[dragon] Weekly Fiction #69 (snicker)

[M S Colson]

THE FICTION IS BELOW, BUT FIRST A PLUG

Hey, here's an update on the Region 8 Kotei, being
held on May 3rd. Note that Heaven and Earth will not
be legal. If you'd like to prereg. you can call the
number below or visit the store. you must prepay to
prereg.
Contact phone: 734-427-2451
Cost: US$25 
Start Time: 12 Noon Registration starts an 11am
Place: 
Pandemonium Games
1858 Middlebelt Road
Garden City, MI 48135

Now I'm not gonna promise you the most prizes or a
pretty trophy but I will say that we will have THE
BEST run kotei that you attend this year. While we are
on the subject of prizes though, let me just list a
few of the things I will try to get, depending on
attendance level. First off we will once again prove
that there is such a thing as a free lunch. Prizes may
include several katana's, boxes of Fall and H&E, and a
Designer wins (signed or unsigned). We will also have
Story team member(s) and possibly dancing girls. 

------------------
this is a map of how to get there
http://www.cutestgirlintheworld.com/shadowedtower/detroit.html
---
here's a link to local hotels, the store is only a
couple miles from the Airport :
http://airports.worldsbestdeals.com/DTW/DTW_hotels.html
---
There will also be a small open cash tournament friday
night before the kotei at the same venue. Entrance fee
will be $10 with a 60/40 split going to first and
second. Space will be limited to 32 participants so
please email Ryan Carter, rcar123 at yahoo.com if you are
interested in playing. 
-------------------------------------
 Lifeless, Part One
By Rich Wulf

	She did not know how long she had been in this
strange place, or how she had come to be here. Endless
plains of dying grass surrounded her, blanketed in a
dense, roiling fog. There was no sun, no moon, only a
harsh half-light that cast everything in an ghastly
radiance. Dozens of other men and women wandered the
plains, eyes glazed with hopelessness. Some wore armor
that resembled her own, though most were washed out in
tones of gray. The colors, for those who were not yet
gray, struck a chord with her. They seemed important,
somehow. She could not recall why. Their faces were
gaunt, their eyes hollow. Each time she approached one
to ask who they were, how they had all come here, they
would quickly vanish into the fog. 
	She was alone.
	Though she could not remember who she was, loneliness
felt wrong to her. It seemed almost as if there were a
time, long ago, when she was alone. She could not call
upon the memory but it struck her as a thing better
left forgotten. It was better to be surrounded by
those you loved. There was no place for her here. 
	The most irritating part of this place was the
sameness of it all. As much as she wandered, there was
no change in her surroundings. This, too, felt
unnatural. It was in her heart to explore. If there
was no purpose in exploring, if all was the same, then
what else was there? A great sadness fell upon her.
After wandering the gray plains for many days, she
noticed that her once brilliant armor was beginning to
adopt the same gray, washed-out tones of the other
lost souls. She wondered what color it had once been.
	Noticing a pool of water nearby, she hurried to kneel
beside it. She was not thirsty, but was eager to see
something other than the unending wasteland. Her
reflection looked up from the water curiously, a
timeless face with pale skin and deep brown eyes. She
looked at herself for some time before she felt the
eyes of another upon her. She glanced up to find a
wandering soul sitting cross-legged on the other side
of the pool. It was a man, proud and broad-shouldered
with the elegant features of a noble. His hair was
cropped short in a style unfamiliar to her. He wore a
fine kimono of pure white silk.
	“Greetings,” he said, his deep voice resonating with
a strange accent. “You have come to enjoy the
refreshing waters of my oasis?”
	“I do not meant to intrude,” she said, bowing
politely. “I saw the pool and was overjoyed to see
something new.”
	The man smiled to himself, as if her words somehow
satisfied him. “I take no offense,” he said. “Feel
free to gaze into these waters as long as you like.
You may be surprised what you find.”
	She looked at him curiously. “You do not have the
same confused look as the other souls I have seen,”
she said. “You do not retreat from me as they do.”
	“That is only natural,” the man said with a sigh.
“They fear our kind. We remind them too much of what
they have lost, I fear.”
	“And what have they lost?” she asked.
	“Is it not obvious?” he asked with a laugh. “They
have lost their lives. This is the land of the dead.”
She dipped one hand into the pool, startled by the
water’s coolness. She looked at her open palm. The
skin was calloused from a lifetime of hard work and
combat. 
	“I was a warrior,” she said. “Though I took no joy in
killing.”
	The man nodded. “Already you begin to remember,” he
said. “The pool’s magic is strong. You were a valiant
warrior. Your courage was exceeded only by your mercy.
Even your greatest enemies, those who proved their
cruelty and ruthlessness time and again, were not
beyond redemption in your esteem.”
	Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Do I know you?” she
asked. “You seem familiar.”
	“We have met before,” the man admitted. “It was a
long time ago. You probably do not remember me, but I
remember you. Do you remember your name?”
	She looked down at her armor. The gray tarnish had
fallen away, now replaced with brilliant purple
enamel. “I am Shinjo,” she said, looking up at him
again. 
	“And do you know what that means?” he asked.
	“I am a goddess,” she replied, closing her eyes as
memory filled her. “I am a daughter of Onnotangu and
Amaterasu, the First Moon and the First Sun. I rode
forth to persuade my brother to halt his invasion of
heaven, to plead with him to turn his armies aside.”
	“Fu Leng did not accept your offer,” the man said
sadly.
	“He murdered me,” Shinjo said a tear falling from the
corner of one eye. One hand rose, balling into a fist
over her heart. “I came to him in love, and he smiled
as he stabbed me in the chest.”
	“You were too trusting, Shinjo,” the man said. “That
has always been your greatest strength, and your
greatest weakness.”
	She wiped the tears away with the back of one hand,
then looked about urgently. Her gaze was sharp now,
unclouded by her lack of identity. “Where am I now?”
she asked. “I must return to Tengoku so that I can
rejoin the fight against my brother.”
	“You are far from Tengoku now,” the man said. “This
is Meido. The Gray Realm. The Realm of Death. The
Realm of Waiting. There is no escape from this place
for those who belong here. The war is no longer your
concern.”
	“No longer my concern?” Shinjo snapped, glaring at
the stranger. “Fu Leng seeks to corrupt the Heavens,
to slaughter all those who were once mortal and are
now divine.”
	“A terrible crisis, to be sure,” the man agreed.
“There are few gods in Rokugan that were not once
mortal. Once your brother finishes with those who were
once mortal, he will turn on those who aided them. Fu
Leng will not stop until the Heavens lie empty.”
	Shinjo sighed. “He has changed so much. I feel as if
I no longer know him. You speak as if you are familiar
with him.”
	The man nodded. “I have dealt with him in the past. I
understand something of why he acts as he does. When
Fu Leng fell to Jigoku, his thoughts of revenge were
the only thing that allowed him to deal with the
horrors he encountered there. Now, revenge is all that
he has left. He would go to any end to achieve that
goal. Turning him from his current course would be…
difficult.”
	“It is difficult for me to believe my brother would
do such a thing,” Shinjo whispered.
	“Perhaps that is why you are dead now,” the man said.
	“Do not mock me,” Shinjo said in a low voice.
	“Have I said anything that is untrue?” the man asked,
raising one eyebrow. He looked at her impassively. She
noticed for the first time that his eyes were pure
black, with no white whatsoever.
	“No,” Shinjo admitted. “Even so it galls me that I am
in such a state. In the mortal realm my brothers and I
could be killed, but in the Heavens? I was immortal.
How could even Fu Leng accomplish such a thing?”
	“No power is absolute,” the man replied. “The spear
Fu Leng carries was created by Emma-O to defend this
realm. That weapon is the physical manifestation of
the Fortune of Death’s power. All who are slain by it
are bound here in Meido for all eternity.”
	“Bah,” Shinjo replied, brow furrowing in thought. “Fu
Leng was also bound in Meido, yet he escaped.”
	“Fu Leng was never killed by the spear,” the man
answered. “Emma-O feared Fu Leng too much to attack
him directly. As soon as the Dark Kami arrived here,
the Fortune of Death bound his spirit in powerful
magics and sealed him away while he was still
disoriented. It was only when Fu Leng’s servant,
Daigotsu, tricked Emma-O that the Fortune was forced
to release your brother. That was when Fu Leng saw the
potential within the spear, and took it for his own.”
	“You know a great deal about all of this,” Shinjo
said, looking at the man warily. “You said that you
had dealings with my brother in the past. My memory
has returned, yet I do not know your face. Who are
you?”
	“A friend,” the man said. “I have no true name.”
	“Why do you retain your memory when everyone else
only wanders?” she asked.
	“I am quite familiar with the effects of realms such
as these,” he said. “I prepared myself before I
ventured here.”
	She continued to watch him in suspicion. “Emma-O is a
vigilant guardian,” she said. “How did you escape his
notice?”
	“Emma-O is not the Fortune he once was,” the man
said. “His failure to contain Fu Leng has made him
panicked, distracted, prone to mistakes. My allies and
I were able to enter this realm unnoticed, for a
time.”
	“You said you were a friend,” she pressed, a slow
suspicion dawning on her. “That is why you dare the
Fortune of Death’s wrath? Friendship?”
	“More than that,” the man said. “I owe your people a
favor. I intend to repay that favor today.”
	“By helping me regain my memory?” Shinjo asked. “A
small consolation, now that I know I shall be trapped
here forever. I think I preferred ignorance.”
	“Your memory is only part of the gift I offer,” the
man replied. “I intend to help you regain your
freedom. If you truly do not wish my aid, then just
continue as you were. The magic of the pool will fade
soon and you will return to your fugue state.”
	Shinjo dipped her hand into the water, watching the
liquid drip from the tips of her long fingers. “You
told me that there was no escape,” she said. 
	“I said that there is no escape for those who belong
here,” he corrected. “Here, as in all things, one who
pays careful attention to the rules can always find a
way to circumvent them without breaking them.”
	“So what must I do?” she asked.
	“Follow me,” he said, rising and smoothing his long
robes over his chest. She noticed that he was much
taller than he had seemed when sitting. He turned and
strode away across the gray fields, pausing when he
realized Shinjo had not yet risen. He looked back at
her placidly for a long moment.
“I told you that trust has always been your greatest
strength, and your greatest weakness,” the man said.
“You need to begin recognizing the difference.” He
continued walking again. The message was clear.
Whether she chose to take this opportunity or sit by
the pool forever was ultimately her choice.
	Shinjo quickly stood and followed the stranger,
glancing about as she did so for any sign of ambush or
attack. In a vague way, she hoped for an attack. It
would be easier to deal with than this. As much as she
despised war, she excelled at combat. Problems seemed
so much simpler when they could be solved with a
sword. She almost wished that her brother, Bayushi,
were here. He could be untrustworthy at times, but he
was an excellent judge of character. Bayushi would
have known whether or not to follow the white-robed
stranger. Then again, Bayush would never have trusted
Fu Leng and fallen into this situation. 
	The two walked in silence over the gray plains. The
other wandering souls avoided them, though some paused
to look curiously at her companion before they
vanished into the fog. The stranger paid them no mind,
his attention solely on the path ahead.
	“You mentioned allies,” Shinjo said as they walked.
“You did not come here alone.”
	“No,” the man said with a quick smile. “I came here
with my brothers. They are attending to the Fortune of
Death, making certain that he does not know what we
plan.”
	“I see,” Shinjo said. “I hope that you mean him no
harm. Emma-O is an important deity, worthy of
respect.”
	The man did not reply immediately. “My brothers
intend to show him all the respect that he is due,” he
said evasively. “Now, Shinjo, look upon your destiny.”
He gestured at the valley ahead.
	The fog parted and Shinjo saw an enormous stone
portal, carved in the shape of a spiraling serpent
devouring its own tail. At times, the portal shimmered
with a holy white radiance. Sometimes, it leaked a
sickly black light. Most of the time it was empty and
dormant. 
Shinjo looked sharply at the stranger. “That portal
resembles Oblivion’s Gate,” she said, “the portal
through which the Lying Darkness tried to destroy the
Empire.”
	“The resemblance is no coincidence,” the man said.
“Just as Oblivion’s Gate brought new life to the dead,
so will this portal bring new life to you. However,
you must be prepared to pay the price for your
freedom.”
	“What price is that?” Shinjo asked.
	“My sister?” called a voice from the fog. “Is that
you?”
	Shinjo looked up suddenly, eyes wide. She recognized
the source of the voice, though she could not bring
herself to believe it. A short, stocky man stepped
forward from the mists, his face calm and serene. Long
white hair hung limply around a bald scalp. He bowed
deeply. At her side, the white-robed stranger smiled.
	“Ryoshun!” Shinjo exclaimed, rushing forward to
embrace her brother. He chuckled and clumsily hugged
her in return.
	“Now, now, Shinjo-chan,” Ryoshun said, his voice
thick as joyful tears streamed down his cheeks. “We do
not have much time before Emma-O finds us.”
	“I thought that you had perished during the Battle of
Oblivion’s Gate,” she said, looking into his eyes in
wonder. “Yet when I returned to Tengoku you were not
there.”
	“My place is here,” Ryoshun replied, a note of regret
in his voice. “I am the steward of lost souls. When
the Fortune of Death deems their time in Meido
complete, I send them on to their destiny. Why did you
not come to me sooner, Shinjo-chan? You do not belong
here.”
	Shinjo looked at Ryoshun curiously. “I am dead, my
brother,” she said. “Fu Leng slew me.”
	Ryoshun nodded. “Yes, but Meido is more than simply a
realm of the dead,” he said. “Meido is a realm for
those burdened by sins and misdeeds. You are a
goddess, a hero. You do not deserve this punishment.”
	“Ryoshun, you are too innocent,” the white-robed man
chuckled. “Of course, that is why you are perfectly
suited to aid the souls of the forgotten.” He stroked
his chin with one hand. Shinjo noticed that his
fingers and wrist were decorated in many golden rings
and bracelets. “Emma-O has always despised the Kami,
for while they live in paradise and are honored by
Rokugan, he must serve as warden over countless broken
souls. Only Ryoshun has ever made the effort to aid
him. Emma-O took great relish in Fu Leng’s
imprisonment, and was humiliated when the Dark Kami
escaped. Now it seems one Kami’s soul is as good as
another. He would have kept you here forever, Shinjo,
to slake his petty vengeance.”
	“But no longer,” Shinjo said. “I will step through
the portal, return to Heaven, and carry the fight to
Fu Leng!”
	“No,” the man in white said. “As I said, the Heavens
is beyond you now. There is only one path that leads a
dead soul from Meido, and that leads to an altogether
different destiny.”
	Shinjo looked to Ryoshun. Her brother nodded sadly.
	“He speaks truth,” Ryoshun said. “You are too closely
bound to this realm. The only way for you to leave now
is the way the others leave, when they are ready.” He
looked back at the gates, then back at his sister.
“Pass through this gate, and you will be reincarnated
according to your kharma.”
	Shinjo blinked. “I would become mortal?”
	Ryoshun nodded. “Most likely. You would be born again
to human parents with no memory of your former life.
In time, you may recognize some measure what you were
and become such a legend that your life as Shinjo will
pale in comparison.”
“Or, perhaps, you might fail and fade into obscurity,”
the man in white said. “Such is the risk of being
mortal.”
	“Then I will take that risk,” Shinjo said, looking up
at the portal. “Better than wandering here forever.”
	“I am glad you made the right decision,” the man in
white said, dark eyes gleaming. “You will not regret
your choice.”
	“I had best not,” she said, looking back at him
fiercely. “You think that I do not recognize you, but
I know who you are now. You have proven yourself
reliable, but if I find you and your kin have aided me
out of some misbegotten design to harm the Unicorn, I
will find you. I will defeat you as I did before, even
if I am mortal.”
	The man smiled. “Make no mistake, Shinjo, I intend to
benefit from this arrangement more than you do, but I
have not lied to you. I swear to you that my brethren
and I will not harm the Unicorn Clan. In that, we are
of one mind.”
	Shinjo looked at the man for a long moment, gauging
his sincerity. With a final satisfied nod she turned,
kissed her brother on the cheek, and stepped through
the glimmering portal.
	And then she was gone.

•

	Ryoshun and the white-robed stranger remained where
they were for a long time, watching the shimmering
portal of the dead.
	“And what will you do now, stranger?” Ryoshun asked,
looking up at the man curiously. He was very tall now,
almost twice Ryoshun’s height. “You and your allies
should flee before Emma-O realizes what you have
done.”
	The man smiled, revealing fine, white teeth. “I do
not fear the Fortune of Death,” he said, his voice
growing deeper and more resonant as he spoke. “Even
now my nine brothers invade his palace, taking it for
our own.”
	Ryoshun’s eyes widened. “You have attacked a
Fortune?”
	“I have not, but my brothers have,” the man said. He
studied the back of his hand, watched as the skin
faded to be replaced with a skeletal form. “By now
Emma-O’s palace has been conquered, his guards
replaced with our own.”
	Ryoshun’s looked up at the man, now fully revealed in
his true form. He was a tall, skeletal figure garbed
in kingly robes and fine jewelry. Ryoshun’s immortal
soul was filled with horror as he realized he stood
before one of the Shi-Tien Yen-Wang, a Lord of Death.
The gaijin death gods had ruled the Moto for three
thousand years before their defeat at Shinjo’s hands. 
Now they had returned.
	Now Shinjo, who defeated them in the past, was gone.
	“I will not stand for this,” Ryoshun said in a quiet
but steady voice.
	“Stand for what?” the Lord of Death replied mildly.
He looked down at Ryoshun, bony face unreadable. “You
misunderstand me, Ryoshun. The Shi-Tien Yen-Wang are a
force for order. In days of old, we judged the dead
much as Emma-O did, enforcing that order upon all
those who would not bow before us. Unlike Emma-O, we
never let a soul escape.”
	“But you helped Shinjo escape!” Ryoshun shouted.
	“And Emma-O should have stopped us,” the Lord of
Death replied, looking down at Ryoshun with a steady,
immovable gaze. “Your Fortune of Death is incompetent.
We have done your Celestial Order a favor in disposing
of him. When the war in Tengoku is done the other
Fortunes will look upon us and weigh our actions. We
saved Okura, Guardian of the Gates. We aided Jade,
protector of mortals. We helped Shinjo move on to the
next stage of her existence. And now we impose our
will upon Meido, restoring order to the land of the
dead.”
	“You cannot simply conquer a Spirit Realm,” Ryoshun
said. “The Fortunes will not stand for this any more
than they will stand for Fu Leng’s invasion of
Tengoku.”
	The Lord of Death sighed. “Ryoshun, you overestimate
your position. The forces of Heaven care nothing for
Meido, so long as it is orderly. Emma-O has proven
himself unable to maintain that order. It was he who
allowed a mortal to trick him into releasing Fu Leng,
while we have been staunch allies of Heaven from the
beginning of this war. If we ask for Meido in return
for our aid, do you think that we will be denied? Do
you truly believe that the powers of Tengoku will not
find such an arrangement the most beneficial for all
involved? They will not leap upon such a chance to
punish Emma-O and reward the Shi-Tien Yen-Wang in one
fell swoop. You, of all deities, should know how easy
it is for your brethren to overlook the dead. Do you
truly believe the Sun and Moon care if Meido is ruled
by one death god or ten?”
	Ryoshun frowned severely. He bowed his head, limp
hair, hanging over his face. “No,” he said. “I do not
believe any of that will matter to them.”
	“I would prefer not to have you as an enemy,
Ryoshun,” the Lord of Death said. “Will you serve us?”
	Ryoshun looked up, locking gazes with the Lord of
Death. “I will not help you fight Emma-O,” he said,
“but for helping my sister, I will not stand against
you either.”
	“Very well, then,” the Lord of Death said, his jaw
clattering in satisfaction. “It is an honor to have
met you, Ryoshun. If there is anything we can do to
make your duties here more comfortable, do not
hesitate to let us know. Now I must leave and help my
brethren secure our new palace. Arigato.”
	With that, the skeletal god vanished from sight,
leaving Ryoshun alone beside the shimmering portal. 
	“I hope you find your way, Shinjo-chan,” Ryoshun
said, looking back at the shimmering portal. “I pray
that you are as strong in the next life as you were in
the last. In a world such as this, we will need your
strength.”

TO BE CONTINUED











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