Shiba Maemuki expected the view from the crest of the hill to be breathtaking, and it certainly was, but not in the way he had hoped. To the south lay the fertile yet unoccupied Dragon Heart Plain, idyllic in the late afternoon sunlight drifting from the autumn sky above; it was eerie, as though someone or something might be watching him, yet for all the tales he had learnt as a child about the former Snake Clan territory Maemuki could not help seeing the rolling grassland as beautiful. However, it was the rural village to the north of his position that made the samurai gasp in shock, forgetting his on completely. Smoke had begun to billow from the burning rooftops of several peasant hovels. On other days the gentle breeze that funnelled lazily through the valley between the Dragon mountains in the west and the Phoenix provinces in the east would have been refreshing, Maemuki was certain of it. Unfortunately, today all it managed to do was bring ill tidings as it spread diluted cinders and ash in his direction.
He inhaled the air slowly, smelling it as it seeped through his nostrils. This usually served to calm him down in times of stress, but the air was not clean enough for his liking.
"Fear! Screams! Fear!"
Maemuki closed his eyes and bowed his head in reverence as the essence of an air kami swept over him, enveloping him in fresh, pure air. Something wasn't right, though. Why did the kami feel tense? Where generally the spirits of air were curious whilst uncomprehending of the lives of mortal Rokugani, akin to a novice courtier who has stumbled on a secret love letter in Toshi Ranbo, this kami was apprehensive.
"Fear! Cries!" it intoned frantically in a high pitch.
This is clearly not shaping up to be a usual sort of day, Maemuki considered, eyes still closed. He had never successfully communed with the kami of the other elements as they seemed to take no interest in him, but the kami present in the air always flocked to him when he was nearby. I need to calm it down and find out what is happening in that village.
The young Shiba samurai raised his head to the sky, eyes still closed. "I hear you," he whispered in the sacred language of the kami, "I listen to your words. Whose cries concern you, spirit? Who is afraid?" At least he was secure in the knowledge that air kami did not experience fear themselves.
"The children."
The response was quieter this time, matching Maemuki's whisper, but there was a serious tone to it too, or at least, he thought it was; he had never heard an air kami be truly serious before. But he now perfectly understood why it wasn't simply indifferent to the village burning down. The most important lesson of the air kami that Maemuki had stumbled upon when he met his first air kami at the age of three years rang true: there is nothing more pleasing to the kami of air than the laughter of children. Conversely, the sound they despise most is that of a child wailing in sadness or fear; Maemuki had not learnt the latter fact until his elder brother Wataru died in a border skirmish with the Lion Clan, shortly after Maemuki turned eleven. The kami of air would not answer his call for weeks on end after that event, and the young Shiba was almost declared truly worthless as a shugenja by his Isawa sensei at the temple.
"The children," the kami repeated impatiently, its tone rising as a sudden gust.
Maemuki allowed himself to be nudged by the wind, then nodded. "Yes, spirit. I implore you to assist me in ending this fear." He still had no idea what was happening in the small village ahead, nor who had set the roofs ablaze. More importantly, as a shugenja newly come of age, and only an inconsequential Shiba Illusionist at that, Maemuki had no idea if he would be capable of saving the peasants and their children. Regardless, there was no time to waste doubting his competence. With one hand resting on the tsuka of Wataru's katana, and the other tightening its sweaty hold on the straps of the furoshiki bag slung over his shoulder, Shiba Maemuki headed toward the village. He built up the momentum from travelling downhill, and by the time he had reached its bottom he was running with purpose.
He could hear them now, the shrieks of dying and frightened peasants amongst the growling flames and harsh shouting of the raiders. He could also hear his own heart thumping through his veins as he approached the settlement, slowing to a halt behind a storehouse. The autumn breeze was not achieving anything more than wafting the smoke into the surrounding air, so a dusty layer of smog enveloped the area. If only he could extinguish the fires that were growing in strength.
I wish the fire kami were not deaf to my pleas! Maemuki thought, brows furrowed. He started to cough, smoke entering his lungs with every breath. Air. Something needs to be done about this air. "Spirit," he spluttered, "please cleanse this air." He waved one arm dismissively, and a steady ripple emanated from the movement, causing the smog to clear away like a fresh wave bringing sand to a beach.
As the ripple reached the first patch of fire on a roof nearby though, it roared with energy, gaining strength and size from the squall of wind. Maemuki flinched in surprise, again forgetting his on. "Fortunes!" he blurted, unthinking. The air is now clean but I've exacerbated the situation! he thought, biting his lower lip.
To make matters worse, there was no more shouting from the rest of the village; clearly the attackers were suspicious about the smoke being swept away.
Maemuki knew there wasn't much time to save the buildings. I had better be quick before they interrupt me. Just because I cannot commune with the fire kami doesn't mean I cannot extinguish the flames.
"Spirits of air, hear this request," he spoke quietly in the language of the kami, knowing that he needed the air to be as calm as he wanted the fires to be. "Please deny your air to the fire, do not let your kin feed greedily off your kindness." With that, Maemuki inhaled deeply before closing his eyes and mouth, preventing the air in his lungs from escaping.
The autumn breeze stopped in its tracks, a stillness falling across the grassland. Other Rokugani would probably find this to be mild, pleasant weather, but for a shugenja attuned to the ways of the air, it was stifling. Maemuki wanted desperately to release his breath, to fill his body with fresh, joyful air, but he knew it was vital to resist the temptation; why should the immortal air kami hold their breath from the flames if the shugenja who asked them to was not willing to do the same?
As each agonising second crept on, Maemuki found that he couldn't hear the flames anymore. Instead the throbbing of his forehead was the sole sound he could detect, pounding with ever increasing fervour as he fought to maintain control of his breath. His eyes remained closed, but where moments before he could still perceive the sunlight warming his eyelids with a healthy glow, now all he could see was a smudgy black, with splodges of red appearing. He couldn't keep it in anymore, the strain was too great.
"Ahh!" he gasped, wheezing in several quick short gulps of air in succession. He opened his eyes and held his free hand to his chest, as if checking that his heart hadn't burst forth from his body.
"Behind the storehouse!" came the shout of a rough, raspy voice. "I heard someone!"
This is no time for a rest, Maemuki reminded himself. He dropped his furoshiki, thinking to collect it later if he survived the inevitable confrontation with those attacking the village. There was only some raw rice and a spare change of clothes inside it anyway, so it would be of no use. The young samurai then turned and sprinted around the side of the storehouse, to the thoroughfare path that led through the village proper.
As he took in the scene around him, Maemuki noted with some pride that he had at least saved the village from being completely razed to the ground in flames. Almost every roof in view was severely blackened, with a few collapsed eaves here and there, but on the whole each structure still appeared fairly sturdy, and there were only a few dying tendrils of wispy smoke rising gently in the otherwise clean air.
"It's a shugenja! Watch yourself!" called a voice nearby, more nervous and less authoritative than the first speaker.
Maemuki stopped assessing his handiwork and instead gazed around for signs of life. A handful of corpses littered the ground, all of men who had taken up arms with their farming implements to defend their families. Each had been cut down by a skilled swordsman, stabbed repeatedly by a spearman, or had their heads caved in with some form of hammer or club. The women and children of the village were nowhere to be seen, but Maemuki was confident they were all gathered together in the headman's hut at the centre of the village.
Two men stepped into view, neither of them bearing mons or identifiable clan colours. The dented plates of ashigaru armour they had strapped over their clothes protecting their torso and thighs glistened with peasant blood. One was much larger than his companion, and rested the head of a dai tsuchi against one shoulder. The shorter one bore a simple yari.
"Shugenja?" asked the tall ronin in the same rough voice Maemuki had heard earlier. "Can't be. Ain't got no scrolls on him, Kenta. See? He's even got a katana! Only Dragon shugenja carry them, and this one's a Phoenix." He grunted a smile, revealing a missing tooth.
The shorter ronin scrunched his face up, confused. "But if the Phoenix didn't get rid of the fire, who did?" he squeaked. He jerked his head up at the Shiba. "Little Phoenix, where are your buddies? Are they hiding in the soot and ashes?"
The big one laughed, then turned to look over his shoulder, toward the centre of the village. "Satsuma, get over here!" he yelled.
Several unseen men shouted in reply, and seconds later Shiba Maemuki was standing against nine ronin all in a line, each armed with weapons that had been far superior to the farming tools of the villagers they had slain. All but one were glancing around, on the lookout for Maemuki's Phoenix comrades who they were sure would reveal themselves at any second.
The other ronin had eyes only for Maemuki, trying to read the expression on the Shiba's face. His weapon was a fine katana, probably taken from a samurai he had killed in battle. He was the only man amongst them all who wore his bleached white hair in a topknot, as the others either sported shaved heads or let their hair hang loose, not caring about appearance.
Maemuki had no idea what expression was currently painted on his face. He knew he was outmatched, in number and ferocity. Maemuki recalled the arrogant words of the Master of Air weeks earlier, announcing that he would achieve nothing amongst the Isawa scholars or armies of the Phoenix. Each utterance had amounted to the same thing; in the eyes of his clan Shiba Maemuki was worthless, yet the Phoenix had borne the cost of training him because of the tradition that had begun with Shiba Tsuna, the founder of the Tejina school of Illusionists. How he wished Tsumaro had at least spared a single Shiba yojimbo to protect him on his journey to Dragon lands, instead of telling him to "trust in the kami."
Isawa Tsumaro-sama sends me to tell stories in the courts of the Dragon, yet here I am, surrounded by ronin. I couldn't even make it to the assigned destination…
The leader of the gang cleared his throat to speak. "An unarmoured Shiba wandering the Dragon Heart Plain?" His voice was calm, his tone civilised compared to his uncouth allies. "I don't think so. Where are your brothers, Shiba-san? Where is the shugenja who extinguished the fires we put so much effort into starting?"
Fear! Cries! Well, at least Maemuki knew he wasn't truly alone. There would always be the air kami, so long as he quelled the terror that was rising from his belly.
"Just skewer him already, Kenta!" The brute with the dai tsuchi slapped the shorter man beside him.
"Watch it!" Kenta retorted, before taking up a throwing stance. He looked Maemuki up and down, then lifted his yari and hurled it directly at the Shiba's stomach.
Maemuki had to react quickly. He sang with all of his soul in the language of the kami, a mixture of garbled but harmonious tones from the perspective of the nine ronin, "Spirit, direct it where you will!"
The spear's course veered and its velocity increased, hurtling past Maemuki before soaring up in the air above. It then completed a loop and flung itself unerringly through the ronin Kenta's neck, knocking him onto his back with great force. The other ronin all looked on in disbelief as their friend convulsed on the ground, blood spurting from the gaping hole that was drilled through his neck like a geyser erupting.
Maemuki was shocked at such violence as well, as the kami had not merely deflected the yari as he had expected, but he knew there was no time for delay; this was the only opportunity he would receive. Without hesitating, Maemuki called out to any kami that would hear his prayer, unsheathing his brother's katana from its saya as he did so. Then, all of a sudden, the Phoenix shugenja was wreathed in bright flames, engulfing him from head to toe, even to the end of his blade.
"Shugenja!" shouted Satsuma, raising his own katana in a defensive stance; several of the other ronin took a careful, frightened step backwards.
But the flames did not cease there. From the dying embers within the nearby rooftops, columns of fire roared to life as though they were phoenixes being reborn. Waves of heat pulsed outward from each pyre, bolstered by a swell of wind which also served to carry the flames to surrounding structures.
Maemuki couldn't help but laugh exuberantly, and although he fully expected it to be drowned out by the raging inferno of the burning village, he heard his joy echo as if he had shouted into a deep cave.
"Kill him now!" Satsuma urged his companions, only to be rebuffed by the surrounding flames leaping from the nearby rooftops to land directly in front of him, flickering defiantly.
"You're on your own, Satsuma!" yelled the tallest ronin over the din. He hefted his dai tsuchi in both hands and bounded away as fast as his sturdy strides would take him, leaving the blazing village for the safety of the grassland.
The white-haired ronin turned and spat in the other man's direction in disgust. "Coward!" he shouted, before settling his attention back on Maemuki. "Come on, he's only one pathetic Shiba!" To prove his determination, the ronin slashed at the wall of fire with his katana, although it achieved nothing.
All this while, Maemuki had not stopped laughing, as if concentrating solely on being as loud as he could. He raised both immolated arms above his head in reverence to the sky, causing the rampant fire to intensify, spreading further to devour more fuel.
"Let's go, Satsuma, before we burn alive!" called one of the remaining ronin. He turned and bolted after the first ronin, accompanied by the rest of his gang; all save Satsuma himself.
"You destroyed this village more than we could have done, foolish Phoenix!" Satsuma growled, before spinning on his heels to catch up to his fleeing companions. The ronin kept running, and not once did any of them glance back at the village as it was inexorably consumed.
Meanwhile, in the headman's hut at the centre of the village, mothers held their children close, praying fervently to Jizo, the Fortune of Mercy.
"It's a furnace in here!" the headman's wife cried in despair. "We will roast to death!"
One of the boys, braver than the others, was not huddled against his mother, pointed at the worn door of the hovel as it warped and splintered under the heat of the conflagration occurring outside. "Look!" he yelped.
Fire rushed into the room, approaching the cowering peasants with a 'whoosh'! Mothers clutched onto their children for the last time, whispering words to any Fortune they could remember the name of. Within seconds the flames enveloped them all.
And yet, despite their collective fear, the fire was harmless, nothing more than flickering warmth. "Fortunes be praised!" the headman's wife intoned, followed by everyone else in the room. A few seconds later, the flames sputtered and died, extinguishing themselves. Nothing was burnt, nor was the door cracked or damaged.
At the edge of the village, the likewise extinguished Shiba Maemuki stopped laughing, inhaling air through his nose to calm himself. False flames? he thought elatedly. Truly, the air kami tell the greatest jokes! Then, with one last look at the village, the Illusionist walked on, toward the Dragon mountains to fulfil his duty.