Scott McGough - Guardian, Saviors of Kamigawa

Roughly a dozen gigantic moths were here, housed in individual stalls twenty feet wide. Their broad, flat wings sparkled eerily in the gloom, leaving faint trails of iridescent powder in the air. Each was large enough to carry three grown men and strong enough to bear a month’s worth of rations for each. As they raised and lowered their wings, a glittering breeze swirled around the stable and the air echoed with their burbling song.

Toshi walked along the row of stables, appraising each moth in turn. He had ridden such great beasts before and knew how to spot the strong ones. In the second to last stall, he found one to his liking.

It was one of the largest, and its wings were covered in a colorful collage of pale yellow, brilliant orange, and gleaming white. Its body was thick and sturdy, its movements solid and strong. Here was a steed that could carry the burden Toshi had in mind.

He went back to the wooden box and brought it into the moth’s stall. Toshi tore off a piece from one of the gray bricks, thinking once again of how the soft and spongy material reminded him of moist bread. The moths were intelligent creatures, as much as dogs and horses, but they still responded best to food.

Toshi held the gray mass in front of the moth’s head. It inspected the stuff for a moment before plunging its sharp proboscis in. Within a few seconds, it had sucked all the moisture out of the material, leaving only a thin membrane in Toshi’s hand.

Toshi patted the great moth and it trilled happily. He unlatched the stall door and opened it, revealing the clear, calm courtyard below. Then he retrieved a bridle and reins from a hook on the wall and slipped them over the moth’s head. He lashed a saddle to the moth’s back and tied the wooden box full of moth food into a leather harness that fit behind the saddle.

“Steady, now,” Toshi said. He climbed onto the moth and eased into the saddle. Without being prodded, the moth rose on its legs and began to beat its wings more forcefully. It skittered forward and hopped out of its stall. Toshi’s stomach dropped.

Before they could fall, the moth’s great wings caught the air, and it swooped, skimming the ground. Toshi pulled up on the reins, and the moth burbled again, picking up speed and height as it soared silently through the huge hole in Eiganjo’s stone walls.

For a moment, Toshi watched the moth’s shadow on the ground far below. To someone down there, he and his steed would be silhouetted against the gleaming half-moon. He wondered if the daimyo’s people would be heartened by such a majestic sight or frightened by the strangeness of it.

Toshi glanced up at the great half-circle glowing so brightly in the skies over Eiganjo.

“Soon,” he whispered. “Your turn will come soon.”

Toshi kneeled outside the mahotsukai stronghold in the early-morning sun. He was dressed once more in his standard outfit of nondescript black cloth and leather armor, and he meditated as he traced simple kanji characters in the sandy soil, sorting through the next stages of his plan. He had left the moth securely tethered with three days’ supply of the gray bricks. He would be back to collect the great beast long before it ran out of food or grew bored enough to wriggle free of its harness. Kiku was with him, so he just needed to collect Marrow-Gnawer to complete the current roster of hyozan reckoners and get this grand enterprise underway.

“Toshi!” Kiku’s voice was furious from within the building.

Quickly, Toshi stood and faced the door. Kiku came storming out, her hard eyes blazing with rage and her soft mouth twisted into a grimace. She was fully dressed once more, decked out in fine purple satin and silk and bearing her colorful tessen fan that was as much a weapon as it was an accessory. She also wore two fuetsu throwing axes on her belt and a vivid purple camellia flower on her high-collared blouse.

“Good morning,” Toshi said. “How did you-?”

Kiku grabbed Toshi by the shirtfront and slammed her forearm into his chest. Toshi grunted as the air left his lungs. Kiku continued to push him backward.

“What happened to my face?” she seethed. “Where is the masters’ spell?”

Indeed, the shadowy black sheen that had been crawling across her face was gone. Toshi had hoped it would take Kiku longer to notice its absence.

He gagged as Kiku tightened his shirt around his throat. “You asked me to get rid of it,” he choked. “Remember? ‘I’m not me with this’? Last night, you asked me last night …”

“I said and did a lot of things last night that I’m regretting right now,” Kiku said. She shoved Toshi back, releasing him to stumble and fall on his backside. “In fact, I’m seeing things quite clearly.” Smoothly, her hand slid up to the flower on her blouse and picked it off.

“Stop,” Toshi said urgently. “We are both hyozan. We can’t turn on each other.”

Kiku held the camellia gingerly between two fingers. This was Kiku’s chosen form of killing magic. Her blooms could poison an entire village’s water supply or devour a man from the inside out. Once the flower touched its intended target, it grew and lashed out according to its nature, its roots digging into flesh and its perfume overwhelming anything it touched.

“Funny,” she said. “But I recall you telling me not to invoke the oath last night.”

“That’s not how it works,” Toshi said curtly. “We’re meant to protect each other, and, if that’s not possible, avenge. If we harm each other, the oath itself will destroy us.” Toshi cursed inwardly. He had abandoned the hyozan oath when Night’s Reach demanded it, so Kiku could in fact kill him with impunity right now. The only reason she hadn’t that was she didn’t know she could.

So instead Kiku stood, flower at the ready, her gaze sharp enough to cut glass. “Give me back the masters’ curse. It was their will and is my duty.”

“I didn’t take it,” Toshi said. “At least, I didn’t take it for myself. I only did what you asked. After you fell asleep. Look.” He pointed.

Kiku did not take her eyes from Toshi. “No,” she said. “Show me.”

Toshi marched slowly to edge of the kanji he had drawn in the dirt. He bent and retrieved a small clay tablet and showed the dull brown plate’s face to Kiku. Etched into the surface of the hardened clay was a kanji, a magical symbol formed from the combined characters for “solid” and “shadow.”

“It’s here,” Toshi said. “Ready when you want it. The masters’ spell was hasty and rough, Kiku. The power it gave you would have consumed you inside of a week. Now you can hold it in your hands, keep it in check until you decide to use it. You know I can contain power this way. You’ve seen me do it with the yuki-onna. You have to trust me.” He spread his arms out wide, exposing his chest and throat.

“I did what you asked me to do. I did it because we’re partners. If you still think I’m playing you, then strike. Kill me, crack the tablet, and reclaim the power. If you survive breaking our oath … which you won’t … I guarantee you’ll be cackling and drooling and singing to yourself in a matter of days.”

Kiku’s eyes were clear. Toshi watched her jaw work as she considered his explanation.

“We’re still headed for the waterfall? Where the soratami are?”

“Absolutely. As soon as we collect Marrow-Gnawer, we can be there in no time.”

Kiku sniffed, turned away, and then reattached the flower to her collar. “I don’t see why we need the nezumi.”

“Because he’s part of the hyozan as well. Because he’s tougher, smarter, and braver than any other ratfolk in Takenuma.”

Kiku turned. Her face was beautiful but brittle, like a china doll cast in a perpetual sneer. “Forget it, ochimusha. The deal’s off.” She scooped up the clay tablet and tucked it into her belt. “I suppose I should thank you. I am thinking far more clearly without the masters’ curse.”