Guardian, Saviors of Kamigawa

CHAPTER 1

Toshi Umezawa stood facing the thundering waters of Kamitaki Falls. It was one of the most magnificent sights in all the world, where the mighty Yumegawa River plunged over five hundred feet to the lake below. It was a place of scintillating beauty and raw elemental force that drew pilgrims, seekers, and students alike to its mysteries.

Toshi was resting on the rail at the edge of a city-sized platform that served as the foundation for Minamo Academy’s main building. The massive hall was a grand and opulent structure of blue steel and glass spires that rested on a magical column of water hundreds of feet above the surface of the lake.

Overhead, the soratami capital Oboro peeked through the clouds. The city was not clearly visible from where Toshi stood, but he had been there once before so he knew that it was even more lavish and visually stunning than the academy grounds. Where Minamo was designed to mimic natural forms found in the rocks and water, Oboro was all sharp, clean edges and proud, almost arrogant towers that stood draped with gleaming, crystalline wire that glistened in the moonlight.

Toshi glanced up at Oboro one last time and then spit on the ground. He hated this place. Despite all the natural beauty and architectural splendor (and in some ways, because of it), Toshi resented the snobbery and elitism that dripped from both Oboro and Minamo like spray from the river.

Toshi’s vivid green eyes darted across the entrance to the academy, and he shook his long black hair from his face. When he left the academy, it had been under an all-out attack, but now it was as still and as quiet as a tomb. The somber mood around the academy clung to the place like thick fog. The school was supposed to be a place of learning and enlightenment, but it felt like one of the daimyo’s prisons after a plague wiped out all the inmates: empty, foreboding, and dead. There was bad magic here-raw emotions and violent death permeated the air like incense.

Still, if there were no one left alive inside the school, his job would be significantly easier. Toshi didn’t let his hopes rise too high; nothing he had done lately had been easy or gone according to plan. He placed one foot on the bottom step of the Minamo entrance and waited. When nothing happened, he climbed another step. Nothing.

On the fifth step, two lean, muscular people sprang from inside the open doors, tumbling and spinning as they came. The male was bald and dressed in bleached skins, the female in tight braids and a red wool wrap that covered her from breastbone to mid-thigh. Both were armed with swords and the man carried a staff. Each warrior wore a black phylactery strapped to their head and bore a circular symbol with a jagged line through it-the man carried the standard on the end of his staff with a series of metal rings looped through it and the woman wore the symbol as a necklace.

Though their leaps carried them twenty feet into the air, they both landed soundlessly a few paces from Toshi. He glanced at one, then the other, and shrugged.

“Well?” he said. “You either recognize me or you don’t. If you do, take me to see the ogre now. If not, draw your swords.”

Toshi smiled. The two warriors did not. They stared at him, vacant as sleepwalkers. They did not react to his words, his smile, or even his presence on the grounds.

The ochimusha sighed. He waved a hand in front of the glassy-eyed woman, and then snapped his fingers in front of the man.

“Hi-de-tsu-gu,” he said slowly. “Your boss. My partner. You helped him wreck this place awhile ago. Is he still here?”

The sound of the ogre’s name made the man flinch, but the woman remained expressionless. Toshi paused, winked at her, and then stepped up into the man’s face.

“Hidetsugu,” he said again, enjoying the ripple of fear that crossed those otherwise inscrutable features. He turned back to the woman and gestured at the man. “I can keep this up all day, you know.” He turned back to the man. “Hidetsugu.”

The man snarled. The woman’s blade appeared in her hand and Toshi yelped. Before he could backpedal, the man’s staff thumped solidly into Toshi’s back and he clamped on to the ochimusha’s sword arm.

Gingerly, with the tip of the woman’s blade inches from his nose, Toshi pushed the sword aside with one finger. He slid his left wrist free of his sleeve and showed them the triangle-shaped symbol there.

“Hyozan,” he said. “This symbol is the kanji for iceberg. Your master has a similar mark on his chest. It signifies membership, brotherhood. We’re members of the same group. You two should recognize me, we’ve met before.”

Toshi took a moment to study his fingernails. Casually, he added, “And if you don’t say something useful soon, we’re going to have to fight.” He put his hands on his hips. “And Hidetsugu won’t like that. He’ll probably bite your heads off just for making me explain this much. If you’re lucky.” He smiled a wicked smile and cocked his head. “Think about it. You know I’m not exaggerating.”

The man’s grip on his shoulder softened. The woman lowered her sword.

“Good,” Toshi said. “Now, you don’t have to announce me and you don’t have to escort me. Just let me pass and I’ll find him myself.”

The woman sheathed her sword. She stared at Toshi through her dead eyes, then pointed up the stairs into the academy interior. With a soft grunt, she sprang high into the air and landed on the lintel above the main doorway. Toshi heard feet scuffling the ground behind him, and then the man joined his fellow sentry on top of the door.

Toshi waved pleasantly as he strode up the staircase. These two were yamabushi, feared and powerful warrior-priests from the mountains. They were notoriously reclusive and highly trained in the art of killing, especially effective against opponents from the spirit world. Toshi almost chuckled. Getting past them was the easy part.

His gallows-humor mirth dissolved when he approached the door, as Toshi saw dried bloodstains and sword slashes carved deep into the marble stairs. He paused for a moment to wonder what would have happened had circumstances been different, and if he hadn’t shown the yamabushi his hyozan mark. Such thoughts were extremely unpleasant and unhelpful as he prepared to face Hidetsugu once again, so he shoved them to the back of his mind. Outwardly confident, Toshi slipped inside the building.

Inside, the academy was just as still and lifeless as the outside. Toshi could see high water marks on some of the walls as if a flash flood had swept through the halls, but there were no people, no bodies, and no signs of a struggle. He knew what Hidetsugu was capable of and he had seen the aftermath of the o-bakemono’s rage many times, but the academy was not at all like Toshi expected.

That made him nervous. Hidetsugu was at his most dangerous when he was deliberate, and the conspicuous lack of trophy corpses meant he was being especially precise. If there weren’t heads decorating the academy gates, Hidetsugu must have found another use for them. Toshi shuddered at the thought.

The layout of the school was unfamiliar, but Toshi knew that Hidetsugu would be in the largest centrally located chamber. He followed the entrance hallway into the center of the building and then climbed a set of stairs to a mezzanine-style reception area. Opposite the stairs on this level, he saw two yamabushi standing guard outside a wide doorway.

The yamabushi barely noticed him as he approached. After pausing to make sure they did not intend to prevent him from passing, Toshi swept into the great hall. Without looking for Hidetsugu, Toshi bowed deeply and said, “Greetings, oath-brother,” as jauntily as he could.

Toshi stood staring at the floor for a few moments. He heard a deep, stentorian growl and the clatter of falling stones. The ochimusha waited until the first drop of sweat fell from his forehead to the stone floor, and then he raised his head.

Hidetsugu the ogre sat on a mound of white, polished bones piled higher than Toshi’s chest. The massive figure was smiling slightly as he stared down at Toshi, his eyes glowing dull red like embers in a blacksmith’s forge.

“Hello, old friend.” Hidetsugu’s grin widened and he cocked his broad flat head in a disturbing parody of Toshi’s own quizzical expression. Each of his gnarled, twisted teeth was as big as Toshi’s hand.

Toshi felt a familiar chill. An ogre’s smile was never something to be taken lightly. A cunning, learned, and patient ogre was still an ogre, and while Hidetsugu was always scrupulous in observing the terms of their shared hyozan oath, he also seemed amused by the dread vow they had sworn.

Toshi kept his tone respectful but looked the ogre unflinchingly in the eye. “We were supposed to meet here and take down the school together, oath-brother,” he said. “Remember?” Toshi opened his arms, indicating the vast empty space around them. “You didn’t wait, so now I’m not sure if the plan is still intact.” He smiled. “Or if I’m even welcome. I know how much you hate guests.”

The o-bakemono stood, sending a cascade of bones rattling down the mound. “Nonsense, Toshi. You are always welcome to visit me.” Hidetsugu tilted his head back and drew a long stream of air into his nostrils.

The uneasiness in Toshi’s stomach hardened into a cold, hard ball. It was said that o-bakemono can smell powerful magic, and Toshi knew it was true. If Hidetsugu guessed Toshi’s latest secret, this little errand would be over before it began. Everything hinged on the next few moments, in a contest between Hidetsugu’s instinct and Toshi’s preparations to deflect that instinct.

Hidetsugu finished his breath and smiled down at Toshi once more. “You stink of your myojin and the dead of winter,” he said.

Relief swept through Toshi and he almost smiled. Calmly, he said, “Why shouldn’t I? I am an acolyte of Night’s Reach. In her name I took on the blessing of lethal cold, of frigid darkness.”

The ogre nodded. “And the longer you contain that cold, the more it consumes you. Like your newfound religion. I wonder if you realize how much they are taking from you, old friend.”

“I’m getting the best of the bargain so far.” Toshi grinned wickedly, hoping to disarm Hidetsugu’s suspicion with an open display of greed and ego. The ogre would expect that of Toshi.

But Hidetsugu’s expression grew sharp. The bulging muscles in his arms and legs twitched, launching the ogre high into the air over the throne of bones. Toshi held very still as Hidetsugu landed heavily beside him, sending a web of cracks across the thick stone floor.

Toshi waited as the ogre inspected him. When Hidetsugu had stalked a complete circle around him, Toshi said, “If you’re done appraising me, oath-brother, I’d like to discuss business. This reckoning,” he gestured at the academy around them, “seems complete. Our next step should be-”

“Our work here,” Hidetsugu interrupted, “is far from complete. The wizards and the soratami crossed us, the hyozan reckoners. Their suffering has only begun.” The ogre’s great nostrils flared as he snorted angrily. “We are sworn to it.”

Hidetsugu was wearing a mantle of black silk across his shoulders, so Toshi could clearly see the hyozan mark branded into the ogre’s chest. In the shadows behind the mound of bone, Toshi also saw more yamabushi lurking in the darkness, edging closer to their master and his guest.

“Well, I hate to argue,” Toshi said. “But there’s no one left to reckon with, is there?” He pointed to the white mound. “I mean, their suffering is over, right? What’s left to accomplish?”

Hidetsugu smiled, his tongue lolling grotesquely across his lips. Toshi swallowed hard.

“No, my friend,” the ogre said. “Their lives have ended and their bones have been picked clean, but their souls are still being savored and digested. According to the terms of our oath, which you created, the reckoning is not complete until tenfold vengeance has been taken.”

He crouched, bringing his wild eyes and carrion breath directly into Toshi’s face. “The ones who ordered our brother Kobo’s death are here. My apprentice’s reckoning is already upon the wizards and the moonfolk, but it will not end until it reaches their patron kami. I swore I would feed every one of them, everything they owned, and everything they loved to the All-Consuming Oni of Chaos. For him, this,” he pointed to the mound, “is barely a mouthful.”

Toshi felt his eyes go glassy. “I see.” He smiled weakly and, fearing the answer, asked, “And where is your oni now?”

Hidetsugu rose. Laughing, he spread his arms. “Here. Everywhere. He gorges himself on all Minamo has to offer. The wizards had amassed a remarkable collection of powerful artifacts and spells. When I last saw my god, he was devouring the central library one scroll at a time.”

Toshi swore inwardly. If the oni was consuming inanimate objects of great power, it was unlikely to overlook Daimyo Konda’s prize, which Toshi had left in the depths of the academy’s maze of offices and passageways, hundreds of feet below where he now stood.

Hidetsugu’s manic mirth subsided. He strode past Toshi toward his makeshift throne. “And you, ochimusha?” he called over his shoulder. “If you have not come to honor our oath to Kobo, why have you come?”

Toshi abandoned the truth-it had never served him that well anyway. He had hoped that Hidetsugu and his demonic spirit would be too caught up in the ongoing carnage to care about the disk. If they didn’t know what it was, or how powerful, they might have let him have it for the asking … after all, he was the one who brought it here.

He swore again. Now he would have to find a way to convince the o-bakemono to relinquish the prize instead of feeding it to his oni. Toshi didn’t relish the task. He was a newcomer to the idea of spirit worship, but Hidetsugu had been a true believer for a long time. If his oni had any interest in the disk, the ogre would never let it leave here.

“I have come,” Toshi said, “On behalf of the Myojin of Night’s Reach. I am her acolyte and her interests are mine. Currently, she wishes to protect the Takenuma Swamp. Now that Konda’s tower has fallen and the daimyo himself has gone missing, she sees a chance to confront her enemies and expand her influence.”

Hidetsugu cocked his head again. “And this affects me how?”

“Look,” Toshi said, exasperation overwhelming fear, “you’ve managed to combine our oath with spirit worship. Why can’t I?”

The ogre chuckled. “Oni and myojin are both spirits in the same way butterflies and hornets are both insects. You should never confuse the two while picnicking.”

“Point taken. But you’re not listening to me. What if I say I’ll help you finish here then you come with me to the swamp. You can even bring your team of mind-raped yamabushi killers. Slaughtering things in the bog will seem like a vacation from slaughtering things on the water or in the air.

“Look around, oath-brother. The wizards are all dead or gone, and your oni is eating whatever they left behind. Kobo’s reckoning will continue. The next step was always going to be the soratami, correct? Well, the soratami are in the swamp, and if we kill them there, we’ll be honoring the oath and my myojin.”

Hidetsugu’s smile evaporated. His eyes flared. His voice was low and husky. “The soratami are next. And we don’t need to travel to kill them, my friend. They are close by.” The ogre glanced upward and his yamabushi let out a hollow, mournful moan.

Toshi smelled an opening. “I’ve heard that the soratami only left a small force to defend their city. Most of them are in the swamps, trying to muscle in.”

“Most are in the forest of Jukai,” Hidetsugu corrected. “But the hyozan will find them and deal with them all, in time.”

“So why haven’t you?” Toshi said. “Oboro is protected by a token force, and surely the taste of moonfolk flesh is more exotic to an oni than old books or human meat. Don’t tell me a great and powerful o-bakemono and a half-dozen yamabushi are stymied by some skinny aristos with swords.”

The ogre grinned again, raising a cold sweat on Toshi’s neck. He had seen Hidetsugu rampant in battle, swinging a spiked club in one hand and a dead foe in the other as he roared with laughter and spat sparks. Compared to his current expression, that wild mask of malevolence and bloodlust seemed like the warmth in a doting mother’s eyes.

“I won’t tell you that, Toshi,” Hidetsugu said. “But I will tell you that I have visited Oboro. Recently, in fact. Things there are currently quite to my liking. Care to see?”

“No,” Toshi said quickly. “I was just-”

But Hidetsugu scooped him up and tucked Toshi under his arm like a log for the fire. The ogre raised his other hand and snapped his fingers.

“Take us to Oboro,” he boomed. “I want Toshi to see how fares the city in the clouds.”

Toshi was unable to protest with his lungs compressed in Hidetsugu’s grip. Five yamabushi emerged from the darkness, including the two that had greeted Toshi at the gate. They linked hands and formed a circle around their master and his burden, and then the warrior-priests began to chant.

A series of circular platforms made of dull amber light formed between the floor and the highest exterior window. Toshi craned his eyes to follow the series of steps as it extended out the window and up into the evening sky.

The female yamabushi from the front gate bounded onto the first platform. She hopped like nimble spider from step to step, pausing after each landing to cushion the impact and gather her strength for the next jump. As soon as she cleared the window, another yamabushi started from the bottom.

When he went outside, Hidetsugu leaped. Toshi tried to yelp as the world twisted around him, but his lungs were still too shallow. The ogre’s grip tightened as he hit the first platform. Toshi gritted his teeth and concentrated on not being crushed.

Outside, the sky had cleared and the soratami city Oboro glowed gold in the setting sun. Through tear-clouded eyes, Toshi could see the amber platforms of light reaching up to the edge of the city itself. The first yamabushi was almost there; Toshi and Hidetsugu would soon catch up.

Toshi closed his eyes and said a quick prayer to his myojin. O Night, he thought. I am still your faithful servant, and true. But it may be awhile before I can complete the task you’ve set for me.

After a moment, he mentally added, You too, Michiko.

Helpless in the grip of his former oath-brother, Toshi wondered what he would find at the top of this peculiar staircase.