. He prepared the Thunders for their battle against Fu Leng, but they would have been heroes without him. The same holds for Rosoku. The man may be dead, but his wisdom lives on. His deeds live on. His goodness lives on, in all of those whom he touched.”

“Tell that to the gods,” Sekawa said.

“The Gods?” Hira replied. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t be foolish, Hira,” Sekawa retorted, rising to his feet. A scar marked the left side of his face, curling his lip into an eerie grin. “We are both shugenja. The spirits speak to us. Surely you have sensed it, as I have. Shinsei and his descendants were special. The gods favored them like none other. Now that Shinsei’s line is not more, the gods are watching us more carefully. Some believe we have already failed, and that it is only a matter of time before mankind destroys itself.”

“I have sensed … a distance,” Hira said carefully, “but it is not as vast as you suggest.”

“Then look upon this, Hira,” Sekawa said, “and see how great the distance truly is.”

The Jade Champion held out his hands. A ball of warm green fire appeared hovering in his palm, casting the cavern in a bizarre radiance. Nine katana rested on ivory stands, propped in a semi-circle against the rear wall of the cavern? When Hira’s eyes fell upon them she sensed the power that lay dormant within the steel. Powerful magic lay locked within those blades, there was no doubt about it. Each blade bore a symbol on his hilt. Another like the others was tucked beneath Sekawa’s obi. It bore the symbol of their clan – the Crane.

“Swords?” Hira asked, looking at Sekawa in confusion. “Where did these come from, Sekawa?”

“The Celestial Forge,” Sekawa replied. “The fortune of Steel, Tsi Xing Guo, made these.”

“Why?” she demanded. “How did such things come to be here?”

Sekawa smiled weakly. “They are the Fortune’s final gift to Rokugan,” he said. “Tsi Xing Guo crafted these ten blades so that the Heroes of the Empire could carve out their own futures. He said that he intends to explore the Realm of Lost Heroes in mourning for Shinsei’s bloodline. He will not return to the Celestial Heavens again, nor offer mortals any further aid. These are his final gifts to mankind. He wished me to distribute them to worthy samurai.”

Hira continued to stare at the swords in shock. The idea of a Fortune abandoning Rokugan was inconceivable, but she could not bring herself to doubt Sekawa’s words. “I am not certain why he picked me,” Sekawa said, answering her unspoken question. “Perhaps he felt he owed me.”

Hira only nodded, unwilling to dwell upon Sekawa’s tragic history. Years ago, a weaponsmith named Tsubeko was invited to craft a pair of jitte in Tsi Xing Guo’s forge. The weapons were meant to be wielded by the Jade Champion, but that destiny was denied when one of the Dark Lord’s demons murdered Tsubeko and stole the jitte. Sekawa was a highly influential person. Even clans that traditionally disliked the Crane Clan respected the Jade Champion. If the Fortune wished to pass his blades to another and be done with mankind, Sekawa would be an excellent choice.

“So who will you give the blades to?” she asked.

“Listen to what I’ve been saying, Hira!” he said, his voice nearly hysterical. “Tsi Xing Guo has abandoned Rokugan! How do I know if these blades are meant to bless worthy heroes or punish us for failing Shinsei? How can I pass on weapons that might destroy their wielders?”

“Do you believe Tsi Xing Huo would wish such a curse upon us?” she asked.

“Look upon the tenth sword, Hira,” Sekawa said in a low voice.

The tenth blade’s hilt bore a fearsome, demonic face. It was the symbol of Daigotsu, the Dark Lord.

“A blade for the Shadowlands?” Hira asked.

“I am the Jade Champion,” Sekawa said. “I am sworn to defend the Empire against Fu Leng’s minions, yet a god has asked me to give them a weapon forged in the Heavens. How can I allow myself to commit such a sin?”

Hira looked at Sekawa calmly. “Sekawa, all souls that live in this world are subject to another,’ she said. “The peasant serve the samurai. The samurai serve the Emperor. The emperor serves the gods. You are a holy man, Sekawa. If a Fortune has asked you to do this thing, how can you deny him?”

“How can I give the Dark Lord such a powerful weapon?” Sekawa snapped.

“There is more than one way to fight evil, Sekawa,” Hira replied. “You must have faith.”

Sekawa looked doubtful, but then his gaze fixed more firmly on the Keeper’s. The light of hope shone there, and Sekawa’s ruined mouth curled into a true smile. “Faith”, he said seeming to savor the taste of the word. “I hope that you are right, Hira.”

•

Weeks later…

Hida Daizu was worried.

There were few consistencies in Crab lands. The Kaiu Wall was eternal. The Hida were always large. Jade always turned back the darkness of the shadowlands Taint. The Yasuki caravans were always on time. Hida Daizu was not, by nature, a fretful man, but when something that seemed constant turned out not to be so, Daizu began to worry.

The supply caravan had been due to arrive at Razor’s Edge Dojo that afternoon. It was only a few hours late, nothing to cause a real stir, but Daizu had decided to set out to meet them nonetheless. There seemed to be no harm; his guard shift was over, Lord Kisada had no further duties for him, and if he hurried he could still return to the dojo in time for Tenshu’s nightly drinking games. No harm, no trouble, or so he thought.

The bestial shriek that rang on the evening air immediately dispelled all possibility that this trip would be uneventful. Daizu knew he could still turn back, find reinforcements, but what if the caravan was already in danger? He could not abandon his kinsmen to whatever lurked in the night. He urged his steed onward cautiously, reassured by the weigh of steel at his side and jade about his throat.

The first real sign of trouble was the mule. The animal stood at the side of the road, flanks shivering and slick with sweat, eyes wide with fear. A lantern hung crookedly from a post tied to its saddle, casting the road in a hazy light. Daizu climbed down from his horse and approached the beast slowly, holding out one hand to show he meant no harm. It bucked hysterically before he could take its reins and darted off the road, but not before he saw the Yasuki family mon on its saddle bags and the deep claw marks on its leg.

The lantern pole had fallen from the mule’s saddle, so the Crab plucked it up and searched the road ahead. The steaming corpses of men and pack mules lay upon the ground, scattered among ravaged wagons. The contents of the wagons were strewn about – food supplies, weapons, and some sort of curdled grey mush.

Daizu swore and reached for his weapon, but the creature leapt from the darkness too quickly. It landed on top of him, gnawing at his armor and scrabbling at his chest with long fingers. It was like a frenzied monkey woven from strands of silk rope, fingers and toes tipped in long claws. Its face was an obsidian mask, smiling madly at the Crab as it tried to bear him to the ground. The creature seemed surprised when Daizu staggered but did not fall. It was more surprised when Daizu drew Kettei. The celestial blade Lord Kisada had entrusted to him sliced the beast in half. It fell in pieces, screaming for ten seconds before death finally claimed it.

Daizu sneered in disgust. He looked down at his armor to see a trickle of lumpy grey sludge spill between the plates. His eyes widened when he realized the oni had reduced his jade to sludge with a mere touch. That was the grey mess he had seen – the creature had devoured the Yasuki jade. It was fortunate that he had slain such a beast so easily. A demon that could destroy jade with a touch could make their fight against the Shadowlands impossible. He was fortunate enough to have a magical blade, but how would the Hiruma scouts fight a demon that could remove their only protection against the Taint?

Then Daizu looked up and saw a dozen more obsidian masks watching him from the edge of the lantern light, staring fearfully at his sword. When they noticed his eyes upon them, they vanished screeching into the night, leaving Hida Daizu alone with the dead. Now Hida Daizu was very worried.

•

Mirumoto Ryosaki brought her blades up quickly, crossing them to catch her enemy’s strike. Her movements were graceful, yet her lip curled as sparks flew from the swords. She had not practiced enough with the new blade Satsu had given her – only a dozen hours of kata practice at best. She should have known better than to take an untested weapon into combat.

She redoubled her efforts, lunging forward and slashing out to either side with katana and wakizashi at once. Like wings of steel, the swords cut the air about her as rain poured down from the sky. Though they were seven to her one and fought with the mad frenzy of zealots, they stood only for a handful of seconds before their bodies lay in the mud in the village road.

It was a shame. It should not be like this. They were only peasants, simple men and women. She was a trained samurai. They were no match for her, even in her current state. There was nothing for it. They had made their decision.

One of her attackers screamed and dropped to his knees, clutching the bleeding stump of his arm. Her katana came down again, this time resting at the base of his throat. He looked up at her, defiant and fearful. The lightning cracked overhead, casting long shadows from the trees that surrounded them.

“Kill us all, it changes nothing,” the maimed man said. “He has already shown us the way. He has already freed us.”

“Where is Kokujin?” she asked calmly.

“You seek the prophet?” the maddened peasant replied. “There are many paths, girl. Each of us must find …”

He said no more. His head rolled free in the mud and Ryosaki returned her katana to its scabbard. She looked up at the branches of the surrounding forest with a sour expression. A dozen bodies hung from the branches, twisting in the wind. Ryosaki looked up at them sadly. They had once been samurai, men and women who had protected this village. Ryosaki never knew them. No one remained to mourn them. She cut the nearest one down and began to stack the bodies to be burned.

She heard hurrying footsteps behind her. Takige approached, his swords in his hands and slick with blood. “Ryosaki-sama are you all right?” he asked, looking at the wound on her shoulder. “I am fine,” she said simply.

“How does this happen, my lady?” he asked, staring at the slaughter that had decimated the village. “How does Kokujin turn ordinary men and women into killers.”

“It is probably best that we do not understand,” she replied. “Help me stack the bodies to be burned.”

Takige looked at her with horror. To touch dead flesh was no task for an honorable samurai. She scowled. “No one remains to bury them but us, Takige,” she said. “Is it not worth a bit of your honor to see that your fellow Dragon are not devoured by wolves?”

There was no answer. Ryosaki looked back at Takige. He lay sprawled in the mud, face frozen in a mask of horror. The man was dead. A hulking figure stood over the body, skin painted in patterns of shadow. His eyes gleamed with interest.

“You seek me daughter of Reju?” Kokujin asked in a mellow voice. “Then know that I seek you as well.”

•

Bayushi Paneki weighed the blade in one hand, looking deep into the steel. His dark eyes were analytical, devoid of emotion. Shosuro Yudoka hunched in his thick cloak. In the corner of the darkened shrine. His pale white mask was expressionless, but his eyes were sharp and alert. He watched his master carefully.

“A strange gift,” Paneki said. “The Scorpion remember another time when an Asahina gifted them with a sword.”

“You speak of the Bloodsword,” the ninja master replied. “You speak of Yashin, also called Ambition, the blade that Asahina Yajinden gave to Bayushi Gonasu centuries ago.”

“The blade that Gonasu was wise enough to set aside,” Paneki answered. “Of course, this is different. Yashin was forged by a madman, and this one was forged by a god.”

“A god who has abandoned his people,” Yudoka corrected. “You are right to be cautious, my lord. It may be just as dangerous. I cannot imagine what Sekawa was thinking in giving us such a gift. Did not the Asahina swear away from steel after Yajinden?”

“I find it odd as well, but our Jade Champion has always been a curious fellow,” Paneki said. “It cannot be denied that the sword had great power. We would be fools not to accept it, even if we do not intend to use it. At the very least, surely only we can be trusted to protect it.” The Master of Secrets looked at Yudoka intently. “I wish you to guard this blade, Yudoka.”

“Hai,” Yudoka said. “And the other blades Sekawa found? Shall I find out what became of them as well?”

“Of course,” Paneki said mildly. “If the Fortune of Steel’s intent is revenge, we must be ready.”

“Yes, my lord,” Yudoka replied. He reached out and took the sheathed sword in one hand. The weapon vanished into the darkened folds of the ninja’s cloak. “But I sense this blade is not the only reason you have summoned me.”

“The time for observation is over, Yudoka.” Paneki said. “The time has come for action.” The ninja watched his lord silently.

“Surely you know of what I speak,” Paneki pressed.

“Hai, my lord, but I am surprised to hear this command so soon,” Yudoka said. “I would prefer to take more time to test our enemy’s strengths, to determine the full extent of his abilities and the loyalties of those who follow him.”

“We have taken all the time we can dare,” Paneki said. “This man is no fool. As we watch him, he watches us, even if he does not seem to. The longer we wait, the more prepared he will be.”

“That is true,” Yudoka admitted.

“You still doubt,” Paneki said, drawing a look of surprise from the normally unreadable Yudoka. “I know you would never question me. You would never disobey me. But if you have doubts, I would allay them.”

“That is not necessary, my lord,” Yudoka replied.

“But it is,” Paneki answered. “You, of all Scorpion, have earned that right. We Scorpion exist in a precarious state. We are eternally the villains, those who lurk in shadow. We sacrifice our honor and our principles for the glory o the Empire. Again and again we prove that none can trust us – yet we survive. How is that possible, Yudoka?”

“Fear,” the ninja replied without hesitation. “The other clans know that it is better to endure our existence than to risk our wrath. Even if they defeated us, there would be no victory. What we know, what we can do – to destroy us would be like tearing a barbed arrow from a wound.”

“But only so long as they remain afraid,” Paneki replied. “Only so long as our vengeance is inevitable. Only so long as they see that we are willing to destroy the Emperor’s enemies without mercy or hesitation. We must remain infallible, Yudoka. So long as he exists, he proves our fallibility. Shoju relied upon him, and was betrayed. Our entire clan was exiled. Then he compounded his crime by returning from beyond the veil of death, violating the edict laid down by Toturi himself at the end of the War of Spirits. He views himself as a hero, Yudoka, but that does not absolve his crimes.”

“No,” Yudoka replied. “It does not. Yet he is a tenacious enemy, and I fear that even if we succeed we will gain many enemies.”

“And even in failure, there is some measure of success for the Scorpion,” Paneki said.

“This is true as well,” Yudoka agreed.

“Excellent,” Paneki said, a smile momentarily creasing his pale features. “Then let us waste no more time. Let us plan the death of Hida Kisada.”