Passing the gate had felt like being toyed with.

Like a malign unseen intelligence had plucked each of his limbs, prodded his organs, stitched him back together in every possible configuration – all without pain, as though soul had been sheared from body and was kept chained somewhere in the formless here-always, powerless and lost, gibbering. Next came the interior prodding, a place deep and sacred, things had been stolen from this place, discrete things he had only been dimly aware of. Memories, sensations – the taste of sprig tea from home, what did that taste like? What had Mother said when he broke his ribs climbing that tree? It had been funny, hadn't it?

Aki had been changed in the passing, though he was unsure how.

Nightmares were common this side of the portal, each man sharing the same visions of a large, slender, humanoid figure shadowed in a cave. It mewled like a baby, hands curled around its legs. It would pluck other man shapes at its feet, examine them, throw them, eat them. It formed and mumbled half words, stitching together nonsensical sentences, emphasizing the wrong syllable in unsettling fluctuating tones. kEttle fIeld, tenTSPear wALL walk stop sleep cant homehomehomehome.

After the second night these dreams were forbidden to talk about. They eroded morale.

There had been no attack as yet, not even a sighting of the enemy. Four teams of scouts on horseback had been sent in every cardinal direction, or what was presumed to be, compasses did not work here, the sun never moved, never set. These teams each had a learned cartographer with them and Aki was very eager for their return. He had just awoken, that same dream still fluttering behind his eyes. Wiping sweat from his face he was glad for all the extra articles from home that decorated his tent, were this any normal campaign he would have left that ornate chest behind, those chairs, all the folding screens with masterful depictions of comforting familiar natural scenery. Now they were a solid reminder of reality and valuable at that. He shivered as the temperature once again suddenly dipped, wrapped his robes around himself tightly.

Outside his tent he took no pleasure in the orderly rows of tents, in the uniform distance and height of the sturdy palisade, of the appropriate watch on each of the two dozen towers. It was among the finest camps he had ever saw, but the alien sun casting an eerie bright red glow, the rusty alien soil, the way the mountain range in the distance, a dim dull red, seemed to change shape whenever one looked away, unnerved him. Squinting now he could just make out what could possibly be the contour of the Imperial Palace in those distant peaks.

“Don't” Tomoni had said the night of departure, eyes full of command, and then sensing Aki's resolve, pleading. Aki shook his head, he raised his marshals fan, and the regiment set out. She had caught his arm, she leaned in close, and in a hurried whisper recited: “Absolute his Pride, ruin wrought the veil shorn wide, one thousand dark days, follow our dear Fujin's heels, our tears form the crystal lake, whence we brought the end of days.” She made no performance, her voice was dead, flat, serious. “It's the second verse of Tsukyomi's poem. I should not have to explain the significance, hold off, please.”

Aki set his jaw firm, and from his wounded lopsided face spoke. “We can discuss ancient poetry on my return, Dear Diviner.”

Pride, he tried to shrug the word off, to attend to pressing matters of the here and now, but it came back, like a wave, like the ocean, unrelenting. Yes he was full of it. He was full of it when as a youth of sixteen seasons he challenged a full bonded warrior to a duel in the market, so brazen this insult that the man had but no choice to accept. He was full of it when he lead the now Emperors left flank in the battle that had decided, finally, who had mastery of the home isle. He was so very full of it now, having lead some two thousand souls into this bleak and unfamiliar place.

He had thought he was prepared.

Interviews with every surviving expedition had told him what to expect. There was an unease on the otherside. The things were largely unseen, that each and every captain of said expeditions put his men to gathering the red stones and left as quickly as possible. That there had been eyes in the sky, unseen, boring holes into their backs. That they felt altered on returning, that they had trouble sleeping to the day. Provisions had been accrued that would last a year of hard campaigning in hostile territory. The best and brightest had been gathered, strategists, arms men, officers – each passing a personal examination, each dedicated, unerring, aware of the scope of the threat and the unknown nature of their enemy. Even the new and unfamiliar weapons had been brought, the cannons and the match sticks. With this highly sharpened blade Aki would have once thought he could turn any threat.

Now he was not so sure.

He stood on the raised section of earth in the centre of camp on which his tent had been erected, looking out at that distant mountain range. In every other direction there was nothing but a flat plain of red soil. Behind and below twin pillars of stone had been erected to indicate the dimensions of the gate, otherwise the air there looked no different from anywhere else. Even now on this fourth day of the expedition men and material streamed through, suddenly being there with no flash or pomp, who split themselves in perfect order and deposited their burdens in the appropriate stockpile. Little mountains of water stacked in barrels, bags of rice so high and numerous they could have been used to form the walls of a small town, arrows, whetstones, that alchemical mix that permitted the cannon and match sticks to do their thunderous work. Ink, brushes, stone, wood both for fire and construction. Feed for the stable of horses, who snorted and trotted nervously at all hours. Nothing had been overlooked. He was as prepared as he could be and he still felt naked, on his little hill.

“General,” came a soft and reverential voice. Aki turned to see Nakano in his gold and black armor, helmet tucked into the crook of his arm, wearing a white head band with black careful script which read spirit, dedication, and ward. He had not struck Aki as a particularly superstitious man, but this place could make even the most material of men into believers of spells and wards. Aki himself, he was pressed to admit, would have felt a touch more comforted for a headband of his own.

“The Officers have gathered,” Nakano bowed so respectfully Aki could only see the dark top knot of his head.

“I will be there shortly,” Aki said and Nakano shuffled almost imperceptibly.

“If you have something to say, speak Lieutenant.”

“You have forbidden that which I would speak of, General.”

The dream. A stratagem of the enemy, no more. A wise General wins before he sets foot on the battle field. Aki tried to convince himself of this.

“Consider that rescinded, for the moment. Speak, plainly.”

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“I saw my face, General. I saw it was me in the cave,” Nakano spoke from his bow, he did not move. There was no wind here, there had been no wind here in four days, to stir even his hair.

“A trick, of our enemy or your own mind, Nakano,” Aki said and stepped towards the young lieutenant. The man tensed, Aki placed a hand on his shoulder. “Have you been on campaign?”

“No, General. I am just now raised to Lieutenant.”

“Your studies are fresh then. Look up, look around, what do you see?”

Nakano scanned the empty plains, “Nothing, General.”

“And what does that mean?”

“We will see them coming.”

Aki nodded. “For miles. Tell me, if our camp were to come under attack, where would you place our artillery?”

Nakano hesitated. “Here General, on this hill. I would point them at the palisade gate, I would clear the screens for your tent, so the cannons can be moved to where they are needed most.”

Aki stroked his long and slender beard, smiling, aware of the offence a suggestion of invading his space could engender. “A good decision. However these cannons, I hear, are not so accurate – do you think they could be relied upon to hit a target of the distance you propose, without cutting through our own men?”

“I am... unsure General. I have not seen them in use.”

“Good, it is good for a leader to doubt. Inside. Outside he is resolute. I have seen them demonstrated, they can hammer a sufficiently tall wall, and they can remove the legs of a dozen ranks of men – they are loud, noisy things that rob us the elegance of our trade – and they cannot be relied upon to hit the same spot twice at two hundred yards. With this then, where would you place our artillery?”

The Lieutenant thought for a moment, his eyes traced the dimensions of the fort, the long road leading to the gate, the orderly lanes arrayed in a grid, a central square. He squinted. “Four I would align towards the gate, there near the square. Two I would place up here. I... I would have the gate opened, I would invite our enemy inside.”

Aki grinned, slapped his subordinate on the back. “A marvellous idea, you will see to it on my authority. Go now, give me a moment longer.”

Nakano's back was a little straighter, his expression a little less worried. It would do him well to have his mind on actionable matters, and not the terrors behind sleep. His plan, Aki was pleased to hear, was more or less Aki's own, with the addition of separating the battery and placing two cannons up on the hill. The distance was sound, if the enemy reached near about three quarters of the central path, they could be fired on without much risk. Perhaps a shelf could be dug into the hill, stakes raised, the bulk of the matchsticks behind...

It would depend on the enemy, would they behave at all like a human? Could they be enticed into a trap? What to use as bait? In years past he had used himself to lure a foe into just such a position as Nakano proposed. A feigned charge all gallant with his personal troop, careful play acting there after, pretend confusion, the appearance of a rout, of a fool hardy young captain suddenly realizing he no longer wished to die like all the warriors in all the gloriously grim stories. A chase, a victory.

But these things were new, they would need to be studied, best to meet them in the field where manoeuvre was possible, to probe and prod. The brief stillness that contemplation of tactics brought his mind evaporated. There were too many unknowns.

Inside the command tent all the senior leadership had gathered. Red stone would not cast light here, and so the shaded tent was illuminated with candles. Everyone sat on the carpet in a circle, speaking in hushed tones. All eyes went to Aki when he entered, they bowed, he acknowledged and took his seat on the simple folding stool.

“Where are my scouts?” He asked simply, meeting eyes in turn. They all glanced away.

“A sentry reports hearing a final whistle arrow shortly before last call to rest,” a weathered looking officer said.

“So they're dead,” replied another.

“We cannot presume that. We know from expedition records that distance here is hard to judge, perhaps they are only delayed.”

“I know Gaki personally, he is not a man to lose himself, I fear the worst.”

“This is not our principle concern,” Okamura said. He was the only in attendance not wearing a stitch of armor aside from Aki. One of Zinon's cronies, foisted on the expedition last moment. His robes were silk, the triple petal flower emblem stitched proud on shoulder, back, and chest. Aki glared, Okamura ignored this. “Our purpose here is not conquest, it is industry. It is providing the fuel necessary to maintain an Empire that stretches across oceans. I need not remind you, you are all practical men.”

“Your Master's factories will be fed, as soon as I have determined it is safe. All the proper red stone nearby has been gathered I have been told, we will need to go further than before. Or are your surveyors incompetent? I for one cannot tell the difference in value between one red rock and another, so I cannot say,” Aki shrugged..

Okamura scowled. “They know their business. It is hard for... simple men to glean, but there is a pattern in the grain of the stone. Permit us a company of men, no more, to gather. A show of good faith. Your preparations for this expedition has stopped the flow of goods for a week now, General. We would all like to see some progress.”

Aki bit his tongue, though he did not need to. Everyone in the room was a military man. Everyone respected him, barring Okamura. Aki could kill him on the spot and there would be no questions. Surely the industrialist toady was aware of this, and therefore not without his own courage.

A lamb brave enough to walk into a den of tigers is, however, still a lamb. Aki smiled after a long silence, enjoyed the bead of sweat on Okamura's brow. Temperature this side of the gate fluctuated with no discernible reason, it was either dreadful hot, or freezing cold. In the tent just then it had become cold as sudden as it had been hot.

“A dozen men to guard, no more, and whatever of your people you wish to take,” Aki's breath made clouds.

Okamura looked relieved.

“You will accompany them. They will need to be sure of this grain you speak of, I will not trust any one else to seek it.”

The Official's lip trembled, he glanced for a way out, and in the end lowered his head.

Satisfied with his rebuke Aki opened his mouth to propose a more methodical approach to scouting when the clatter of a lowly foot soldiers armour could be heard outside the tent. The man burst in, stood in shock one brief moment, and then bowed with his forehead pressed to the floor, holding the handle of his sword and shaking.

“Esteemed General, Master's, I have been sent from the gate!” The soldier panted, voice strained. An audience with men so above ones station as footman to general could unnerve a man as easily as stepping through a portal into the hostile unknown.

“Speak,” Aki said, his tone was level, moderate, authority primed but not overbearing, he wanted to put the man at ease. He would be more lucid with his message if he was not worried about his own neck.

The man somehow made himself even closer to the floor of the tent. “One of the scout's horses, Grand General, has returned!”

“Just the horse, no rider?”

“No Eminence, just the horse! I was instructed to bring you at once!”

**

The horse was wild eyed and foaming at the mouth, its immense chest heaved, it kicked and fought the handlers desperate to bring it under control. It favoured one of its fore legs. A crowd had gathered just inside of the gate around the animal, men on the nearest tower leaned over, adjusting their helmets to get a better look. The timber of the palisade and piled grey stone of the base contrasted with the red of all the earth here. The horse caught a handler with a kick, the handlers neck snapped as he sagged to the dirt. They could not get it inside the roughshod stable.

Aki moved as close as he dared, saw streaks of blood on the brown hair. Saw that the steed would never be useful again. He raised a hand to a few men nearby in full kit, spears planted butt end into the ground and with a glance and gesture ordered them to skewer the animal. They had to stab four times, by this last fourth it had stopped braying, and collapsed, both men heaving into their spear shafts. The crowd murmured, hesitant in the presence of their leadership.

Okamura was pale. He read the implications. The other officers were stony faced.

Aki knelt down, opened the saddle bag and unfurled the bamboo slat. Pleased that this horse of all had managed to make it back, it would have been the leaders. The man tasked to compile written records of his search. There were only four characters, roughly scribbled:

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

We are followed.