Kaiju Rising: Age of Monsters (52 page)

Only he was no longer a little boy.
Father guide my arrow.

His hands did not tremble this time.

The fourth arrow streaked directly through the center of the straw man’s face.

~

Four years before, the hunt had begun.

Munetaka was woken by the grunting of pigs. A wet, pink snout was biting at his face to see if he was edible so the young samurai slugged the pig in the eye. It squealed indignantly and retreated. He found himself lying in a pile of straw, his back against a peasant’s shack, and a sake jug in his lap. It sloshed when he moved it, so he choked down the remainder. It was the cheapest swill in Kamakura, but it got him drunk enough to sleep, and that’s what counted.

“I figured you’d wake up if that pig started eating you.” There was a man leaning on the fence. His kimono bore the mon of the Minamoto clan. “If not, then that was some strong drink.”

“Who’re you?” Munetaka asked as he scratched himself.

“The better question is who are you, Nasu Munetaka?”

“Who’s that? I’m just some drunk ronin,” he lied.

“No. I recognize you. You do not look so different now, like a shorter version of your father. They say you would have been a handsome one if the sea hadn’t poisoned you so, that’s why you are still nothing but skin and bones.” The man gave him a sad smile. “They say you’re the best archer in all the land. They say you killed a hundred Tairu soldiers at the battle of Uji.”

“
They
say lots of stuff.” He had no idea how many he’d killed, but he’d shot at least twenty. It was hard to keep track. Lord Yorimasa had still lost though, and after his suicide they’d tossed his head in the river.

“Yet now you’ve been reduced to a life of crime, smuggling, and drinking. That’s rather sad. It’s to be expected though. You can’t tell someone their entire life that they’re a liar without honor, and not expect them to make it the truth.”

“You’re lucky I’m too hung over to string my bow to shoot you, friend.” The man seemed kind of familiar, but Munetaka couldn’t place him. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Saburo,” he answered as he climbed over the fence.

“The scribe?”

“Scholar, diplomat, things like that, in fact I’ve just returned from a mission to the Song court all the way across the sea, but I still remember your tragic story.”

“Yeah… Just a story…” Munetaka rubbed his bleary eyes. “Our dead lord saw to that.”

“Most of all I’m a collector of stories. The
gaijin
have stories too.” Saburo removed a piece of paper from his kimono and handed it over. “Like this one, about a war between witches and a king, where foul sorcery was used to turn a leviathan of the deep into a giant monster to wreck the king’s fleets. It comes all the way from a land called India.”

Munetaka could not read the strange foreign writing, nor could he recognize the coastline shown on the map, but at the bottom was a drawing and it was... “No.” The eyes, the tentacles, the spine, the blood red hide, It was
perfect.
His mouth was suddenly very dry. His hands began to shake so badly that it threatened to crumple the ancient paper. “It can’t be.”

“So it is the same then?”

Even though Saburo was of higher station, Munetaka leapt up and grabbed the scribe by the shoulders. “Can you take me to its lair?”

“It is very far away.”

“I know a good ship.”

“It is in a strange,
gaijin
land. We’ll need warriors.”

“Then we will find them!”

Saburo grinned. “I’ve always wanted to be part of a story.”

~

Six months ago, he had found the source.

The samurai had fought their way through the jungle temple, leaving a trail of dead and dying in their wake. One of the foreigners charged them with an oddly curved dagger. Munetaka drew an arrow and launched it in one smooth motion, piercing the throat and sending the
gaijin
to the stone. Two more cultists followed, screaming, but Munetaka released two more arrows in rapid succession and dropped them both. He stepped over the dying and observed his crew. They were hacking the last of the cultists to bits. Worshippers of foreign devils were no match for Munetaka’s experienced warriors.

In honor of their god of the depths, the cultists painted their skin red. Munetaka had painted their temple red with blood to defy it.

“That’s all of them, Captain. We took no casualties.”

“Good work.” Munetaka gave the ronin an appreciative nod. “Spread out and search.”

This land was always hot. The air was constantly moist. It made their equipment rust and their armor chafe. For years they had followed clues and consulted with wily foreigners. They had been caught up in battles and plagues. They’d crossed an ocean, a dozen kingdoms, and marched hundreds of miles, and every inch of it had been filled with discomfort and misery. It stood to reason that such an awful creature had been spawned in this cursed land. Despite all of those tribulations, the warriors he had gathered still followed him. He didn’t really understand. Munetaka had no real station. There was no honor to be gained in following someone considered to be a delusional madman, yet they followed his orders and trusted him with their lives.

Perhaps, if the Great Sea Beast hadn’t ruined his life, turned him into a drunk, and gotten him disgraced with his clan, Munetaka might have made a good captain after all...

They entered a great stone room, lit by flickering torches, covered in gaudy carvings and murals. In the center of a great basin was another statue of the Great Sea Beast, dyed red from the accumulated sludge of thousands of human sacrifices. Munetaka snarled, “Damned foreign devils.”

“Remarkable. This is the home of the cult of the Great Sea Beast.” Saburo was examining the murals. He alone could read their gibberish. “This is the repository of all their knowledge.” The scribe seemed giddy with excitement.

“All I need to know is where to find it and how to kill it.”

Saburo traced his finger down the wall. They had struck enough of these temples that Munetaka recognized the story shown in the pictures. Witches dragging a leviathan from the depths, cutting it apart, and torturing it with their
gaijin
sorcery until it had been twisted into the savage creature that had ruined his life. However, this series of pictures was different than the others.

“Interesting. They cut a bone from the leviathan. A horn… When the witches blew on the horn it made sounds that could awaken and summon the Great Sea Beast.” Saburo reached for a thick wooden lever on the wall and pulled it down.

There was a sudden grinding inside the wall. Munetaka had an arrow nocked within an instant. Rusty chains rattled through channels in the floor. The stone wall split, then slowly ground open. “What manner of
gaijin
trickery is this?” He pointed his yumi into the room, but there were only shadows. “Fetch a lantern.”

Flickering light filled the newly revealed chamber. There was something odd hanging from chains attached to the ceiling. The mysteri
ous device’s surface was gray and porous of texture. It was an oddly curled bone, only it was as big as an ox, and standing next to it was one of the red painted priests wearing only a tiger pelt. He began gibbering furiously in their strange language when he saw the samurai approaching.

“You’d best shoot him quickly. He says that if we come any closer he will unleash the monster and send it against our home island,” Saburo whispered.

“Good.” Munetaka made an exaggerated show of gradually drawing back his bow. “Let him.”

The priest rushed and pressed his mouth to the bone. Air resonated through a maze of chambers. A deep, eerie rumble filled the temple. The sound seemed to grow and grow. The hair stood up on his neck. It was a long alien wail that shook all the warriors to their bones.

Munetaka could have killed the priest immediately, but let the monster come. That took care of finding it. The priest looked up, triumphant, but seemed a bit surprised when Munetaka showed absolutely no fear. Realization dawned that the samurai wanted the beast exposed. Only then did Munetaka drill him through the heart.

The assembled ronin stared at the body for a moment, unsure what their captain had just allowed to happen.

Munetaka took a flask from his pocket and took a long drink.
There was no turning back now.
“Take the horn back to the ship. Have the priest cleanse this
gaijin
filth from us.” He began walking away. “It’s time to go home.”

~

Ten days ago, his clan had learned the truth.

The crew of the
Friendly Traveler
had seen the smoke rising over the horizon hours before they’d seen land. There were bloated corpses floating on the surface as they approached the harbor. After such a long journey it had not been the joyous homecoming most of them had been hoping for.

There had been a town here once. Now it was nothing but a ruin. Buildings had been crushed. Fires had caught and spread out of control, consuming everything. There had only been a small castle, but it had been smashed to pieces and spread across the rocky shore. There were bodies everywhere. Peasants were trying to pull survivors from the rubble.

Two men stood at the rail, watching the dead float by

“Is this what you wanted, Captain?” Saburo asked.

“No…” There were children crying in the streets.

But now they understand.

His crew was shocked by the carnage. They were hard men, but it was hard to comprehend destruction on this scale. He’d warned them... “Take us in. I want to find out what direction it went.”

The docks were gone. Several masts sticking out of the water explained the fate of most of the ships stationed here. One warship had been picked up and hurled three hundred paces inland, and half of it was sticking out the side of an inn. There were other warships still in one piece, but they had most likely arrived after the Great Sea Beast had left. They had been gone so long, and there had been a clan war going on when they’d left, so Munetaka wasn’t sure who would be in charge when they got back, and he was too pragmatic to risk flying his clan’s flag. When he saw that the other warships were Minamoto he ordered their own flag raised.

The crew of the Minamoto warships were so stunned that they barely noticed the arrival of the
Friendly Traveler.
Munetaka hailed them, answered several angry challenges, and was then allowed to come alongside a much larger, newer warship. Ropes were hurled back and forth, and the
Friendly Traveler
was hauled in close, partially so they could communicate more easily, but more likely because they looked like pirates and the clan was not about to let them escape.

There were shouts as they drew closer, warnings that the harbor was treacherous with sunken ships that could damage their hull and questions about if they too had seen the giant crimson demon, which was half the size of a mountain.

Munetaka was surprised to see the personal mon of the Minamoto daimyo on the guard’s armor. Lord Minamoto Yoritomo himself—the successor of the man who shamed him—approached the rail. The entire crew bowed… Except for Munetaka.

“What’re you doing?” Saburo hissed. “Are you drunk?”

“Only a little,” Munetaka answered.

The Lord’s eyes narrowed dangerously at this sleight. Dozens of Minamoto soldiers nocked arrows, waiting the order to execute the impudent captain. “Who are you?”

“I am Captain Nasu Munetaka, son of Captain Nasu Tadamichi. Twelve years ago the Great Sea Beast killed my father and sank his ship. I alone survived. I saw this monster, and I told the truth. I intended to hunt it down and send it back to Jigoku. Your predecessor called me a liar and a fool. He mocked me and dishonored my father. He declared this monster a myth.” Munetaka pointed toward land. All eyes followed.

There was a giant footprint, shaped like that of a lizard, only as wide as the Lord’s warship and pressed deep enough into the sand to fit a house.

“Do you believe me now?”

~

His entire life had come down to this moment.

The sea outside Kamakura was red with blood and lit by burning wreckage. The air was choked with smoke and the screams of the injured. The Great Sea Beast’s arms were humanoid, only its hands ended in three webbed fingers, and it was swatting boats from the ocean like a child in a bath tub. Hundreds of arrows were lodged in its hide. It had been struck by balls of flaming pitch from the warships and the whaling harpoons of desperate sailors, yet it showed no sign of slowing.

A Minamoto warship rammed straight into the monster’s stomach. The flesh dimpled as the bow gave, but it did not pierce the ancient flesh. The Great Sea Beast let out an ear splitting roar, scooped the warship up and hurled it inland. The tiny dots spinning off of it were sailors and samurai. The ship landed on the rocks and exploded into a million pieces.

“Saburo!”

The scribe ran to him. “Yes, Captain?”