Scott McGough - Guardian, Saviors of Kamigawa

Toshi peered from beneath his cowl. “I know you,” he said to the dog. “Why are you always so loud when you see me?”

“You may know Isamaru,” a thin but steady voice said. “However, he does not know you. Stand very still, sir. I would regret it if you were bitten accidentally.”

“Isamaru,” Toshi said, memorizing the name. The next time he saw this dog he wanted to be able to order it around by name. He nodded to Isamaru and dropped his jitte to his side but did not sheathe it. He called out over the dog’s barking, “This is Princess Michiko’s dog.”

“Sir. That dog belongs to Daimyo Konda himself.” An elderly man in a rumpled white uniform stepped out of the building. His skin was like translucent paper stretched tight over his bones. Wisps of silver hair peeked out from under his helmet and his left hand trembled. In his right he carried a long pole with a paper lantern strung to the end. Shuddering slightly, the old man lit the lantern and extended it out over the newcomer’s head.

“I am Acting Constable Aoyama,” the old man said. He peered at the robed man, scanning him from head to toe. Isamaru stopped barking but stood alert and ready within springing distance of the new arrival.

Constable Aoyama’s lamp shook as he spoke. “What are you doing near the stables, priest?”

Toshi shook his head, more amused than he expected to be. “I’m no priest.”

The constable grunted. “You wear the robes of a seeker. Are you a monk?”

“I am a seeker, but not a monk. I’m more of an acolyte, a follower. I aspire to spiritual greatness, but aspiration is a long way from achievement.”

The old man lowered the lantern. “Well, whatever you are, don’t try to preach strange religious beliefs in Eiganjo. The spirits have brought great hardship upon us lately.”

Toshi tilted his head toward the broken walls and the damaged tower. “So I see,” he said. “But rest easy, constable. I’m not one for preaching, though I do feel much safer knowing you’re on the job.”

Aoyama laughed. “Don’t be too confident,” he said. “All of our able-bodied men are dead or fighting on the frontier. That leaves patrols and other mundane duties to old men like me. I’m really just a groomsman with a uniform.” He lowered the pole to the ground to steady the lantern and drew his own weapon, a metal truncheon similar to Toshi’s.

“They told me the jitte was a constable’s tool,” Aoyama said. He absently turned the hooked truncheon over in his hand, letting the moonlight play across its surface. “But you wield one too.”

Toshi slowly lifted his jitte, extended his index finger, and let the hook dangle from it. “I didn’t realize the Daimyo was so specific about who can carry what weapons.”

Aoyama straightened. “In Eiganjo,” he said sternly, “the constable’s hook is like the samurai’s sword. It is a badge of office as well as an essential tool for performing the duties of that office.”

“Of course, Acting Constable. Please know that I respect that office and those duties.” Toshi twirled his own jitte around his finger and then caught it by the handle. “But I mainly use mine to keep people from stabbing me.”

Aoyama laughed. “It’s good for that, too.” He sheathed his jitte and relaxed. Isamaru also sat, but his eyes were wide and he panted, showing the hooded figure his large white teeth.

The constable gestured with the pole. “Why aren’t you fighting with the other young men?”

“I am not a citizen of Eiganjo. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been fighting the Kami War elsewhere, in my own way.”

“Forgive me, acolyte. I meant no disrespect,” Aoyama said. “But you should know there is danger here. An akki horde not half a day’s march to the north. They have been trying to mount an offensive against the fortress since … since …”

The old man faltered. Isamaru whined.

The visitor spoke up. “Since the walls were breached?”

“Yes.”

The hooded head cocked to one side. “A terrible day. But still … goblins on the plains of Towabara?”

“Unbelievable, I know. But true. They were led here by sanzoku bandits and they breed like maggots. Isamaru here accompanies the soldiers to and from the battle. Captain Okazawa himself made him an honorary soldier for the duration.” He leaned forward and ruffled the fur on the dog’s head with a palsied hand. “Without Isamaru here, and Yosei, the fortress would have been overwhelmed in a matter of hours.”

“Yosei?”

“The spirit dragon who protects Eiganjo. He could not stop the destruction of the tower and he suffered terrible wounds, but he still kept the goblins from our door.” Aoyama moved the lantern aside and looked up into the night sky. “There,” he said. “That streak of light to the north. Can you see it?”

Toshi followed Aoyama’s gaze. “I see it.” Indeed, a thin stream of light etched a glowing spear to the left the moon. It could have been a large comet or shooting star, but it was uniformly bright along the length of its streamlined body. As it streaked over the broken tower, its serpentine features stood out clearly against the dark sky. This was Yosei, the Morning Star, guardian beast from the spirit world who served Eiganjo when most of his fellow spirits turned against the world of flesh and substance.

As majestic and awe-inspiring as Yosei was, he was clearly diminished from his full glory. His proud, whiskered head indicated he should be a long, sinuous creature, but his body seemed to be only half of what it should be. Yosei shone with a bright white light, but the mangled end of his body left a trail of glittering purple haze and thick pink vapor.

“He is awesome indeed, Constable. But is he well?”

Aoyama’s chest swelled. “He has borne that terrible wound you see for many days now. Any lesser creature would have died on the spot, but Yosei continues to fight. The soldiers say he will not die until the last goblin has been scoured from the plains.”

“Magnificent. Between the great spirit dragon and the daimyo’s glorious battle-moths, Eiganjo rules the sky. The akki cannot hope to prevail.”

Aoyama’s face soured. “Forgive me, acolyte. I never did get your name.”

The green-eyed man turned to the constable. “Toshi,” he said. “You can call me Toshi.”

“I am the keeper of the moth stables, Toshi. It is my sworn duty to care for these great beasts and to protect them from harm.” Aoyama drew his jitte. “What is your interest in them?”

Toshi smiled. “You may be old, Acting Constable Aoyama, but you are still keen. I had heard that the moths were all but wiped out in the recent battle here. I wanted to see them with my own eyes before they are gone for good.”

Aoyama lowered his weapon. “I see. You’re almost too late, Acolyte Toshi. There are barely a dozen of the great moths left, and even that is too many for us to feed.”

“How tragic,” Toshi said. “Will you let them starve, or will you release them to fend for themselves?”

Aoyama shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I am a loyal servant of the daimyo,” he said stiffly.

“But also the moth’s only caretaker. I’m told they are magnificent creatures. Surely you wouldn’t just let them wither? Gossip around the fortress says Konda and the bulk of his army were slain, but survive as spirits to fight for your freedom. If the moths die, will they go on fighting? Will they join Konda’s spirit army? Or will they simply be dead?”

“Konda was not slain,” Aoyama said angrily. “And as for what happens to these moths when they die, I have no intention of finding out.”

“Ah, but you already have, constable. Because there are less than a dozen moths now, but a week ago there were more. As the food stocks dwindle, you’ve been letting some of them go.” Toshi’s eyes twinkled. “Haven’t you?”