Guardian, Saviors of Kamigawa

CHAPTER 12

The great Jukai Forest was almost as large as all the surrounding territories combined. A vast tangle of massive cedars and tall, grassy hills, Jukai was so large it could experience five different types of weather at once. The eastern edge of the woods had never been mapped, as no survey team had ever found it and returned.

This remote corner of Konda’s domain was some of the wildest and most dangerous country in all Kamigawa. There were very few human tribes, and those that did dwell in the east were extremely religious and intensely private. The orochi-bito snakefolk held sway in these deepest recesses of the forest, and while over thirty tribes had been identified, no one was truly sure how many snakes there were.

It was upon this remote wooded expanse and against these fabled creatures that the soratami descended. Their warriors came down from the sky in huge cloud chariots, raining ice-blue magic and silver arrows upon any orochi they saw. As the crescent moon smiled sharply on the horizon, wave after wave of silver-white war machines stooped down to the treetops, unleashing a grim tide of armored soratami clad in shimmering mail armor.

To any observer it would have seemed as if the pale, slender warriors were lashing out at the forest itself, blasting thick stands of trees with their crystalline magic and piercing great hedgerows with volleys of spears and arrows. The moonfolk left little more than shattered trunks and broken boughs as the lifeless bodies of camouflaged orochi fell from their hiding spots.

Mochi, the Smiling Kami of the Crescent Moon grinned, and the actual moon turned so that its points were facing up. As was his custom when manifesting in the utsushiyo, he now took the unthreatening form of a small, chubby, blue-skinned cherub with bright eyes and a dazzling smile. As Mochi became solid, the moon overhead returned to its normal position.

So far, the campaign was going splendidly. There were hundreds of soratami warriors already in the forest, with thousands more arriving or on the way. Almost the entire Oboro garrison had been mustered and sent into the woods. They had not found the homes of the largest orochi tribes yet, but he was certain they would. When they did, the dominant snakes would fall as easily as the small pocket of resistance his army was devastating right now.

The soratami were spectacular in all-out warfare, a study in grace blended with power wrapped in a shroud of stealth. It was something everyone should be able to see and appreciate, even if it meant they had to be on the wrong end of the moonfolk’s swords.

First came the shinobi, scouts and spies who could walk through walls and dance on dust motes without drawing attention. The orochi had to breed for generations before they could blend into the deep woods as effectively as Mochi’s agents did with just a few weeks’ preparation, and the soratami were not limited to the forest. They could disappear just as easily on the plains of Towabara or the marshes of Takenuma.

This invisible advance team had located all of the orochi dens and gathering places, even mapping the most likely shelters they would be driven to when attacked. When the fighting started, the soratami warriors knew exactly where to look for their prey.

The warriors themselves were a special point of pride for Mochi, as they wore his crescent moon standard, and their enchanted mail perfectly mimicked the shine of moonlight on pure silver. They were armed with traditional katana and they floated like ethereal dancers through the moss and cedar, blades flashing and spinning through the trees. Mochi could easily imagine there were no orochi at all and that his army was simply performing an intricate military exercise … if not for the vile hissing of the snakes and the stench of their watery green blood.

Overhead, scores of cloud chariots waited for the chance to deposit more warriors on the field. Mochi folded his chubby fingers over his bulging belly and sighed happily. Things were working out so well.

His agents in Eiganjo had told him of Konda’s plan to raid the spirit world as soon as the daimyo consulted them about it. Instead of seeing this as an outrageous blasphemy like any decent kami, Mochi saw only opportunity. Like many spirits who have frequent interaction with the physical world, Mochi had been exposed to his worshippers’ way of thinking. He had experienced enough of their worldview to understand and even share it.

Konda was intending to disrupt the natural order of things, the balance between physical and spiritual. Such an act would have dangerous, unpredictable repercussions, and so Mochi decided that he would not only allow it, but also facilitate it.

In the twenty years of strife since Konda made his raid, Mochi had time to reflect on the wisdom of his actions and their true motivations. His introspection revealed three important things: One, he did not know what to expect as a result of Konda’s crime, but he was sure he could capitalize on it for his own benefit; two, if Konda succeeded it meant the oldest and most sacred laws could be broken by someone with enough will and power, which he could capitalize on for his own benefit in the long term; and three, it was a waste of time second-guessing his own genius because he made good decisions even when he didn’t have all the facts.

A trio of orochi turned on a pursuing soratami and enveloped him in their strong, flexible bodies. Too late to save the warrior, Mochi directed a nearby squad of soratami to avenge their fallen comrade. It pained him to lose his noble followers, but this war was for a great cause, and sacrifices had to be made.

When the kami attacks started, Mochi knew that Konda’s reign would not survive. The daimyo had done a remarkable job uniting the different peoples behind him, but once he was gone they would undoubtedly fall back into petty skirmishing and tribal warfare. Mochi knew the soratami would be largely unaffected, safe in their cloud cities, but he also thought the soratami destiny was to be more than elite survivors. They were exalted beings who worshiped him, after all. If anyone was fit to rule Kamigawa, it was the moonfolk.

If he had conceived the plan on his own beforehand, Mochi might have tried to bring Konda down or perhaps even challenge him on the field of battle. The soratami had a far smaller army than the daimyo, but Mochi would put a single one of his warriors against a whole platoon of Konda’s in any situation.

Once Konda had decided his course, however, it became unnecessary to take action in order to topple him-he had doomed himself by his rash act. It might take decades, even centuries, but eventually the spirit world would come to claim what the Daimyo had stolen. When it did, Mochi intended for the soratami to rise in Konda’s place as the dominant culture in Kamigawa. The soratami armada had stayed primed and ready for years, and could wait another century if necessary.

Thus, when O-Kagachi manifested and attacked the tower at Eiganjo, Mochi knew his time had come. His moonfolk had been carefully building their base of power in the Takenuma underworld for years, but he had always intended to openly attack the orochi. Of all the tribes in the world, the snakes were the ones with the purest and closest connection to their patron kami. It galled Mochi, but he knew it was true because the snakes and other wild tribes of Jukai were mere beasts. They didn’t have the capacity to examine their choices; they simply saw a powerful spirit that made the trees green and the grass grow and that was enough for them.

Further, the forest myojin was one of the most violently aggrieved by Konda’s crime. Except for O-Kagachi himself, Life’s Web was the spirit most closely tied to the natural order. Like all beasts she was aggressive, hostile, and fierce when it came to protecting her territory. She would have punished Konda for his actions and undone the damage before Mochi had a chance to make use of it. He had arranged for Life’s Web to be diminished so that O-Kagachi would have time to manifest, and now Mochi was determined to wipe out her followers so that she would never rise to challenge him again.

A flicker of regret marred Mochi’s celebratory mood. Dealing with Life’s Web had been a tricky business and required his personal intervention, but it had been effective. The price he paid for removing the most dangerous obstacle to his plans was the introduction of an even more troubling player: Toshi Umezawa.

The ochimusha had snatched the Taken One from under O-Kagachi’s nose just as the great serpent was about to level Eiganjo with Konda inside. Worse, Toshi brought the prize to Oboro’s doorstep and even had the temerity to attack Mochi himself. If he weren’t protected by the Myojin of Night’s Reach, Toshi would never have been able to cause so much trouble, but with such a powerful patron, he was a dangerous provocateur.

Night’s Reach, now there was a spirit that had traffic with the physical world. Even the dumbest forest brute understands the power of darkness and either curses or blesses it, depending on its position in the predator-prey relationship. She was old and vast, more so even than Mochi himself, and she was a puzzle to him even now. She had supported Mochi against Life’s Web, but now Night’s acolyte actively worked directly against Crescent Moon.

The little blue kami smiled, bathing the surrounding forest in pure moonlight. Toshi had been a problem, but even with the support of his patron he had not been able to stop the soratami’s ascension. There were thousands of dead orochi who could provide mute but unshakeable testimony to Mochi’s success. There had been setbacks, of course, but Minamo, Oboro, and virtually all of Kamigawa was a small price to pay if he and his could rebuild the world to their liking and rule it as they saw fit.

Smiling, Mochi rose up into the sky. In the trees below, the advancing soratami were setting mystical fire to a large pile of brush and dead snakes. It had been a dry winter, and without magical help the fire would consume uncountable acres of living forest, along with every living thing therein.

The moon kami spun slowly, drinking in the full panoramic view of the slaughter. Every life lost, every snake cut down and every tree burned diminished his enemy and empowered him. When the snakes were all dead or routed, Mochi would construct a new capital in the clouds right above this very spot. It would commemorate this moment when he, the Smiling Kami of the Crescent Moon, had seen the shape of soratami victory. Let fire and carnage and the ultimate spirit beast raze the world down to the bare soil. The moon would go on shining, and the soratami would remain above it all.

Sparkling as he rotated, Mochi flashed another blinding smile and disappeared.

Mochi reappeared in the largest cloud vessel in the armada. The massive conveyance was as large as a warship and had not descended to the forest. This was the soratami headquarters and flagship, and it was buzzing with activity.

Two soratami women were waiting for him in the innermost chamber. The room was lavishly decorated with bolts of luxurious cloth and huge satin couch-pillows. The women did not speak as they lounged around a lacquered table. At the center of the table was a shallow bowl filled with vivid blue liquid. A single candle floated on top.

Both women had the soratami’s exquisite white skin. They wore their hair in a tightly wound pile that was somehow unruly and severe at the same time. Their long ears were each wrapped tightly around their heads.

On the left sat Uyo, the silent prophet. Most soratami were androgynous, and Uyo was no exception, though her features were especially fine. She never physically spoke, but Uyo’s voice carried more authority than any other single soratami in the entire world. She was the high priestess of a powerful cult who had honed the power of their minds. Uyo herself had the unique ability to see into the future, though her visions were difficult to interpret. Mochi and Uyo had been a great help to one another, he assisting her with interpreting her visions, and she providing him with advance information that only a prophet could know.

On the right sat Chiyo, one of Uyo’s most talented students. She had also had especially elegant features, but lately she had taken to wearing a large, metallic mask of the crescent moon that completely hid half of her face. The upper point of the crescent hung high above her forehead while the lower jutted out below her chin. The edge of the curve descended across her face to cover one eye, her nose, and half her mouth. There was no opening for her to see or breathe through, but the surface of the moon-mask was covered in glittering, incandescent dust that wafted around her head like a halo.

The visible half of Chiyo’s face still displayed her strong features, but the muscles were tight and her expression dour. She had barely survived the oni’s initial assault on Oboro and would have been killed if not for the city’s defenders. She never shared the details of what happened to her, but Mochi knew. Out of respect for her years of dedicated service, he had never openly questioned her account of being badly mauled by an oni. It was technically true, after all, but not entirely true. Still, whatever the cause, she now believed herself disfigured and had adopted the crescent mask to both soothe her pride and honor her kami.

Chiyo had always been one of the fiercest soratami, intimidating even the most seasoned warriors, but the mask made her even more daunting. Mochi intended to give her a city of her own to rule once the soratami nation was established, and he expected her to become as powerful as a queen before she was half Uyo’s age.

Greetings, my children. Mochi always hailed Uyo and her followers mind-to-mind, as a sign of his personal favor and to keep their discussions private.

Greetings, Mochi-sama. Unlike her pale and stoic exterior, Uyo’s inner voice was rich and throaty, alive with intellectual force and just a hint of carnal possibilities. How goes the war?

Splendidly, thank you. Though I see you have something even more relevant to share.

Uyo turned to her student. Chiyo’s visible eye was a cold, cruel blue and her inner voice was seething and bitter.

He has come, Chiyo sent. Toshi Umezawa.

The ochimusha, here? I applaud his energy, if not his judgement. Has he …?

He has. The Taken One is nearby.

Well, this is an interesting development. What do you propose to do?

Chiyo turned away angrily. Uyo’s throaty voice smoothly broke in and she said, Chiyo has some definite ideas on that. Suffice to say she wants to kill him with all available speed. She has already asked for a squad of shinobi and bushi to accompany her, but she is ready to go alone if you so wish it.

I do not. Mochi’s cheeks bunched up as he grinned. This is a matter of some concern, but nothing that demands such drastic action. I have a better plan in mind for our friend.

Uyo nodded. You see, my student? Mochi-sama always has a better plan.

Chiyo’s eye narrowed. Then I ask to be a part of that plan.

The little blue kami folded his hands over his belly and rose into the air. His voice was playful. You are, my dear. Intimately and necessarily, you already are.