The War of Fire & Thunder, Part 1

By Shawn Carman
Editing & Assistance by Fred Wan

The Islands of Silk and Spice, three weeks ago
The day was picturesque. The sea breeze was light and invigorating. The sound of the breakers crashing onto the rocks on the shore far beneath the cliff was mixed only with the distant calls of jungle birds. The looming stone edifice near the cliffs bore the familiar, serene atmosphere of a monastery, one of only a handful scattered throughout the Mantis islands. Those gathered at the torii arch overlooking the ocean maintained a respectful silence, not only for those studying within the monastery, but out of respect for the solemn ceremony they were about to witness.

Yoritomo Kumiko closed her eyes for a moment and let the breeze wash over her. It was so familiar, like a lover’s embrace. She turned to those awaiting her with a smile. “I was born and raised in this monastery,” she said. “My father hid me here after my mother’s death, knowing full well that the challenges the Mantis Clan would face could not be dealt with unless I learned to control the stain upon my soul that my mother unwillingly left me. It was a difficult decision, but one that my father made for the good of his people, the Mantis.”

“All glory to Yoritomo-sama,” the assembled Mantis chanted.

“After my father’s death, my brother ruled the clan, wisely and well. There are those that would say that Yoritomo Aramasu was born a Scorpion and that he could never change.” Kumiko smiled wryly at the thought. “Those who say such things are fools. My brother waged a war endorsed by the first Toturi, the Splendid Emperor. That the other clans know nothing of this means only that the Emperor did not need them. Aramasu and his loyal forces were enough to protect the entire Empire from the threat of the Ivory Kingdoms.”

“All glory to Aramasu-sama,” the Mantis chanted.

Kumiko regarded the others with a defiant air. “The Empire has changed. We have changed. The monastery where I once dwelled is now the home of the Bat Clan. Guided by my father’s spirit, I have put aside the corruption that I was born with, and cast down the traitor Kitao. The world changes around us, but the other clans fear it. Only the Mantis are strong enough to embrace the change and grow! Only the Mantis can endure the storm and emerge all the stronger for it!”

“All glory to the Mantis!” the assembled samurai shouted.

Kumiko’s grin was infectious. “And now, as the world changes around us, we change as well. Our strength, our power, is in our adaptability, for it is the one thing we possess that our enemies, even our allies, shall never have.” She turned to the man kneeling silently before her. “You have stood among us for a long time. You have earned the right to serve and die for your Champion and your clan. Know that in answering the question I will pose to you know, your life is no longer your own. Do you accept the burden and glory of a life of service, knowing full well what is demanded of you?”

The man raised his head. His skin was a different hue, and his eyes strangely round. A cloth wrap sat atop his head, adorned with a single netsuke that displayed the Mantis mon. His thin moustache was precisely trimmed. “I do,” he said.

Kumiko nodded. “Singh, formerly of the Rama, I offer you fealty to serve me and the Mantis Clan from this day until the day you die. Will you join us?”

“I will,” the man’s voice was almost a whisper, reverent in its tone.

“Rise, Yoritomo Singh,” Kumiko said. She took a pair of pristine blades offered by a subordinate. One was the wakizashi, the symbol of a samurai’s station. The other was a strange gaijin blade like the one Singh had carried before, but adorned now with the Mantis symbol. “Accept this blade, and with it the responsibility of using it in the name of Yoritomo.”

“Thank you, Daughter of Storms,” Singh said with a bow. He turned to the others, still gazing at the incredible craftsmanship of his blade. He looked up at the other Mantis, a gleam in his eye. He held his blade aloft. “Yoritomo!” he screamed.

“Yoritomo!” the others answered, their shouts echoing across the cliffs.

Yoritomo Naizen overlooked the ocean with an expression of vague discontent. Ships were preparing to depart on the cliffs below, but it would be some time before his private ship was restocked. And so he waited.

“Naizen-sama.”

The general turned and offered a respectful nod to his new gaijin kinsman. “Congratulations, Singh,” he said with a slight smile. “It will be advantageous to have you at our side in future battles.”

“I sincerely hope so,” Singh said. “It would be a disgrace not to contribute all that I can to the Mantis, after you have done so much for me.”

Naizen waved the comments away. “Kumiko-sama would never have offered you fealty if she did not believe you could benefit our family and clan. I do not question that you will serve your purpose in time.”

Singh smiled and inclined his head in thanks. “Tell me of the war, please.”

Naizen raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Kumiko-sama has never spoken to me of the war in more than broad generalizations,” Singh explained. “She told me that, when I had given her my oath, that I could know all I wished of the war. There is no one who knows more than you.” He paused for a moment. “It is not that I am not grateful to have you attend my oath of fealty, Naizen-sama, but how is it that the general of the Mantis armies made time for such a thing? Are you not needed at the front lines?”

“There are no front lines,” Naizen said with an air of distaste. “We control the seas, and have seized a number of small islands off the Phoenix coast. We have sent numerous attacks into the Agasha lands, but typically withdraw before any significant engagements. We have struck many villages and small towns, scattering the Phoenix logistics in the area and making supply lines nigh impossible to maintain. Beyond that, we have heavy scouting and ambush parties in the region, and can control large areas of land for weeks at a time without contributing large numbers of troops.”

Singh nodded. “It seems a prudent means of waging war.”

Naizen frowned. “Prudent is one word,” he admitted. “Overly cautious might be another.”

“Overly cautious?” Singh asked.

Naizen hesitated. “If the truth be told, I long to lead an army into battle,” he admitted after a moment. “I long to test my command against an equal, and find victory on the field of battle. I have studied every moment of Yoritomo’s siege against the Phoenix, and his battle with the Crane. I know the details of every great battle fought in the past century, and I can name the generals of every standing army currently maintained in Rokugan. Yet I fear I shall never lead men in the way that the Son of Storms once did.” He shook his head.

Singh seemed cautious. “Is it glory you seek, then?”

Naizen smiled. “No. I do not shy away from glory, but that is not my goal. I wish only to make the Empire fear the name Yoritomo, as they once did. I want to remind them that beyond their warm and cozy homes, a hurricane awaits in the seas of Rokugan.”

The gaijin nodded in agreement. “Do you believe you will have that chance?”

“I do not know,” Naizen admitted. “This war is unlike any the Mantis have ever fought. Attacking an enemy with such a sheer advantage in magical prowess from the sea… it seems unlikely. I made the attempt once before, early in the conflict.”

“What happened?”

Naizen’s air of disgust was palpable. “A fluke,” he said. “Two of the Crane Keepers overcame their challenges in the form of thwarting our advance. A heartwarming tale, to be sure, unless one considers that in doing so they thwarted my chance to avenge a terrible dishonor done to my clan.”

“I have heard the stories,” Singh admitted. “It seems you have been painted the villain.”

“Villain,” Naizen snorted derisively. “I care nothing for labels. They may call me anything they wish. But when my day comes, they will fear me. And they will fear the Mantis.” He turned to regard Singh with a fierce, piercing glare. “I will not allow the name of the Mantis Clan to be slandered again,” he said.

Singh inclined his head. “My blade is yours, Naizen-sama.”

Naizen only nodded. “I will remember.”

Kyuden Gotei, ten days ago
Kumiko’s bright laughter rang out through the halls of the palace, eliciting further laughter from those who heard it. Few could help but find their mood changing to match hers. The name Daughter of Storms suited her well, and the sheer force of her charisma was such that none could help but feel themselves drawn in to whatever she was doing. “What happened after that, Singh?” she asked.

The gaijin shrugged slightly. “He was executed of course. Being found in such a… compromising position was a clear indicator of his deviance. The warrior caste of my people does not allow for such proclivities.”

Kumiko laughed again and poured another cup of sake. “I hope that when Kekiasu returns she will have as many entertaining stories as you, Singh.”

“She will be changed by the experience, that much is certain,” the gaijin said.

Kumiko smiled slightly as she raised the cup to her lips, but said nothing. She had not yet put the cup back down when a messenger entered the chamber. The young woman bowed sharply and then approached at Kumiko’s signal. She whispered something into the Champion’s ear. “Excuse me, please,” Kumiko said to those at the table. “A message has arrived from Kaigen, and I must hear it.” As the other rose and exited the chamber, she lifted a hand. “You may remain, Singh.”

The gaijin looked surprised for a moment, but bowed his head in his peculiar fashion and retreated a polite distance to listen. After only a moment, a young woman with a painted face and swirling robes of red and green entered. She bowed quickly. “Greetings, Daughter of Storms.”

Kumiko nodded. “You are Moshi Sayoko of Tempest Island, correct?”

“Yes,” Sayoko said. “I am honored that you remember, my lady.”

“Only a fool does not learn her assets,” Kumiko said. “What have you come to tell me?”

“Kaigen-sensei has sent me to give you a full accounting of our progress,” Sayoko said. “He and Naizen control a small chain of islands off the Phoenix coast, the largest no more than a mile across at its widest point. Kaigen has constructed a command post and stages the attacks on the mainland from here, while Naizen uses the islands for cover when his ships are not in use. Moshi Amika-sama has coordinated the re-supply efforts, and as yet the attacking forces lack little in the way of supplies.”

“Very well,” Kumiko said. “You did not come all this way for a status update.”

“No, my lady,” Sayoko agreed. “Many of Naizen-sama’s scout commanders have been pushed back toward the coastline. They have gathered information regarding the assembled Shiba and Agasha forces, and all reports seem to indicate that the Phoenix defenders are not exhausting themselves as rapidly as initial estimates had hoped. Kaigen-sama fears that if the war continues at its current pace, it will be at least six months before hostilities between the Phoenix families reach the level your initial battle plan anticipated.”

Kumiko frowned. “Unpleasant, but not insurmountable. Why is this an issue of concern?”

Sayoko looked somewhat uncomfortable. “Kaigen-sama has noted some… irregularities among his Storm Riders, my lady.”

“Explain,” Kumiko said flatly, her eyes narrow.

Sayoko licked her lips. “The climate in the Phoenix seas is considerably different that the territory the Mantis control,” she said. “Kaigen-sama has noticed that the orochi who serve alongside the Storm Riders are moving sluggishly. He fears that it may be a result of the colder weather, which the serpents may not have experienced in their home realm. Other serpents do not react well to the cold, and there are no known reports of orochi sightings in the Phoenix seas, historically.”

“Orochi sightings are hardly a common occurrence,” Kumiko mused. “Until recently, of course.”

“You are of course correct,” Sayoko continued. “However, most clans that possess a coastline among their provinces have at least one such instance somewhere during their history. The Phoenix have none.”

Kumiko stood suddenly and paced the room, her face a mask of contemplation. “So you are suggesting that Kaigen believes the winter will have an adverse effect on the orochi?”
“There is no way to be certain,” Sayoko said, “but Kaigen-sama believes it is a possibility, and dispatched me to warn you immediately.”

Kumiko swore violently. “How was this not anticipated?”

Sayoko shook her head. “The orochi are so magnificent, so powerful… it simply did not occur to anyone that the cold might make them sluggish. How could temperature so easily affect such incredible creatures?”

“It seems to have done so all the same!” Kumiko said with a snarl. “Return to Kaigen immediately. Tell him that I will arrive shortly.” She turned to Singh. “It is time, my friend, that you became acquainted with how a samurai wages war against his enemies.”

“I would be honored, my lady,” Singh said with a bow.

Kumiko shouted for a messenger, and one materialized in the doorway even as Sayoko disappeared through it. “Send word to the docks. I wish my personal vessels prepared, and the entire fleet ready to sail within three days. All but the minimum defensive force are to be ready to leave upon my command.” The messenger bowed and vanished out the doorway.

The Daughter of Storms took up the bottle of sake she had been pouring previously and downed it in one smooth motion. “If I cannot turn the Phoenix against one another,” she said with a baleful smile, “then I will simply destroy them myself.”

The Agasha provinces, four days ago
The Phoenix patrol continued their approach. They were cautious, and from the way they positioned themselves, they were experienced soldiers. Their leader in particular had the look of a man who knew how to kill, and was good at it. Tsuruchi Masanori remained completely motionless in his place of concealment. In the midst of the Phoenix, a man wearing the trappings of a shugenja walked with an unconcerned manner. His expression made it clear that he was eager for battle, and that made him all the more dangerous. Masanori hoped that his men across the clearing were ready and paying careful attention. If their gambit was unsuccessful, this engagement would end disastrously.

Masanori need not have worried, however. When the Phoenix were positioned precisely between the two groups, the sound of loose gravel came from the location where Yoritomo Tokaro was hidden with his partner. As expected, the Phoenix instantly assumed a defensive position, and the Shiba gunso sent one of his men to investigate.
The Shiba moved much quicker than anticipated, however, and leapt over the rocks where Tokaro was hidden. There was the sound of steel on steel, and Masanori nodded to the others hidden with him.

Something alerted the Phoenix gunso. There was no sound from Masanori’s men, so he could not imagine what could have alerted the man to their presence other than the damnable intuition so many experienced Shiba seemed to possess. The gunso fired an arrow from the hip, a flawless technique relying on the man’s instincts and reflexes more than any conscious attempt to aim.

It struck Tsuruchi Dokuo on Masanori’s right, who fell to the ground with a gurgling rattle. Masanori knew he was dead. Another struck Masanori’s shoulder. He hissed in pain but continued without stopping.

“Fire!” Masanori shouted. A volley of arrows leapt across the way and cut down several of the Phoenix even as a half dozen Yoritomo roared their feral cry and charged across the clearing toward the Phoenix. Archery fire was brisk, with several falling on each side. “The priest!” Masanori shouted. “Take the priest!”

The shugenja was obviously summoning some manner of spell, as a ball of fire began forming between his hands. His expression was a mixture of delight and fury, and Masanori knew that if he could, the shugenja would kill every one of his men. “Now!” he shouted, drawing an arrow of his own and ignoring the heavy fire from the Shiba commander.

Masanori fired, as did two more of his scouts. Three arrows sprouted from the shugenja in rapid succession. The man released a gurgled cry of frustration and fell to the ground, his life’s blood spilling onto the rocky soil. The ball of fire began to swell and deform. “Back!” Masanori shouted, knowing full well it was too late for his Yoritomo marines to get out of range. He turned and grabbed one of his scouts by the shoulder and threw himself to the ground.

There was a great wooshing sound as the fire washed over the area, narrowly missing the Tsuruchi scouts as it consumed Mantis and Phoenix alike. There was barely a moment after its dissipation before Masanori was on his feet. “Check for survivors!” he shouted. “Gather our dead! That will bring the Phoenix, and quickly!”

Masanori cursed. His men were good soldiers. They deserved a better death than this. In war, however, his experience was that there were far more dead than there were good deaths to be had.

The northern Agasha coastline, today
Kumiko stood on the prow of her personal flagship, one food propped atop the railing, kama held at the side. She could not suppress a wild grin as she felt the cool northern sea breeze through her hair. It was at times exactly like this that she felt closest to her father. Today she would crush her enemies and shout her family’s name so loudly that perhaps great Yoritomo himself would hear and smile down upon her from Yomi.

“Kumiko-sama.”

Kumiko turned to face her general. “Yes?”

Naizen’s face was grim. “Chae has provided a report from her scouting patrols. They indicate that the Shiba armies are moving to intercept our course. They will arrive quite soon, perhaps only moments after our landfall. We will not have the time to establish a beachhead that we expected.”

Kumiko nodded at the news. “How did they anticipate our arrival? Have they intercepted any of our forces who might have known details regarding our approach?”

“No, my lady,” Naizen answered. “Few are aware of the details, and all those who do are accounted for.”

“Interesting,” Kumiko said. Her grin returned. “Perhaps our friends the Shiba will provide a more entertaining diversion than I anticipated.”

Naizen frowned and began to speak, but was interrupted by a massive spray of water from over the port side of the ship. There was a brief flash of scaled green flesh, as large as a wall and faster than a spring breeze, and then the creature was gone again. A column of water lifted a green-clad shugenja over the ship’s railing and onto the deck. “Kumiko-sama,” he said with a bow. “Naizen-sama.”

“What is it, Kaigen?” Kumiko asked. “Is something amiss?”

“That depends upon your point of view,” Kaigen said. He gestured to the distance over the mainland. Storm clouds were drifting farther inland, although it seemed that they would dissipate before any storm would come. As the three Mantis watched, there was a brilliant flash within the clouds, and a massive strike of lightning arced precisely downward to crash into the ground somewhere beyond the shore.

“Which means what?” Naizen demanded.

“The Council,” Kaigen answered flatly. “The Masters have arrived.”

Kumiko’s face was a mask of joy and fury. “At last,” she whispered. “Now, we shall end this war, and be remembered forever.”

The Daughter of Storm’s battle cry rang out across the fleet of kobune, answered a thousand times over by the bloodthirsty shouts of her kinsmen. None shouted the name of Yoritomo more loudly than her general Naizen and her favored sensei Kaigen.