Previously on Coiled Fates, a Greensnake naga known as the Mara discovers Rokugani humans in the Shishomen, the forest homeland of her people. When they prove hostile, she joins the Shahadet’s scouting party to learn more about the invaders’ true intentions.

Now, you can read or listen to the second chapter of Robert Denton III’s new serial set in the world of Legend of the Five Rings and part of the saga of the Clan Wars. Discover the heroes and warriors of the naga before the release of Champions of Rokugan, coming soon from Monolith Board Games. Sign up to the Legend of the Five Rings newsletter and subscribe to the Aconyte Fiction Podcast to make sure you catch the rest of the series.

Coiled Fates

by Robert Denton III

Chapter Two

Mirumoto Daini was glad to finally leave his tent for the first time in three rainy days. He’d expected that the Shinomen Wood would test him; the stories suggested it was hostile to outsiders, cursed and filled with monsters. So far, the only thing the forest tested was his patience.

On his horse, Mirumoto Daini scanned the letter accompanying his traveling papers.

The prestigious Dragon Clan requests convenient and secure passage for the youngest scion of the Mirumoto family daimyō Mirumoto Daini, and his retinue. On this authority, they are asserted the right to adopt any convenient path into and through the Shinomen Forest for the purpose of seeking allies against the coming darkness.

Beneath were the stamps of many magistrates, waystations, and shrines. The personal emblem of the Dragon Clan Champion, Togashi Yokuni, was burned into the paper.

Seek allies against the coming darkness. By the nine Kings of Hell, what did that even mean?

Daini raised his eyes to his small escort. Ashigaru surrounded his trotting horse, their short hook-spears at the ready, waxed umbrellas mounted like flags on their backs to keep them dry. Some lightly armored scouts in hooded straw cloaks bobbed alongside them, resembling animated barberry shrubs. By his side, his retainer Mirumoto no Zurui Asagao surveyed the area from atop her horse. With her straw cloak and lacquered bowl-shaped hat, she reminded him of an umbrella pine. She nodded at the letter. “Does it say something different this time?”

As a lower samurai of the Zurui vassal family, Asagao’s habit of poking fun at her superiors should have resulted in constant reassignments. Daini preferred to keep her around. He was glad someone would still speak frankly with him.

Daini tucked the letter back into the wax-lined pocket hidden in the collar of his traveling coat. “Did you know that some samurai occasionally receive rational orders, unclouded by riddle or mystery?”

“Then I feel sorry for those samurai.” Asagao brought her horse to a stop. “Here is the path.”

He blinked at a wall of bamboo and bushy hostas. “Hm. You say this is a path?”

“Close enough to one,” she replied, dismounting and hacking away vegetation with a cleaver-shaped hatchet: her nata.

He dismounted, an ashigaru rushing forward to take the horse’s reins. Inhaling the forest’s wet petrichor, he untied the cords fastening his swords to their scabbards. He didn’t expect to have to draw them, but better to be prepared.

Having made an opening into the woods, Asagao knelt at Daini’s feet, resting her left fist on the ground, like Togashi when the Little Teacher enlightened him. “Once we find the ruins, I will send a scout back to report. If there are still bandits camped there, we will determine their numbers and–”

Daini waved his hand. “I will just accompany you, Asagao. That will be much simpler.”

The scouts exchanged looks. Asagao pursed her lips.

“Holding your tongue is unlike you, Asagao.”

She spoke carefully. “The Dream of Togashi teaches that by protecting oneself, one protects others.”

In other words, you think I’ll blow your cover. “My friend, I have spent the last three days staring at the inside of my tent and the backs of my own eyelids. I should like to see something else for a change.” He flashed a grin. “Besides, how can a samurai stand aside while robbers and killers walk with impunity?”

She deflated. “Yes, my lord. Of course. This way, please.” She instructed the ashigaru to watch the horses and to signal with a whistling arrow in an emergency. A wordless gesture sent the scouts ahead, and she held a patch of bamboo aside for Daini to cross.

A gray-green fog clung to the forest floor as they trudged down the path, leaves crunching under their feet. Thin plants rattled in the slight wind. Columns of weak sunlight fought through the cypress and chestnut canopy, but the gloom made it feel as though they were under a blanket.

Daini spoke at Asagao’s back. “You’re angry with me.”

“What gave you that impression, my lord?”

“You only call me ‘my lord’ when you’re angry.” He jogged up beside her. “You stand to gain much from this, you know. A promotion. Higher stipend.”

“I voiced my opinion,” she said. “What else is there to say?”

The report of bandits camping nearby had been the best news Daini had received in weeks. Finally, something to break the tedium. The scouts believed they were Forest Killers: brigands notorious for deforesting, poaching, raiding. Highly organized. The Great Clans stamped them out every few years, but they were never gone for long. To advance within the Forest Killers, one first had to kill a samurai; the more samurai one had slain, the higher in rank one became. No doubt these bandits had troubled the Falcon Clan for some time. And since the Falcon were the only allies in the Shinomen that Daini could discern, it would be better if they felt indebted to him before he asked a favor. Reconnaissance of the bandit camp seemed like a decent gift.

Asagao had been against it. Too risky. Yet here she was, misgivings disregarded, leading Daini along a deer trail through cursed woods. It was not a samurai’s place to question their lord, merely to obey. Not that Daini had ever set a good example of this.

“You’ll get revenge soon enough,” Daini remarked. “It seems Lord Yokuni wishes to teach me humility by having me truckle for the Falcon Clan’s favor.”

“I hope not,” Asagao said. “I am not certain you are capable of being humble.”

“When I finally have something to be humble about, I will be.”

Her eyes rolled, but Daini knew his star was on the rise. Only recently, he’d reminded Imperial Winter Court attendees of the Dragon’s existence, outmaneuvering a court veteran and defeating two challengers in duels. By winter’s end, matchmakers from both the Scorpion and Crane were offering him marriage candidates; the Deer Clan volunteered to mediate, which was… amusing. Daini’s success was the rationale for sending him on this mission. Lucky him.

His fingers grazed the letter tucked into his collar. Seek allies against the coming darkness. What darkness? Daini had his pick of calamities from which to guess; any one of them could be the vague threat preoccupying the Dragon Clan Champion’s every waking thought. But why did the Dragon Clan, esteemed by the Hantei dynasty and sheltered in the mountains, need allies? Since when did the petty affairs of the Empire ever matter to them?

“You will find your destiny in the Shinomen,” Yokuni had said. “Your fate will be coiled with the allies you find.” Daini was not certain he believed in destiny, but if the Dragon Champion knew what awaited them here, and the rumors about Yokuni’s foresight were true, then surely the cosmic dice had already been cast. He could only play his part.

They came to a parting of the brush, an overlook. Marble columns rose from the surrounding green among vague mossy structures that had partially collapsed. Daini could not discern their origin. They couldn’t be a lost shrine’s remnants as they didn’t conform to any architectural conventions he knew. But he recognized the tents and straw barriers clinging to the ruins like fleas. The bandit camp, no doubt. They’d even surrounded their encampment with a war curtain, although at this vantage that did little to disguise their layout and numbers.

A scout appeared and knelt by Asagao’s side. “Lady Zurui, the bandits seem agitated. There are armed patrols in the woods, looking for something.”

She frowned. “I don’t like it. Fall back.”

“We haven’t learned anything!” Daini protested. “At least let us try and get closer.”

The scout’s eyes widened. Asagao took a deep breath. “Those patrols could stumble upon us at any moment. Better to retre– strategically withdraw,” she corrected as Daini began another protest. “We can regroup and–”

A screech echoed above the trees.

A whistling arrow.

Any discord between Asagao and Daini evaporated. They sprinted back down the path. Daini glimpsed scouts in his periphery, shadows flitting between trees. Roots and tangles snared his feet, but he kept from stumbling. Asagao’s nagamaki was already in her hand, a long blade flashing above an equally long handle.

The overgrown road came into view. Asagao darted into the open, scouts pouring out behind her. Daini grasped his swords, his woven sandals splashing in a puddle.

Armored bodies lay in the dirt. The horses were nowhere to be seen. Above the fallen ashigaru, three strangers in mismatched armor grinned, one wielding a bow, about to launch another whistling arrow.

Asagao spun to face him, crashing into his shoulders, and shoving him away. He tumbled down, feeling her weight lifting up, along with the sound of unsheathed steel.

They came from the woods like ghosts through a fog. Screaming, axes swinging wild, eyes bright. Steel rang as axe met sword.

Daini pushed up to one knee. There was chaos all around. They’d lured his retinue with that whistling arrow. How did they know? Had they been spying from the woods?

Two bandits charged, axes flashing with deadly light.

Fear struck Daini like a wave, stripping away all rationale. That is what fear did; it kept the mind from forming coherent thoughts and the body from obeying commands. When overcome by fear, one could only act on instinct.

But that was why Daini had toiled all those long months in the Twin Heavens Dōjō and the untamed Dragon mountains. So that when fear stripped away reason, it left behind the instincts of a warrior. Of a samurai.

He ducked an axe swing and freed his katana.

The bandit screeched, his arm severed at the elbow.

Daini fell into a second cut. The scream ended.

The second man came swinging two hatchets.

Daini flicked his wet blade, sending blood into his attacker’s eyes. The bandit faltered, blinded. Daini’s first strike was clumsily deflected, but he freed his wakizashi and forced an opening. The katana followed, and the man’s head rolled off his shoulders.

His warrior fugue fading, Daini cast about for Asagao. She was prone against the roadside, caked in blood, an axe embedded in her ribs. An axe that had been meant for him.

She gasped as he helped her to a sitting position. “There is a letter… in my tent. Be sure… my sister…”

“You will deliver it yourself.” Daini tried to keep his voice calm. He searched the chaos, but no one was freed from fighting. Surely the remaining retinue at his camp would hear, would appear at any moment…

“You’re going… to get yourself… killed.”

He smirked. “Then I will die fighting beside my friend.”

Her mouth twitched, then parted into a gentle, toothy smile. “Then… what will all of this… have been for, idiot?”

Silence. No ring of steel. No rattling leaves. Just his heart beating in his ears as she went limp in his hands.

She warned you. You killed her.

And not just her. A dozen brave souls who had no idea why they died here, people with families and aspirations, risking their futures for causes they could not comprehend.

Heavy footsteps behind him. His victors, surely more than he could fight.

If he ran, he might reach his camp. The others waiting there could–

No. He’d just be leading killers to more victims. Samurai didn’t run from death. They ran toward it.

He faced them, blades held aloft in the Mirumoto stance. If he was to die here, then it would be a good death, and he would bring as many companions into hell as he could.

They were a grizzly lot. Axes painted on their patchwork armor. Stolen weapons. The Forest Killers looked like they’d crawled out of the ground. He’d been outnumbered fivefold. There was never a chance.

A rasping, shattered voice arose from them. “Not who we were looking for, but we’ll take ’em, right?” They laughed, brandishing their weapons. “If he lives, we sell him to the master. But don’t try too hard.”

The master? An employer? Were the Forest Killers selling kidnapped samurai to some ghoulish buyer?

A giant marched forward, raising a log-hewing axe above his head, just as an arrow fell from the sky into his neck.

Daini blinked, then dove for cover.

A sheet of arrows cascaded from the canopy. Daini rolled as new screams erupted through the clearing. Briefly, he wondered if his remaining retinue had rescued him, but the arrows were massive, too long to have come from Rokugani bows. Elongated things dropped silently from the trees, vaguely humanlike. The long, lashing shapes grimly plunged into the Forest Killers, throwing their bodies aside like ragdolls.

Had he been unknowingly injured and lost too much blood? Perhaps he was dreaming. These new combatants reminded him of dragon dancers weaving serpentine puppets. Their massive snake tails each carried an armored human torso covered in scales. They fought in eerie coordination, as if controlled by a single mind.

He was cast in a cold shadow. One of the snake-warriors towered over him, arching on its massive tail. Daini brought his wakizashi up to block a blow and his weapon was torn from his grip. The creature crashed down, spinning blades like a whirlwind of steel. His deflecting katana sent shockwaves through his arms. It was too big to fight, the tail blocking his strikes, while the torso towered far above his reach.

If I die here, no one will know what happened to us.

He stumbled over the creature’s tail, sprawling. His katana tumbled away. It lifted two great blades in victory.

I have failed the Dragon.

An arrow struck the ground at his feet.

The creature halted. Its tongue flicked from its mouth.

A second creature like the first – no, this one was a woman – slithered protectively around him. They hissed and rattled at each other, tongues lashing the air.

They were arguing, he realized.

But those sounds grew dim, his vision blurring. He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and saw himself being dragged by his feet. The snake creatures were taking him with them, but he did not know where.

“I am Mirumoto Daini,” he managed, but no one seemed to care.

Whatever clout or trust the Mara had hoped to gain, she’d lost when she intervened on the Rokugani’s behalf. The Shahadet would tell the Qamar that she’d pointlessly endangered herself. That she was unreliable, too independent to follow orders.

And yet, she didn’t regret staying the blade of the Shahadet.

“If I die here, no one will know what happened to us. I have failed the Dragon.”

Those words had not come from within her.

The Rokugani she’d shielded from the Shahadet. Had they… come from him?

That wasn’t possible. He was not naga. And she was untethered, besides. But the more she re-lived the moment, the more convinced she became. Those words, whatever they meant, were thought by the one they’d just dragged away.

Gingerly, she lifted his sword from where he’d dropped it. It was lighter than expected. The pommel was reptilian, the handle textured like snakeskin. She parted the blade from its sheath and saw her own reflection in the steel. A fine blade.

None of the loggers carried a weapon like this. His clothes were nicer, too. Was he a leader? A priest? Why was he so different?

“What should I do?” she whispered.

But no voice answered. The illuminating moment had passed, and the pool was dark once more, leaving her to wonder: who was this strange Rokugani?

And how could he speak through the Unity?