Scott McGough: Heretic, Betrayers of Kamigawa

Pearl-Ear tore her gaze from Konda long enough to verify what her ears told her was true: though the citizens of Towabara shouted and stamped their feet along with the soldiers, their fervor was hollow and listless. Their situation was too grave and Konda had been too long detached from the lives of his people. He had once been the nation’s greatest joy, but all Pearl-Ear sensed now from the people was the painful weight of desperation and a dour wave of fear. Whatever their ruler had gathered them to say, she prayed that it would give the people hope.

His herald called for silence. Konda stepped up to a podium and raised his arms wide.

“Children of Towabara,” he said, his voice deep and powerful. “You are all welcome here. As cruel fate has deprived me of my own daughter’s trust, I take great solace in the love and obedience you have shown me today.

“I have brought you here to reassure you-not by words, but by demonstration. Our enemies are strong. They are numerous, and relentless. It is the power of our nation that excites them, the fear that we will become more powerful than they. When I began to unify the tribes and city-states of this land under my protection, other great daimyo behaved in exactly the same manner. They would rather attack than accept the wisdom of joining a greater cause, would rather viciously and spitefully wound the great state that seeks to lift them up. The kami and great myojin of the spirit world are frightened, my people. Frightened of you and me and the strength we represent. I thought I could turn aside their fear and their anger long enough for them to see our inevitable victory, for we are the future of Kamigawa. I thought this, but I was wrong.”

Audible gasps of disbelief ran through the crowd. Konda gripped the podium and leaned forward.

“Yes, my children, wrong. The armies of the kakuriyo have abandoned any semblance of honorable warfare. They strike from ambush without warning, without regard to youth or innocence. Recent events have proven that they will stop at nothing, not even the use of their ultimate weapon on troops performing a mission of mercy in the name of a father’s love …”

Konda’s loud voice trailed off, and his mind seemed to wander as his eyes drifted across his face.

“What about the Spirit Beast?” someone shouted. “Three thousand dead in a single stroke and a hundred acres swallowed whole. We all felt the tremor, Great Lord. What power do we have in the face of that?”

The speaker had dared too much. Pearl-Ear had pinpointed the man’s position in the crowd seconds before the soldiers nearby fell on him and rendered him silent.

“My brother died in that folly, daimyo.”

“And mine. No one can tell me how or why.”

“Do you even know, Konda?”

The voices began to come from all around the courtyard, faster than the guards could find and muffle them. The daimyo had claimed the kami were frightened, but Pearl-Ear heard true fear in the voices of Konda’s subjects as they cried out for their sons, brothers, wives, and sisters who had fallen.

A flash of bright white light crackled across Konda’s body. “Enough.” Though his voice was smooth and even, it was loud enough to shake the fortress walls and drive half the audience to their knees.

Among the groans and gasps, Konda continued. “I will not be shouted at by you rabble like an absent-minded servant. We have all suffered from this war. Why this has happened is not as important as our response.

“I am your lord and master, and more, I am your protector. I have assessed the threats we face, new and old, and I have devised our answer to those threats.” He raised and lowered his arm, and the drummers beat out a new tattoo. Across the courtyard, the great main gates opened to reveal a massive company of mounted soldiers. Beyond the cavalry, five thousand infantry stood at the ready.

“The go-yo and the Eiganjo battalion have proven themselves capable of protecting this city. The rest of my army will ride forth into Kamigawa, driving the kami before them. No longer will my retainers sit and wait to be attacked. If the kakuriyo seeks total warfare, we will fight it on our terms, not theirs.”

With a grand flourish, Konda waved his arms. A line of strange shapes soared out from behind the tower, matching rows of twelve on each side. With their huge, flat wings gracefully beating the air, huge moths spread out over the courtyard below, the pale yellow light glittering on their powdered wings. From their specially designed saddles, armored moth riders guided their steeds through their circling pattern as they soared and looped overhead.

The daimyo paused, and Pearl-Ear realized he was waiting for a reaction from the crowd. He was expecting a surge of applause, a riotous cheer from ten thousand grateful throats. Instead, not even the soldiers responded. Most were too busy eyeing the crowd, eager to pounce on anyone who broke the silence with more catcalls. The rest looked as pale and as frightened as their civilian peers.

Konda’s face darkened. He raised one fist and the white light crackled around him once more. “Behold,” he cried. “The kami send their most titanic beast to crush our resolve. When that beast comes again, it will not face mounted cavalry. Mere men cannot stand against the ultimate expression of the spirit world’s ire. No, to protect us against the marauding kami and the hostile myojin, I give my children Yosei, the Morning Star, mighty spirit dragon, guardian of the Eiganjo and all its loyal citizens.”

Konda’s fist opened. The stale air above the courtyard began to spin. It formed a dense ball of yellow fog, illuminated from within by the same crackling light that adorned the daimyo. The fog thickened and spread, rising higher into the yellow sky until it was as large as the courtyard. As it passed over the moths, the great insects shuddered.

The spirit dragon Yosei burst from the fog like a snake slithering free of its leathery egg. He was long and slender. His forearms were folded flat along his streamlined body, and his scales bristled along his spine. His head was round, but his snout was flat and broad with whisker-like barbels on each side of his wide lips.

The white dragon coiled himself like a spring, spiraling higher until his hind legs and tail pulled free of the foggy dome. When he was whole and clear, Yosei’s head darted down into the column created by his own coils. He emerged barely fifty yards over Konda, and there the great dragon stopped.

The daimyo gazed up, as did every other person in the courtyard. Pearl-Ear glanced at Konda then back up at Yosei, captivated by the huge beast. The dragon’s barbels resembled Konda’s long mustache, and when the daimyo nodded, the dragon nodded back.

Yosei’s head shot forward toward the open gate. The rest of his long, graceful form followed the exact path of his head, curving down and around itself until the tip of his tail vanished through the gate and rose into the sky, out of sight. A trail of dust and yellow fog followed in his wake for a second, then dispersed.

“Yosei will not rest,” Konda declared, “until he finds and destroys the Great Spirit Beast. In sending their most dreadful spirit against us, the kami have shown us their true power. I cannot allow such a display to go unanswered, and I will not allow another loyal subject of this realm to die when I can meet their greatest force with an even greater one.

“For Yosei serves me, as I serve you, and together we shall defeat our enemy. The kakuriyo is in its death-throes. When it is done thrashing, our entire nation will stand supreme.”

Now the soldiers did cheer, and soon the citizens joined in, swept along by the fervor Yosei inspired. A chant of “Konda, Konda!” rose over the cheers, and the daimyo bowed his head. The drummers began to play an exit processional. Konda turned and disappeared into the tower, followed by his bodyguards. In the courtyard, the crowd and soldiers continued to exult.