The War of Dark Fire, Part 16

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

The Lion troops stretched out nearly as far as the eye could see along the edges of the Dragon Heart Plain. It was something of an illiusion, of course; Akodo Shigetoshi had ordered the units to stand farther apart than normal in order to increase their ability to move in multiple directions at once on short notice. It was impressive to look upon all the same, and one of the most inspiring things that Ikoma Otemi had ever seen. He had been many things in his lifetime, and seen many glories, but none were greater than the Lion Clan as it readied for battle.

The Lion Clan Champion rode up beside Otemi and surveyed the formations, nodding in approval. “A glorious sight,” he said, mirroring the other man’s thoughts. “Have the Crab gone?”

Otemi nodded. “Hikita went to assume command of the combined forces, as per Benjiro’s orders.”

Shigetoshi frowned slightly. “I would prefer to have Benjiro present, I think. He is a worthy ally. What do you know of this Hikita?”

“Easily one of the most unpleasant men I have ever known,” Otemi answered at once. “But he is a seasoned veteran of countless battles, and his tactical knowledge is sound. His men may not like him, but he will lead them to victory.”

The Champion nodded slowly, almost grudgingly. “If that is your assessment of him, then I trust it. It seems a shame to lose Benjiro to such a dangerous gambit, however.”

“You do not believe it will succeed, then?” Otemi asked.

“I am not certain,” Shigetoshi said. “However, I feel strongly that it should not be attempted at all. Victory should be achieved on the field of battle, not through subterfuge.”

Otemi considered it for a moment. “It could be generously described as a feint,” he said after some thought. “To call it subterfuge seems somewhat uncharitable. It is not inherently deceitful, I think. Merely… questionable.”

“If I have any influence on the matter, the plan will never have the opportunity to be enacted. I do not intend to allow the Yobanjin to leave this plain alive.”

Otemi smiled. “With the Crab coming from the west and the Lion from the south, I imagine there will be little opportunity for escape.”

“The Dragon from the north as well,” Shigetoshi said. “And the Phoenix from the east. Plus the Shogun’s forces are said to be arriving within a few hours. Doubtless the battle will still be raging.”

“The Dragon and Phoenix?” Otemi was incredulous. “They have suffered so much. Why commit to such a battle?”

“Their honor demands vengeance for their losses,” Shigetoshi answered. “And I intend to assist them in settling their debt of honor on a grand scale.”

* * *

One week previously, at Kyuden Bayushi

Elsewhere in the castle, the multitude of attendants at the Winter Court of the Divine Empress were engaged in a number of contests, discussions, and elaborate distractions, all designed to draw their attention away from the fact that a small number of extremely influential delegates were missing. Those few men and women stood together in the center of the palace’s garden, discussing matters of great import. As he had feared, Doji Nagori had spent the last several moments watching the color of Kitsu Kiyoko’s face change slowly to something that might be best described as a deep crimson.

            “How dare you suggest such a thing?” she finally said in a low, menacing voice. She was glaring balefully at Yasuki Jinn-Kuen, the Crab representative, who had just finished outlining a plan he had to protect the Empress from attack by the Army of Fire. It was a difficult proposition, given the Empress’ intent to return to the Imperial City despite the massive conflict brewing only slightly north of there.

            Jinn-Kuen appeared completely unfazed by the young woman’s ire. “I dare because I believe the intent of our meeting was to determine how we could protect the Divine Empress from potential harm stemming from her actions. I did warn you that you would not care for it, if I recall.”

            “This is blasphemy,” Kiyoko insisted. “Treason at the very least!”

            “Do not be ridiculous,” Bayushi Paneki interjected smoothly. “No one is suggesting anything so drastic as treason. Treason would be to attempt to prevent the Empress from doing as she wishes, or disobeying her laws. Jinn-Kuen has suggested neither.”

            “I should not be surprised for a Scorpion to support such a notion,” Kiyoko said, her anger still evident. “It bears the characteristic Scorpion distrust of honorable means.”

            “Be careful that you recall in whose house you stand, little girl,” Paneki said calmly. “I will not forgive another such comment.”

            Kiyoko’s eyes blazed, but she said nothing.

            “Kiyoko-san,” Nagor interjected quietly. “No one here wishes to commit any act that could ever be considered treasonous. Surely you of all people must understand that. We have all stood in the presence of the Divine Empress, and basked in the light of her presence. She is and must remain the ruler of Rokugan. All we are discussing is how we can ensure that happens.” He paused for a moment, then nodded slowly. “I agree with Jinn-Kuen-san.”

            Kiyoko looked astonished. “How can you say that? How can you agree to this folly? The Empress is infallible! She is in no danger!”

            Nagori smiled sadly. “Every Emperor since the first Hantei has been infallible, according to our beliefs, and yet so many have perished by the hand of men. I do not believe that the Divine Empress can be mistaken, but nor do I wish to risk the intervention of gaijin in the Celestial Order.”

            “What you suggest,” Kiyoko said, shaking her head, “is unthinkable.”

            “I am not an old man,” Nagori said, “and already I have seen far too much of the unthinkable in my lifetime. I would not see it again.”

* * *

The battle had begun without the Phoenix.

Shiba Danjuro was as close to rage as he had ever been in his lifetime that he could recall. He looked back at the men under his command. They were clearly exhausted, and many of them had not eaten for at least a day or two. Their march across the Phoenix land had required them to investigate possible locations of an ambush, where the Yobanjin invaders might be concealing themselves until the Shiba forces passed them by. There had been no enemies laying in wait, but the sight of so many ruined and abandoned villages, shrines, and temples had been a terrible blow to the morale of his men. They had been fighting for months without complaint, and even now they offered none. They were simply exhausted, physically, mentally, and spiritually.

Danjuro could not blame them.

“Brothers,” he called to his men, sitting high on his horse. “Brothers, I know you are weary. I know this war has devastated our lands, our families, our very identity. The Phoenix are perhaps weaker now than they have ever been, and all because of the predations of these treacherous barbarians. Even now, the Crab and Lion stand against them, to keep them from pushing into the heart of the Empire. I am Phoenix, and I value life, but today I must take life in order to save the lives of thousands. I do so gladly, knowing that in the act, I bring peace to the countless Phoenix who have been murdered without cause.”

The men stirred, and Danjuro could see them rousing back to life even as he spoke. He drew his blade and pointed to the plains to the west. “The Shogun’s forces are somewhere behind the front line, surging forward to meet the battle. The Shogun is a lord whom I serve, and I know him well. When we ride into battle, our blades held high, our clan’s battle cry on our lips, he will hear! The Shogun will ride forward to meet us, and we will crush the enemy between us, ensuring peace and safety for an entire Empire! Who rides with me into battle today?”

The men roared, lifting their blades and naginatas high into the air.

“My life for the Shogun!” Danjuro shouted. “My soul for the Phoenix!”

Mirumoto Kei completed the final maneuver of her Dawn’s Light kata, an extended, graceful execution that she had always enjoyed in the dojo. To experience it on the battlefield, however, was something altogether different. Seven foes had met their deaths against her as she performed it, far more beautiful deaths than the animals deserved. She paused upon its completion to wipe a way an unsightly bit of ichor from her face, something that had splattered there during the fighting. When the battle was done, she would be purified. For now, she was a warrior, and warriors experienced such things without complaint. “Kenzo!” she shouted. “What is the status of the battle?”

Off to her left, the officer freed himself from his foes and glanced back toward the signalmen who constantly waved their small flags in rapid, complex patterns. “The Lion and Crab hold the line!” he shouted back. “The Phoenix arrive from the east, and the Shogun’s forces have been spied charging from the south! The Lion and Crab are preparing to part so that the Shogun’s cavalry charge can break the enemy’s front line!”

Kei frowned as she neatly scissored her blades, claiming the head of another enemy. “I will not see the Dragon marginalized in the battle to avenge our honor!” she shouted. “Kenzo, break this line!”

“Your command, my lady!” Kenzo shouldered his way through the Dragon front line and struggled to pass the heavy infantry. “Wotan!” he shouted. “Wotan!”

The elder shugenja’s hands were wreathed in flame, and he chuckled as he cast it in the direction of the enemy. Kenzo’s repeated shouting finally seemed to garner his attention, however, and he snarled as he turned. “What?” he demanded.

Kenzo’s eyes blazed. “Remember your place, old man,” he cautioned. “You are speaking to a superior officer.”

Wotan’s features twisted slightly, then relaxed. “Forgive me, shireikan,” he said. “The joy of battle sometimes… overwhelms me.”

The words caused a slight twinge through Kenzo’s hand and wrist where he held his blade, but he ignored it. “Break the line, Wotan. A rolling wave.”

A feral grin appeared on his features at once. “I live to serve,” he said, and closed his eyes. His lips moved slightly as he began praying.

“Monks!” Kenzo shouted. He turned to find two of them making their way through the ranks. “The time has come,” he said. “Are you sort above concepts like revenge or do you want the chance to make them pay for what they did to your home?”

“The High House of Light is just stone,” Togashi Matsuo said. “It can be rebuilt. The order survives, and that is all that matters.”

Kenzo’s eyes narrowed. “Can I trust you to do the job or not, monk?”

Matsuo met his gaze evenly. “I know my place in the universe now, commander. You need not fear for my motivations.”

“That will have to do,” Kenzo grumbled. “I know you are ready, Hogai.”

The mountain of ink-laden muscle known as Togashi Hogai cracked the muscles in his neck, causing a terrible sound. “My friend Vedau claimed sixty-four of their lives before they took his,” he rumbled. “I will kill three times that many in his memory.”

Matsuo regarded Hogai with a slight smile. “You should find your place in the universe as well, my friend. It would do you good.”

“Bah,” Hogai snorted. “My place is atop the shattered bones of my enemies.”

Kenzo left the two of them to discuss whatever it was they were discussing. He could hardly stand to hear the monks talk, honestly, but at least Hogai he could understand. After a few moments of maneuvering, he was back on the front line. “Lady Kei!” he shouted. “The wave comes in a moment!”

“Ready the charge!” Kei roared. “Polearms to the front!”

The heavy infantry bearing an assortment of reinforced spears and polearms formed a seamless line immediately behind Kei and Kenzo, who refused to step back from the front. The Yobanjin readied themselves and prepared to rush again against the Dragon line, obviously hoping to claim the lives of two of the army’s highest-ranking officers, but were distracted by the sudden darkness that fell over them.

A massive wave of earth, rolling like water, rose above the Dragon army and passed over them without harming them. As it descended toward the panicked Yobanjin front line, the dozen tattooed monks standing shoulder to shoulder atop the wave became visible, the glowing green power of their tattoos evident in the dim light.

The Brothers of Jade spared none of the Dark Oracle’s minions.

* * *

“Great one! The samurai are too many! We must fall back!”

The Son of Fire shattered the officer’s head with a single strike, scattering his gruesome remains across a twenty foot area with an almost absent-minded backhand. “Forward!” he snarled, ash and smoke on his breath. “Crush them! Forward! I will hold the heart of this Divine Empress in my hands!”

The Yobanjin obliged their master, pushing forward despite the seemingly invulnerable front lines of their foes. Their samurai opponents, however formidable, were only human after all, and the Son of Fire was something altogether different. The Son of Fire hefted a large, tetsubo-like weapon and snarled. “The moment the line is broken, we push for the Imperial City,” he barked to his lieutenants. “It is within sight! We will not fail!”

“Great one,” one of his officers said, raising his voice over the clamor.

“What?” the Son of Fire demanded, his hand twisting into a half-raised claw.

“The Dragon and Phoenix push against our rear flank. There is no effective line of retreat.”

“There will be no retreat!” the Son of Fire roared.

“There may be no need,” the officer continued quickly. “One of your shamans has received word from a concealed scouting patrol. Word of the Empress, master.”

“What?” the Son of Fire demanded, suddenly intent on the conversation. “What of the Empress?”

“Great one, the scouts report that a single legion of samurai is moving away from the Imperial City via the south. They have formed a protective formation around a palanquin. It is the same one that the Empress arrived at the Imperial City in, my lord.”

A horrific look of pleasure appeared on the Son of Fire’s features. “Summon all the shamans,” he said. “Ready my private guard.”

* * *

Asahina Hira stood on the wall surrounding Toshi Ranbo and listened to the distant sounds of battle. The war was raging well out of range for any threat by archers, of course, so the Keeper of the Void had ignored the protestations of others and come up to listen. His sight was long gone, but he remembered enough from his youth to easily imagine what must be taking place to accompany the sounds he was hearing. “Dreadful,” he murmured.

“Leave it to a Crane to find war dreadful,” a voice replied. “What else are samurai intended for if not war?”

Hira tilted his head to the side. “It is a simple matter to forget the many aspects of our status that are often overlooked, commander Omura. Piety, education, the pursuit of the arts… are these not the duties of a samurai as well?”

He could sense the frown from the Mantis commander, so recently promoted to the position as head of an Imperial Legion. Many found it disconcerting that he could recognize their voices even if he had never spoken to them. If they were blind, they would understand. “Perhaps they are,” Omura agreed, “but right now my Empress has need of my blade. I can worry about the rest later.”

“Hmm,” Hira said. “Would you indulge me a moment and describe the battle? I have some questions.”

“I am no storyteller,” Omura protested.

“Simply tell me what you see,” Hira pressed.

Omura stared at the chaotic mess for a moment. “I see fire,” he finally said. “A tremendous amount of it. From here it is as if the northern mountains are burning…” his voice trailed off.

“What troubles you, Omura-sama?”

Yoritomo Omura licked his lips. “The fire,” he said quietly. “It is a lie.”

The shamans had done their job well. The thick plumes of smoke they summoned were unlike any natural vapors that arose from burning materials. They were so thick as to be virtually impenetrable, and made it impossible for the warring armies to see one another more than a few feet from each other. The fighting ground to a halt as it had rolled across the battlefield. At the same time, many of the other shamans had rendered the blessing of fire’s speed on the Son of Fire and his attendants, some several hundred in number. They were not many, but they were enough for this task, heavily blessed as they were with the various gifts of the Dark Oracle.

The Son of Fire and his men quickly exploited the darkness to skirt around the far eastern edge of the battlefield and circle the Imperial City, until the legion his scouts had reported were in sight. They bore Scorpion colors, which filled the Son of Fire with rage. Pathetic enemies, one and all. As his forces leapt to the attack against the Scorpion, his rage only grew. The enemy seemed to fall before them almost without contest. Perhaps his grudging acknowledgement of the worth of samurai as warriors was in error. The Dragon and the Phoenix had fought with incredible tenacity and honor despite the horrors that had been visited upon them in his master’s name. The Unicorn had successfully prevented his forces from traveling down the path known as Exile’s Road in order to destroy their northwestern holdings. Could it be that only the northern clans possessed a warrior’s mettle? Strange.

The Son of Fire’s men rained flame and molten steel on their enemies as he approached the palanquin and the sextet of Imperial guardsmen who defended it. The commander of the Imperial Legion that surrounded the palanquin attacked, but the Son of Fire batted him aside like a child’s toy. The Seppun guardsmen charged, but he immolated them with a gout of flame from his searing maw. “Now,” he roared, “death to the Child of Heaven!” He drew in another breath and belched flame upon the palanquin, engulfing it in fire at once. “The Dark Oracle is victorious!”

The entire side of the palanquin shattered and flew outward. There was a blur of motion from within, and then something struck the Son of Fire with such force that he was driven back several steps, boiling blood trickling down his chin. “What devilry is this?” he demanded.

Two armored men emerged from the palanquin, their armor smoldering from the flames. “I did not think you would actually be stupid enough for this to work,” one of them, a large, bald Crab warrior said. “Amazing.”

“He’s nothing more than an animal,” the Lion answered, and rushed with his blade held high for the killing strike. The Son of Fire willed his fist to be wreathed in the Dark One’s black fire and parried the strike, breaking the blade as he did. He simultaneously kicked the man in the midsection with all the strength he could muster, sending him flying backwards to smash into the burning palanquin, sending ash and embers into the air.

“Setai!” the Crab shouted as he moved into position to attack.

“Worry for yourself, fool!” the Son of Fire bellowed. “This deception was pointless! When you are dead I will attack the city and kill your Empress regardless! Nothing can stop me! I am… AARRRGH!”

Shosuro Naname darted in from behind the Son of Fire and sliced the back of his leg deeply with his blade. “No escape for you, barbarian,” he hissed.

The Son of Fire plunged his burning hand down to crush the Scorpion’s skull, but it only dug into the earth as the warrior leapt away at the last moment. He spun back to intercept the Crab, but the massive warrior was faster than he anticipated, and another tetsubo strike to the head sent him reeling. His concentration faltered, and the black fire was gone in an instant.

Naname raced up the giant’s back and buried a dagger in the Son of Fire’s neck. “Finish him, Benjiro!”

Hida Benjiro lumbered in to do exactly that, but the Son of Fire twisted and grabbed Naname by the arm, ripping him off of his body and using him as a bludgeon to smash away the much larger and more heavily armored Crab. Naname was cast aside and lay unmoving on the ground even as Benjiro struggled to his feet. The Son of Fire kicked away the tetsubo and grabbed the Crab by his throat. “You are a powerful warrior,” he said. “Submit to me and stand at my side! You can guide me through the streets of the Imperial City, to victory!”

Benjiro’s eyes were steel. “No.”

The Son of Fire sneered, but nodded. “I will grant you a warrior’s death, then, as you deserve. You are the first in this war to wound me, and even on your knees, you stand tall.”

“I will be waiting on you in hell,” Benjiro snarled. “Pray you live a long life.”

“I will,” the Son of Fire said, raising a hand for the killing strike. “Have no fear of that.”

Akodo Setai emerged from the ruined palanquin, his armor melted and burned, his hair partially burned away and his face reddened from the heat. In one hand he held the handle of his katana, its jagged, broken blade jutting outward. In the other, the portion of the blade that had been broken away. Blood stained his left hand down to the elbow from where he gripped the steel blade.

The Son of Fire turned and released Benjiro to face this new threat, but the Crab sank his teeth deeply into the fire-hardened flesh of the man’s wrist and refused to release him. The Son of Fire attempted to bat Benjiro away, but could not.

Setai’s knees struck the Son of Fire’s chest as his leap came to its end. He brought both blade shards down with all his might, burying each of them into one of the Son of Fire’s eyes and pushing into the man’s skull. Entire inches of steel disappeared, but Setai did not relent, forcing them further. The Son of Fire gurgled and staggered. Setai released the blades and grabbed his head, forcing it as far back as he could before a final gout of molten flame burst forth from the man’s mouth, shooting into the air and showering down on the two samurai, burning the ruined plates of their armor where it struck them.

Benjiro struggled to his feet. Around them, the Scorpion slaughtered their enemies, all pretense of weakness and cowardice abandoned once the two samurai had emerged from the palanquin. “Setai,” he croaked. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Setai answered. “But it does not matter. He is dead, and I will live. As always.”

Benjiro nodded and left the Lion to collapse on the burning grass while he staggered over to Naname. The Scorpion was laying peacefully in the grass, his eyes looking up to the Heavens. “I cannot move,” he whispered, “so I cannot see. Is the Son of Fire dead?”

“He is,” Benjiro confirmed.

“Wonderful,” Naname said. “I really was hoping I would not have to get back up.”

The Crab warrior frowned deeply. “You… are a worthy ally. I was honored to fight alongside you today.”

Naname seemed genuinely surprised, and smiled slightly. “Thank you, Benjiro.” And then he was gone.

“Benjiro.” Setai opened a small, flame-proof bag at his belt and removed a pungent-smelling pouch. Benjiro nodded and retrieved a similar bag from his waist. Together, they tossed them onto the burning palanquin, and the smoke from it suddenly turned a strange, green color.

“Odd tricks the Scorpion have,” Benjiro observed. “Seems a shame to waste such a splendid palanquin.”

“The Scorpion prepared it for the Empress’ return to the Imperial City,” Setai said. “They claimed it had superior protection in the event of attack. I suppose it was no surprise they were returning it to the Scorpion lands.”

“A shame the Yobanjin misinterpreted that,” Benjiro said. “A costly mistake.” He looked back to the Imperial City. “Do you think they see the smoke?”

Setai nodded and closed his eyes. “Dejiko and Omura’s legions, Jimen and Noritoshi’s forces… they will all know the head has been severed. The Army of Fire has been defeated, they simply do not know it yet.” He opened his eyes again and looked at Benjiro. “You look dreadful.”

“At least I don’t look like something a fire oni ate,” the Crab grumbled. “Do you really think it is over?”

“The war is over,” Setai said. “At least until the next one.”

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The War of Dark Fire, Part 15

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

Nearly three dozen men descended from the mountains, moving like shadows through the plains in the northern portion of the Empire. They moved at night, rapidly, covering as much ground as possible as quickly as possible, and killing anything in their path. It was not until the first rays of dawn broke over the eastern horizon that they gazed across the fields at the village of Toi Koku.

“With the winter over, they will be preparing to distribute the supplies stored here to last until the harvest,” the leader of the men said. “We kill anything we find, secure the village, and ready the wagons. The others will follow with the dusk, and we will vacate the entirety of its stores.” The man licked his lips hungrily. “If what we have been told is to be believed, the village can feed the army for three, perhaps four weeks.”

“What is left of the army,” one of the others muttered.

“Enough of that!” the leader hissed. “Move!”

The men slipped into the village like phantoms, gliding effortlessly from building to building without a sound. Buildings were entered quickly and exited just as quickly, with perplexed looks. After only a matter of moments, they reached the village’s center, where there were crates and barrels numbering in the hundreds.

“What is going on here?” one of the men asked. “Where is everyone?”

“Evacuated,” the leader said, staring hungrily at the crates of food. “Find the wagons and let us get started.”

“Wait,” the other man continued. “Why are the supplies in the village center? This makes no sense.”

“Be silent!” the leader rasped.

“And what is that smell?”

One of the other men stepped up and struck the speaker across the side of the head, sending him reeling into the dirt. “Enough of your talk!” the man snarled. “We need no reminders of our misfortune!”

The speaker staggered to his feet, holding his head. “It is not my fault the fire has burned away your sense of smell,” he muttered under his breath. He did smell something, though, something acrid and unusual. Even his sense of smell had been damaged, but he knew that it was not food, nor even the strange spices the Rokugani used to garnish their meals. It was something familiar… he had smelled it before. If only he could remember.

“Hunt master,” one of the men said. “Sentry!”

The leader looked upward and spied a single samurai, crouched atop one of the buildings on the far edge of the village. “What a fool,” he snarled. “Crossbows.”

The others unslung their weapons from their backs and began knocking bolts, smiling at the thought of another samurai slain. The one who could still smell did not, an unidentified panic welling up in his chest. “Where have I smelled it before?” he whispered to himself.

As the others took aim, the samurai, one of the Crane, rose and drew his bow, the tip of his arrow smoldering with an ember taken from a torch, or perhaps a fire the Yobanjin could not see. He drew and fired in one smooth motion, the arrow arcing high above them and coming toward the supplies.

“Oh gods,” the raider whispered. “It’s lantern oil!” He turned and ran, his legs pumping as fast as they could. He heard the twanging of the crossbows behind him, and the wooshing sound of the “supplies” engulfed in flame. Ribbons of fire followed trails of oil throughout the village.  The raider prayed to his people’s gods that he would reach the edge of the village in time.

He did not.

* * *

Doji Nagori perused the scroll as he walked, nodding at parts. It seemed that the two agents he had dispatched had succeeded wonderfully in their assignments. Kirimi had proven her worth in Ukabu Mura weeks earlier, but that she had managed to take a man such as Kakita Okirou, a man who admittedly had little skill as a scout, all the way to Toi Koku and successfully extracted him was an incredible testament to the young woman’s abilities. Nagori made a mental note to speak to his military adjunct about arrangement a promotion for the young woman upon her return. Okirou would have no interest in such things, of course; the man was more an artisan than anything else, but he was also far and away the most skilled archer in the Crane delegation at court, hence Nagori’s conscription of him in this instance. All things considered, it seemed to have gone quite well. Okirou had even sent a poem with the report, celebrating the defeat of their enemies at the village. It really was quite good, in Nagori’s estimation.

Nagori rolled the scroll back up carefully, tucking the attached poem into his obi, and handed it back to the man who walked beside him. “What of the rest?”

Doji Kato inclined his head respectfully. “The ronin Kirimi hired on our behalf assisted with the breakdown and transport of the Mikado from the village long before Toi Koku was assailed by the Yobanjin infiltrators,” he revealed. “The owner is extremely grateful for our assistance in preserving the establishment. He has agreed to a three month engagement in the Doji provinces prior to the onset of winter in the fall.” Kato smiled slightly. “I am certain it will prove quite profitable for them, and of course a portion is always provided to the hosts as well.”

“The real benefit will be the dining pleasure of our guests,” Nagori corrected. “Many of whom are more pliable after enjoying fine cuisine, I think.” He walked in silence for a moment. “Has there been any further discussion from the court regarding the announcement?”

Kato frowned. “More than can be summarized,” he acknowledged. “The Empress’ revelation that she was considering returning to the Imperial City has created a rather unpleasant environment. Many wish to convince her otherwise, most vocal among them the Scorpion, but none dare contradict her or suggest she might be mistaken. It is a delicate balancing act.”

“Are the Lion still supporting the idea?”

“With great vigor and relish,” Kato said with a smirk. “They long to protect the Imperial City from another invasion, I think. Particularly since the chance of treachery is so low this time.”

“No Lion has ever failed to expect treachery,” Nagori corrected. “Well, it seems there is little we can do. Simply observe and exploit advantages when they appear. Whatever the Empress chooses, she will not choose it as a result of our support or the lack thereof.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Kato said. He hesitated briefly. “Have you considered my proposal, my lord?”

Nagori sighed. “I can but agree that the Chancellor is a constant danger to our long-term plans with regard to the Imperial Court. I am not yet convinced that forging a closer alliance with the Imperial Advisor is a good idea, however.”

“He bears no love for the Chancellor, that much is obvious,” Kato said. “The enemy of my enemy, and all that.”

“We know too little about Susumu,” Nagori said. “Until we know more, I cannot sanction your plan, Kato-san. If you wish to move ahead, you must bring me something of substance.”

The subordinate’s eyes gleamed. “You shall have it, my lord.”

* * *

            Tungba stood slightly behind an outcropping of rock for several minutes, struggling in vain to summon his courage and dispel his fear. It was a futile struggle, and eventually he accepted that he must abandon the attempt altogether. He bore a report that would not be well received by his master, or at least the man who served as his master in the absence of the Burning One. And those who bore disappointment to his master frequently did not survive the experience. Finally, he sighed and put on a brave face. He would not disgrace his family and tribe, what little remained of it, by dying a coward.

            The central area of the temporary camp was little more than a circle of stones that one of the shamans had summoned to suit the tastes of their commander. He was a ritualistic man, it was said, but Tungba could not say for certain; he had met the man only once before he had become the Son of Fire, and he knew very little of him before that time. He could but assume the others who claimed the man had changed in ways that could not fully be explained were telling the truth.

            The man who led the Army of Fire stirred where he sat observing the bonfire in the circle’s center. “You have something for me?” he rumbled. Wisps of smoke accompanied his exhalation, and his eyes glowed ever so slightly in the dim light. As always, the stench of ash and brimstone was think in the air around him.

            “Forgive my intrusion, great Son of Fire,” Tungba said shakily. “I bear news from the village called Toi Koku.”

            “Hmph,” the giant of a man snorted. He was larger than any man could ever become and still be a natural product of the mortal world. He had been a full foot shorter when Tungba had met him prior to his transformation. “The supplies?”

            “Lost, great Son,” Tungba admitted. “There was a… a trap.”

            “A trap,” he repeated. “What sort?”

            Tungba licked his lips nervously. “Fire, my lord. They burned the village and the mountains around them, killing all of the men sent to retrieve the supplies.”

            To Tungba’s surprise, the Son of Fire laughed. It was hardly comforting, however, as when the man laughed there was a slight light visible in his mouth, as if a fire burned at the back of his throat. “Fire!” the commander laughed again. “How unworthy those slugs must have been to have succumbed to such a fate.”

            “Unworthy, great one, yes,” Tungba agreed cautiously. “The… the chieftains under your command informed me that without those supplies, the army cannot continue its campaign for more than a few days. Perhaps a week at most. Great one.”

            “A week,” the Son of Fire rumbled. “This war will be at an end within that time. Toi Koku is nothing.”

            Tungba could not keep the surprise from his voice. “Great one?”

            “Ready the troops. Send our runners to the distant patrols. Have the shamans summon our outermost forces.” The man rose to his full, terrifying height. “The Burning One has spoken to me. It is time to cut the wicked heart from the rotten corpse of the Empire.”

* * *

Ikoma Otemi grimaced at the heat of the breeze that blew across the plains. It seemed that the Empire had gone from winter directly to summer, with little in the way of spring. But then war was like that; it distracted a man from what took place around him and filled his mind with death and violence. When the fog lifted, months could have passed. Seasons blurred together, and children became adults. It was an unfortunate by-product of the life of a Lion, but Otemi would have it no other way.

“Rikugunshokan,” one of his officers called to him as he exited the tent. “There is word, my lord! From the other detachments!”

“Report,” he said at once.

“Word has arrived from Lord Shigetoshi,” the officer began, consulting a number of scrolls. “His forces have joined with those of Hida Benjiro to secure the area surrounding Shiro Kitsuki. They report all known forces have withdrawn and appear to be heading east.”

Otemi nodded, frowning slightly. “Other reports?”

“Word arrived from the Shogun as well,” the officer continued. “His advance scouts indicate that the Yobanjin forces in the western mountains are likewise retreating to the east, taking a roundabout route to avoid the Lion and Crab forces. They move with such speed that even the Unicorn cannot keep up with them for long.”

The tactician’s frown grew more severe. “I find an unpleasant pattern emerging,” he remarked. “Is there anything further?”

“Reports from the Phoenix lands indicate a withdrawal of the Yobanjin, but no indication is given as to their bearing, my lord.”

“Obviously not east,” Otemi observed. “The sea and the Army of Fire would mix poorly, I believe. West, then.”

“There is a personal message from Lord Shigetoshi, commander, but it was accompanied by instructions to ask your assessment before presenting it to you.”

Otemi raised an eyebrow. “I believe the Army of Fire is massing in the Dragon Heart Plain for one final assault. Southward, toward the Imperial City.”

The officer bowed and presented the scroll, which Otemi opened at one.

Otemi-san,

You have doubtless received the same intelligence that I have. I have arrived at the conclusion that our foes are preparing for one final attack, as we have finally depleted their numbers to such an extent that further random assaults throughout the Empire will serve their purposes not at all. You have, of course, already determined this for yourself, and now your men, having had this reinforced, shall remain eternally grateful to have lived and served with a tactician of such brilliance as yourself. Likewise the Crab accompanying you have been demonstratively shown that you and you alone are fit to lead your half of our coalition forces. I know that it is a great comfort to me to have a man of your caliber to depend upon during this time of glorious war.

Marshal your forces, brother, and meet me on the Dragon Heart Plain.

 Akodo Shigetoshi

            Otemi could not help but smile slightly as he rolled up the scroll. Even in the midst of war, the Lion Champion never failed to exploit tactical advantages in the political and social realm as well as that of battle. If he himself had possessed only a fraction of Shigetoshi-sama’s political acumen during his reign as Champion, Otemi reflected, then perhaps he would have fewer regrets. He realized his subordinate stood awaiting his attention, one final scroll held in hand. “Something further?”

            “In addition to advance scouts from the Shogun’s forces, one of the Imperial Legions has arrived on the orders of the Emerald Champion.”

            The smile disappeared at once, replaced by a grimace. “Is the Champion in command?”

            “He is not, but the commander is a Scorpion just the same. Shosuro Naname of the Sixth Legion. He presents orders from his lord Jimen to join your forces and serve in whatever capacity you determine appropriate, commander.”

            “Oh,” Otemi took the scroll, surprised. His wife, a former Scorpion herself, had cautioned him strongly to be exceptionally careful in any and all dealings with Shosuro Jimen, even in the midst of a war. He was, in her estimation, one of the most dangerous men alive. Otemi had little confirmation of that assessment, but had never had cause to doubt his wife before, and would not begin now. “Prepare the men to break camp at once. Ask Hida Hikita and Shosuro Naname to meet me in my tent at their earliest convenience.” He paused for a moment. “Regardless of their convenience, however, I intend this army to be moving within two hours’ time at the outmost, is that clear?”

            “Your will, commander,” the officer said with a deep bow.

* * *

            The main garden of Kyuden Bayushi was virtually empty, something that was unheard of during the middle of the day. Yet there were no servants about, no courtiers strolling through the majestic topiaries, no old men sitting and playing go at any of the tables. It was empty and nearly silent, and the combination of the two created an eerily uncomfortable environment.

            Doji Nagori hurried through the rows, seeking the garden’s center. He glanced over his shoulder only once, managing to resist the impulse the rest of the time. He chided himself for instigating this meeting, but it seemed a necessity given the circumstances. The unanimous agreement of the other head delegates, at least, seemed to lend credence to that idea. Still, the secrecy of it pricked his conscience, and Nagori knew enough of the Tao that such a sensation could indicate his path was not just. He would simply have to pray for forgiveness later.

            Nagori came to the opening in the center of the garden, where a number of others awaited him. Representatives from each of the Great Clans were present, just as he had hoped. Time was short, and if waiting had proved necessary, all could have been undone. “My associates have initiated a number of impromptu contests,” he said quickly. “That should purchase us a few moments of privacy.”

            “Sentries will prevent entrance to the gardens for the next ten minutes,” Bayushi Paneki said quietly. “Any longer than that, and we risk discovery. What is it you wish to say, Nagori?”

            Nagori bowed to the Scorpion Champion. “I believe you have already guessed, Lord Paneki,” he said. “The announcement that the Empress plans to return to the Imperial City is one that many of us expected, but I might say that none of us, save perhaps for our Lion brothers, would have wished for.”

            There was a general nod of agreement among the others. “I fear for her safety,” Ide Eien offered quietly. “The wolves are very nearly at the gates.”

            “They will not have her,” Kitsu Kiyoko said sternly. “The Lion will not allow it.”

            “No one questions your resolve,” Nagori said, “but I feel that it would be in the best interests of the Empire if we might have some plan to ensure her protection as she leaves this place. The murder of a Divine Empress would be a blow from which the Empire might never recover.”

            “Agreed,” Yoritomo Sachina said. “Yet we cannot attempt to convince her to remain.”

            “What, then, is the simplest manner of ensuring her safety?” Nagori asked of the assembled delegates.

            “Victory,” Kiyoko said at once. “The death of her enemies.”

            “That is hardly a reasonable response,” Paneki said, his tone a shade reproving. “If it was so simple a matter, would the war not be long over?”

            “Nevertheless, it is the most suitable response,” Kiyoko insisted, meeting the Scorpion’s gaze without wavering.

            Someone cleared his throat softly, and Nagori turned toward the sound. “Do you have a suggestion, friend Crab?”

            “I do,” Yasuki Jinn-Kuen said. “I fear, however, that some among you may not find it palatable.”

TO BE CONCLUDED

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The Trap is Sprung! [Strategy]

0 Gold

Battle: If a Recon action has targeted the current battlefield’s province this turn, target your unbowed Scout Personality: Bow a target enemy unit.

2 FV

Fight them with our full force [Strategy]

0 Gold

Battle: If you control three or more units at the current battlefield, target your unbowed Personality: Move a target enemy Personality home.

If he is dishonorable, his controller loses 2 Honor.

2 FV

The War of Dark Fire, Part 14

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

            “Kyuden Asako was the sight of my first visit to the Imperial Court,” Yoritomo Yoyonagi recalled before the court. “I remember being struck with the beauty of the art there, the serenity of the gardens. It was unlike anything I had experienced at the time. I would like to say that it made a lasting change in my nature simply from attending,” she smiled wryly, “but I suppose anyone familiar with me would be able to say that such a thing was not true.” She paused for a moment at polite laughter. “Still, I will never forget the experience, and there are few courts anywhere in the Empire that I would place higher in my esteem than that of Morning Glory Castle.” She smiled again and bowed before the Scorpion delegation. “Present company excluded, of course.”

            News that the Phoenix military strategists estimated the Yobanjin army’s next significant target might be Kyuden Asako had had a profound impact upon the assembled delegations of the Imperial Court when it was first announced earlier in the morning, and throughout the day, many had offered their recollections of the palace and its grandeur. To Ikoma Asa, it seemed as if many had already pictured the palace burning, lost forever to the Empire like so many other landmarks since the war had begun. In truth, she supposed, it was not an altogether unrealistic assumption, but it was not one she found particularly productive. The recollections of the assembled courtiers, however, had been especially inspiring, and already the young poet had made notes regarding several new works she wished to begin based upon the evocative descriptions others had made regarding the palace. Asa resolved to visit the place herself, should it survive the war.

            The Imperial Chancellor tapped the table lightly with his closed fan, signaling silence throughout the room. “I have been greatly moved by your tales of Kyuden Asako throughout the day,” he said, “and our honored brothers and sisters among the Phoenix Clan have my prayers and hopes that the majestic palace endures any attacks that might be levied against it by our most insidious enemies. Should the unthinkable happen, however, I would encourage everyone to remember the teachings of the Tao, which say that we must not forget the past, but that to set aside the trappings of it is to free our spirit for growth.” Here he bowed slightly to the Phoenix. “It is my greatest hope that Kyuden Asako remains intact, but should it fall, it will never be forgotten, and thus never truly be destroyed.”

            Murmurs of appreciation passed through the crowd, and inwardly Asa was impressed with the Chancellor’s acumen. She felt as if a burden had been lifted from the group, and she could sense the tension dissipating. Bayushi Hisoka was a Scorpion, of course, and so while Asa did not trust his motivations despite his high-ranking position, she could not deny the benefit of his words.

            “The Chancellor recalls well the teachings of the Tao,” another voice cut through the murmurs. “However, I wonder if he has ever had the opportunity to study the teachings of the prophet Fudo?”

            Hisoka turned a questioning glance to the Imperial Advisor, who stepped atop the dais and took his seat, to the left of where the Divine Empress always sat when she was in attendance at the court. “Fudo, you say?” Hisoka tilted his head slightly. “I am familiar with him, but only in broad strokes. I wonder if your attribution of the title prophet might be somewhat… inaccurate, however.”

            Susumu smiled. It was, as ever, a perfectly genuine expression that nevertheless left Asa feeling somewhat cold. “I am aware that the teachings of Fudo are somewhat controversial within the Brotherhood, and many refuse to acknowledge his teachings on account of the manner in which they question many long-standing tenets of the order, but I have personally always found them particularly empowering.”

            Hisoka seemed interested. It was similar, Asa imagined, to a predator that had caught the scent of its prey. She made a mental note to explore that metaphor in her work later. “Please enlighten us, Susumu-sama.”

            The Advisor’s smile did not waver. “One of Fudo’s teachings was that the memory of the past is a burden that weighs us, chaining us to our past and slowing our journey to our destiny. He suggested that rather than rely exclusively upon recollections of the past, trappings from those days might be kept at hand. Tokens, you might say. And with those tokens to serve as reminders, one could more easily focus on other matters, without the need to relive past experiences as the only reminders of joys already gone.” He shrugged slightly. “One might say that Fudo’s interpretation of this might be that Kyuden Asako’s destruction could lead to the Phoenix constantly struggling to recreate it, rather than embrace their future and move forward to newer and greater heights. On the other hand, should it survive, then they will be free to pursue their collective destiny without regret.”

            The Chancellor raised an eyebrow, and Asa wondered if he found the exchange amusing. He was far to inscrutable to determine his actual reaction, however, layered as it was beneath the various deceptions that Scorpion so tiresomely insisted upon. “Perhaps this Fudo bears more investigation,” he admitted. “I find the concept… interesting.”

            “Then it was my great pleasure to have given you food for thought,” Susumu said. “In the meantime I, like you, will offer the Phoenix my prayers and hope that the Shiba legions recalled to their homelands arrive in time to earn a glorious victory for the Empire.”

* * *

            The western facing of the castle had been given over to him to defend, as he had requested. The Phoenix would never be so coarse as to display it openly, but he could tell that they had been enormously relieved at the arrival of his legion to assist in the eastern theater of the war. The impending arrival of the enemy at the beautiful Kyuden Asako was a source of growing fear for them, and they required assurance that the palace would not fall before the Yobanjin.

            Akodo Setai had little assurance to offer them. He was a soldier, nothing more. He had been more surprised than anyone when his lord Shigetoshi had granted him a full legion to command and asked him to move northeast. Setai had attempted to decline, but his Champion would hear none of it. Privately he wondered if it was because of the ridiculous stories that men told about him. Embellishments, exaggerations, or outright fabrications, nearly all of them. He was no hero, no warrior of legend. He was simply a man who had been fortunate not to die despite the many opportunities he had been given to do exactly that.

            The battle was going as well as could be expected thus far. The Lion had held the line despite being outnumbered by a reasonable margin. Setai wondered idly if, assuming that the clan carried the day, there would be more ridiculous stories told about him. He feared that there would. The most galling thing about the stories is that presumably they were told to honor him, and yet one day they would destroy him. Setai knew that his day would come, and when it did, it would be his own failings that brought him low. Somewhere, deep within him, there was a flaw in his soul, a bright red ember that burned hotter than even the most powerful shugenja’s spells. When battle was upon him, it longed to break free, to overwhelm his senses and render him little more than a slavering beast of bloodshed. For some years he thought he had quieted it, when he served in the courts, but when Doji Seishiro had died, it had returned stronger than ever. Already today, it worked upon his mind, painting the faces of hated enemies over the Yobanjin. The assassin he had failed to stop in his youth. The Dragon who had claimed the life of his father. And the Unicorn that had killed Seishiro. He could never kill them enough times to quench the fire.

            “Prepare yourselves,” Setai shouted to his men. “They will press again, and soon. We will answer their attack with a countercharge, and break the front lines. Who stands with me?”

            “Akodo!” was the response.

            True enough, in only a moment’s time the Yobanjin line surged forward. Setai lifted his sword to signal the counterattack, but the signal never came.

            Between the two forces, a sudden eruption of black smoke marred the battlefield, bringing the superstitious enemy to a halt. A form emerged from the smoke, a young man adorned with strange tattoos on his flesh. The man smiled in Setai’s direction, and the former Deathseeker had to suppress the urge to shout that he was not what he seemed. Laughing, the man gestured toward the Yobanjin ranks, and Setai stared in mute horror as entire ranks of the Yobanjin force screamed and dropped to the ground twisting in agony as their bodies warped against their will and ultimately collapsed into broken, misshapen heaps. He felt his stomach churn at the horror of it, but he did not succumb to it.

            The sound of the madman’s laughter was even more horrible than the dying men’s screams. “Do you see?” he said, fixing his inhuman gaze upon Setai. “Do you see what can be done if you embrace the power waiting for you? I know you, I know what you can do. Join me. Stand by my side and together we will obliterate this rabble once and for all. The names of Isawa Fosuta and Akodo Setai will be on the lips of an Empire, and beyond!”

            For the briefest possible moment, the ember of rage at his core flared brightly at the notion of destroying the Yobanjin utterly, and in that moment, Setai crushed it utterly, a feat he had believe impossible only a moment earlier. “No,” he answered.

            Fosuta’s laughter was replaced by a confused expression. “You will not join me? You will not defend your Empire by ending the lives of these… these animals?”

            “I will not join you,” Setai said. “I will never fall so low.”

            Confusion was replaced with anger. “You petulant, arrogant child!” he snarled. “There will come a day when you will beg for the darkness, because it will be all that can protect you and those you love from an end so nightmarish you can scarcely imagine it.” Then, suddenly, the anger was gone, and a cruel look of humor replaced it. “Actually, no, that will not happen, because you will be dead.” Fosuta waved his hand, and the sound of screams returned, but this time from Setai’s own ranks, as half his men doubled over and collapsed onto the ground, writhing in pain.

            Fosuta laughed again. “When this battle is spoken of, perhaps no one will speak the name Isawa Fosuta, but I promise you this: no one will speak of the victory of the Lion Clan either.” And with that he was gone in the same foul mist that he had appeared.

            Setai tightened his grip on the blade he carried, a weapon that had claimed the lives of innumerable foes over the years, and of one true friend. “Those of you who can stand, take up your weapons,” he called calmly to the Lion around him. “If we die today, we die in a manner that no one will ever forget.”

* * *

Months ago, outside Shiro Mirumoto…

Mirumoto Kei’s charge shattered the already-crumbling wall outside the castle and plunged full speed into the opening in the attacking force that the ise zumi had made. Togashi Matsuo could hear bellows in the distance, and could tell from the sound of it that Hogai was still alive. Little surprise there, seeing as Yobanjin flew through the air, twisted into blood-chilling shapes every few moments. Of Vedau, Matsuo was less sure; he could neither see nor heard the large monk, and although the thought of his defeat was so unthinkable as to be almost completely alien, the young monk could not deny the possibility did exist.

            Shortly after their exit from the castle, the three monks had separated into a three pronged attack designed for maximum disruption of the enemy formation. Matsuo had gone northwest, and his blast of icy from the frost dragon tattoo on his chest had taken a terrible toll on his enemies. Dozens of them had fallen, ensuring that he had created a large hole in the defenses that he could hear his Champion and her men exploiting even now. The blessings of the Dark Oracle of Fire were not inconsiderable, however, and many of those whom he had felled were rising, separating him from the main body of the Dragon force, driving him farther and farther away as he fought to maintain control of the situation. Many of those he battled did not rise, incapacitated by his precise and powerful strikes. Others did, however, and the benefit of numbers that they possessed was becoming more significant with each growing moment.

            A glancing blow from a metallic gauntlet stunned Matsuo, causing his vision to double. He continued fighting, his body operating on pure instinct, but he struggled to regain his clarity of thought before the waves of raiders washed over him and buried him alive only to kill him an instant later. Something seized his left arm. He brought his right over to shatter the bond, but then it was taken as well. He struggled to free himself but the ringing in his skull was too great.

            Would he finally understand the riddle of death?

            There was a sound of wet surprise on his right, and suddenly his arm was free. He quickly incapacitated the enemy to his left and freed himself, even as his vision finally returned.

            “Idiot monk!”

            Matsuo turned and saw a warrior clad in black and blue, his face obscured with a metal mask, kicking a dead Yobanjin from his blade. “Daidoji?” he said, still foggy from the blow to his head.

            “You hobble yourself by fighting without weapons! Do you think other warriors show such restraint?”

            “I am an ise zumi, above the tools of war,” Matsuo said. “I fight as I do that I might choose to spare life when I can. Death permanently impacts the universe around me, and to levy death casually is to imprint myself upon the world. How can I understand a world that I take too great a role in shaping?”

            “Fortunes,” the Daidoji swore. “Perhaps I should have let you die.”

            “Why did you not?”

            “I owe a debt of honor to the Mirumoto,” the Crane said, killing with every movement, nearly every word. “I could not stand by and watch you die, even if you deserved it.”

            “You do not understand the way of the universe.”

            “Don’t I?” the man seemed offended despite the absurdity of their circumstances. “You ise zumi wish to observe the world from afar, interacting with it only when and how you choose. You are not separate from us. You are not unique. You exist within the world and affect it with your every movement. Does your inaction not have as great a weight as your action? How many will these men kill if you spare their lives?”

            Matsuo shook his head and disabled another opponent with a nerve strike. Perhaps it was the blow to his head, but he was confused. Did the Crane have a point? Why could he not think clearly? Did his actions, or lack thereof, serve as great a barrier to enlightenment as he imagined. Suddenly he longed to speak to his master in the temple in the Crane lands, but of course that was impossible.

            The sounds of fighting were growing louder. The Dragon forces were close now, and the Crane would be safe. “Must… must think,” Matsuo said. “Need time.” He summoned the power of the centipede that encircled his legs, and suddenly he was gone.

            The Dragon’s ruthless punishment of the Yobanjin continued unabated.

* * *

            Death was here. Setai could smell it on the breeze, hidden beneath the stench of blood that was so thick. The blight the stranger had levied against his men had dramatically worsened the odds he faced on the battlefield, despite the similar curse that had been laid upon the Yobanjin at the same time. The numbers were simply impossible to overcome without some mitigating factor. Setai ground his teeth as he tore through two more enemies with his blade, and grimaced at the oncoming waves. Sooner or later one of them would wound him, and then they would fall upon him like a pack of ravenous dogs. It would be over, and after so many years of longing for death, Setai now found that he did not wish it. Not like this. He did not fear it, but within him had awakened a desire to live that he had not expected.

            At the very least, he reasoned, the castle would be well protected. The loss of Yobanjin on this facing had been dramatic, and even when the Lion were overrun, the Shiba would be able to defend the castle properly. In that respect, at least, victory would be achieved, and so it mattered little if the Lion died.

            The night was thick with smoke, as so often seemed to be the case when fighting the Yobanjin, and the dim light of a dozen fires seemed muted by the thickness of the air itself. Setai noticed a red light on the cliff overlooking the battle, and wondered idly if it might be one of the Phoenix priests preparing a ritual to aid in the battle. The light then leapt into the air and began descending toward the fight, and as Setai felt steel biting into his left arm, he wondered if this was what all men saw when they prepared to die, when their ancestors came for them to usher them into the next life.

            The red light descended through the air and struck the ground behind the Yobanjin front line. There was an explosion, of sorts, although there was no flame. Dozens of the enemy were thrown high into the air, and Setai felt the wind on his face even as he ran through the man who had cut his arm. He did not know for certain what flavor of madness this was, but he would not lose the opportunity.

            The impact drove away the smoke, and amid the fallen raiders stood a single man, bare from the chest up, a tattoo on his torso blazing like a beacon in the cover of darkness. “Hello,” he said. “I am Togashi Matsuo. May I join your men?”

            “If it suits you I have no objection,” Setai shouted, assisting one of his men to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

            “I have been observing these Yobanjin,” Matsuo said. “I experienced something of a… call it a crisis of faith during the battle for Shiro Mirumoto. I have been seeking understanding ever since.”

            “Well I hope you found it,” Setai said, gesturing toward the regrouping raiders. “Your attack only distracted them. They come again.”

            “Persistence is a virtue,” the tattooed monk said. “It is not always rewarded, however.”

            “Not so, in my experience,” Setai snarled. “For Kyuden Asako!”

* * *

            Doji Seihime paced the halls anxiously. She avoided the court chambers carefully, as she was not in the mood to hear the endless inquiries as to how her play was coming along. How the general delegates ever heard that she was working on a play to honor the Mirumoto family in the first place she did not know, but it had gotten to the point where she avoided the general sessions unless absolutely necessary. Under different circumstances, she might enjoy the attention, but at the moment, she was very close to being finished and she did not wish to discuss it. She was unwilling primarily because she had reached an impasse in her writing, and it was infuriating. She had made little progress for days now, and the thought of discussing a work with which she was having such difficulty was too great to bear.

            Seihime rounded a corner and stopped, surprised to see a small child playing in the corridor. It was a little girl, lovely as a work of art herself, but it was strange for her to be here, so far from the court. “Hello, little one,” Seihime said.

            The little girl looked up at her and beamed. “Hello!”

            “What are you doing here?”

            “My mother is preparing a new set of chambers for one of the important samurai visitors,” the girl said cheerily. “She said I would not be in the way here.”

            “I see,” Seihime said. The child of a servant, then. She was too young to know not to speak to samurai, particularly when Seihime had spoken to her first. It was a victimless offense, and one she would not mention. “Be careful, then, little one.”

            “Are you the lady telling the story?”

            Seihime had turned to leave, but looked back over her shoulder. “What?”

            “Mother says that there is a beautiful lady working on a new story,” the girl said. “I was so excited to hear it! I love new stories. You are beautiful. Are you the lady?”

            Seihime could not help but smile. She was certainly not plain-looking, but compared to many of her fellow Crane, she had never been called beautiful. “I am working on a story, yes.”

            “Oh!” the girl said. “Is it ready yet?”

            “No,” Seihime said, frowning. “I… am having trouble with the ending.”

            “Oh no! What is wrong?”

            Seihime sighed. That she was having this conversation at all was ridiculous. “The ending is… predictable. I need something to catch the attention of the people reading the story. Something to give it more weight.”

            “Is there a villain?” the little girl asked.

            “Yes,” Seihime answered.

            “You should make him have a helper that everyone thinks is a hero,” the girl said, playing with her doll. “My papa likes stories, and he says it is always better when there is a surprise villain at the end.”

            Seihime thought for a moment. The valor of the Mirumoto was a grand tale, but it needed something to distinguish the family. Perhaps a traitor from elsewhere within the clan? Someone who aided the Dark Oracle, placing the Mirumoto at a disadvantage, but giving their victory even more meaning. Yes, yes that just might be what the story needed. “Thank you, little one,” Seihime said. “What is your name?”

            “Oki!” the little girl beamed.

            “Thank you, Oki,” Seihime said. “I have to go finish the story now.”

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Toulousoe Kotei Winners

Military: Thomas Pecqueur (Crane)

Political: Julien Harquet (Shadowlands)

Kyuden Asako (Irvine)

The Supply Lines [Region]

Singular

Battle: If any enemy units are at the current battlefield, which must be this province’s battlefield unless you are a Lion Clan player, bow this card and target a Personality in your home: Move him there. Straighten his unit if he moved into a defending army.

Kyuden Asako (St. Louis)

Destroy the Supply Lines [Strategy]

0 Gold

Battle/Open: Destroy a target Terrain or Region. Lose 2 Honor.

Battle: If any enemy units are at the current battlefield, target your Personality: Move him there. Straighten his unit if he moved. You scorch the earth behind him. No other units may move to or from the battlefield he moved to this turn. Lose 2 Honor.

2 FV

Shiro Mirumoto (Toulouse)

Daidoji Toulouse

4/3

2/7/2

Crane Clan • Samurai • Hero  • Scout • Iron Crane

Battle: Ranged 3 Attack, or Ranged 4 Attack if XXX is defending

The War of Dark Fire, Part 13

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

The first charge of the Yobanjin against the walls of Shiro Shiba had been broken, due in a large part to the efforts of a young shugenja whose name Shiba Danjuro could not recall offhand. The circumstances were perplexing, but he had precious little time to decipher the conflicting reports about exactly what had happened, and in any event the affairs of shugenja were something that Danjuro understood little of. How to step in front of one to take a blow or an arrow, that was a simple matter. Understanding the give and take between them and the spirits that surrounded all things was something else altogether. Regardless, he understood that the castle might well have fallen in the first great surge if not for the young woman, and for that he would thank her a thousand times when the battle was done.

Assuming, of course, that he lived.

His new Champion Tsukimi had given him command over the forces on the western side of the castle, where the fighting was intense. It was second only to the fighting on the northern plain, where she had taken the field herself. Danjuro hoped that she was experiencing greater success than he; their enemies seemed beyond numbering. He had read the reports time and time again, he knew the incredible losses the Yobanjin had suffered. Still they came in waves. It was a strategy that Danjuro had studied during his time with Kaneka: attack without consideration for the ranks of your army, and shatter your enemy’s ability to fight or defend. The Army of Fire’s ranks had to be waning, spread as thin as it had been and suffering the manner of losses that it had. Danjuro only hoped that the Great Clans could exhaust its ranks completely before they were, in fact, broken beyond repair and unable to defend themselves from further threats. Although he could not imagine any threat greater than this.

It was difficult to fight any foe that did not care if they lived or died, only that they inflicted as much harm as possible to their enemies. That was a lesson Danjuro had learned many years ago, defending a small village from bandits alongside an honorable shugenja who had lost his way, but who found it again in death.

“Commander!” one of his officers shouted. “Siege engine!”

Danjuro offered a rapid prayer as he scanned the battle, his eyes finally settling on a row of massive wooden constructs near the westernmost flank of the force attacking them. “Fortunes!” he swore. “Where did those come from?”

“I do not know, commander! None of our scouting reports indicate anything like them as part of the attacking force!”

Something had either been missed, and at an incredible cost to the Phoenix, or the enemy had used some manner of trickery, perhaps sorcery, to conceal them. “We need men there now! Divert the seventeenth and twenty-sixth legions!”

“There is at least a division’s worth of heavy infantry in a shield around them, my lord,” the officer said, his features grim. “And many of the ones the men call ‘belchers’ as well.”

Danjuro’s jaw was set. “Ready my personal guard,” he ordered. “We ride.”

“No, my lord!” one of the others objected. “We need you here!”

“There will be no here if those engines are not brought down, and quickly!” Danjuro answered. “The Heavens only know where they got them, but they could tip the balance of the battle!”

“My lord!”

“Enough,” Danjuro said sharply. “The decision is made.”

“No, my lord,” the man said, pointing vigorously. “Look!”

Confused, Danjuro followed the man’s gesture. Just for a moment, he allowed himself an instant of incredulity. It was difficult to tell at this distance, but one of the engines was aflame, and the one nearest to it was being overrun. It looked as though there were a dozen men, perhaps two dozen at the most, attacking the crews with heavy weapons and setting fire to their ammunition. The attackers wore Crab colors.

“What in the world?” one of the officers muttered.

“It does not matter,” Danjuro said. “Stragglers from the war, perhaps. Regardless, they will quickly be overrun and we will be in this precise position again in moments. We must exploit the advantage.”

“Cavalry!”

Again, Danjuro cast about in confusion. “Tsukimi’s mounted forces? Where?”

“No, my lord, the Unicorn!”

Truly, it seemed as if there were at least fifty men in Unicorn colors, flying the banner of the Shinjo, riding north toward the battle at incredible speed. Their course placed them in a direct line to strike at the engines. The Army of Fire shifted to protect the weapons, but it would not be in time. Danjuro had seen much of cavalry in his years, but never had he seen anyone ride so swiftly. “Sachi’s Anvil,” he muttered, referring to the island off the coast. “They must have been stationed at Kyuden Kumiko.” He turned back to the men. “The Mantis dropped them off south of here. The Yoritomo are coming to land on the beach! Reinforcements will be here shortly, men, we must hold on!”

Danjuro turned back to the field. “Ready my personal guard,” he repeated. “We ride to join the Unicorn on the attack!”

* * *

Bayushi Paneki sat in his private study, tapping his fingers together lightly, lost in thought. The Winter Court had gone long past the end of winter, and he had already been forced to reallocate supplies from the Bayushi provinces twice in order to meet the needs of so many additional guests. Not only that, but the finest food and drink was required in order to preserve the reputation of the Scorpion Clan as hosts. It was proving difficult logistically, but the rewards were many. Each day, the Master of Secrets devoted at least an hour of time in his study to simply sit and attempt to assimilate all that happened during the day, taking into account the many reports he received from the various vassals participating in the court throughout the palace. He had learned an incredible amount already so far, enough to keep his agents throughout the Empire busy for years, but there was always more to learn.

Sometimes, however, he learned things that disturbed him greatly.

“Toson,” he said softly.

The screen to his study slid open with less than a whisper, and the shadowy form of the Shosuro family daimyo entered. “My lord,” he said quietly.

            “Ukabu Mura has been evacuated, has it not?”

            “It has,” Toson answered. “The Shiba defense are stretched too thin, and the village is largely unimportant. A necessary sacrifice, in the eyes of the Phoenix.”

            “I am more concerned about the aspect concerning the House of the Evening Star,” Paneki said.

            “Ah, yes. One of the most profitable geisha houses in the whole of the Empire,” Toson said. “Its staff and resources were evacuated early. They have been granted a temporary base of operations in the Crab lands.”

            Paneki pursed his lips. “Who is responsible for that?”

            Toson smiled ever so slightly. “Jinn-Kuen, of course.”

            “What an inconvenient man,” Paneki observed. “I am uncomfortable with the notion of the Crab expanding into the market of peddling vices. It infringes too much upon our secondary markets in their lands.”

            “I will have him watched carefully, my lord,” Toson said. “If he shows signs of expanding the operation, I will notify you immediately.”

            “Very good. The situation with the recall of Shiba forces to the Phoenix lands is of concern to me,” Paneki said. “Are the reports correct?”

“They are, my lord,” Toson answered. “The Phoenix have perhaps the fewest bushi of any Great Clan, and even the handful of them scattered throughout the Empire could make the difference in the defense of their homelands. Doing so would unfortunately dishonor the clan in the eyes of their allies. The Dragon have boldly stepped forward and offered a small number of their swordmasters as replacements.”

“Despite their losses,” Paneki observed.

“They consider the disparity between the number of Mirumoto and Shiba an obligation to assist their allies.” Toson shrugged slightly. “I consider it a ruthlessly absurd tactical decision, but Kei is the sort who cannot easily be predicted.”

“The Dragon do not concern me,” Paneki said.

“The monks, then,” Toson nodded. “Yes, the Imperial Advisor has secured the services of an unnamed monastic order in providing replacement yojimbo. There is no tangible evidence to suggest that the order is in any way affiliated with the Spider.”

“But they are.”

“Of course,” Toson said.

Paneki nodded slowly. “This situation is unacceptable,” he said.

“Would you like the order discredited?” Toson asked. “I can have their charges killed, if it would please you.”

“No,” Paneki said. “One failed attempt and we would receive the lion’s share of the blame for the rash of assassinations that preceded the Empress’ ascension. I do not wish that wound opened again.”

Toson bowed his head. “As you wish.”

“Prepare a document with what we know, properly sanitized, and send it to Shosurn Jimen in the Imperial City. Instruct him…” here Paneki paused for a moment and smiled every so slightly. “Request that he see it passed on to Seppun Tashime. I understand the good magistrate has a passing interest in our mutual adversaries.”

“Your will, my lord.”

“Also, find a list of everyone protected by one of these monks,” Paneki ordered. “See to it that each and every one has an agent nearby at all times. If these monks wish to make their move, they will die before they know what has happened.”

Toson bowed sharply. “It will be done at once.”

“Toson,” Paneki called as the other turned to leave. “Send Aroru to find who the master of this order is. I wish a name to go with my enemies.”

* * *

Daidoji Kirimi stood perfectly motionless, like a statue concealed in the shadows. Not even the dust stirred, thanks to the mask that muffled her slow, shallow exhalations. There was nothing at all to betray her presence. She balanced perfectly atop the rafter, and the men who passed only feet beneath her had no indication that there was another presence in the room at all.

One of the Yobanjin snarled and kicked over a small shrine. “Nothing! How can anyone waste so much time and stone on so many temples? There is nothing of use here!”

“No quarters for their monks,” another confirmed. “There will be no supplies here.”

“Keep moving, then,” their officer responded. “The commander wants the entire village searched for supplies. Once that’s done, everything burns.”

One of the barbarians who had spoken earlier chuckled darkly. “For all that the samurai have scorned us over the years, soon they will be nomadic tribes as well. We have left nothing for them to dwell in!”

Several of them chuckled as they left, although Kirimi noticed that several did not. One of them even made what she believed to be some sort of primitive religious gesture at the sight of the overturned altars and shattered vases the men left in their wake. When she was certain that they were not returning, she dropped down from the rafters without a sound and glanced about the room.

Stealth was Kirimi’s secret. Since childhood she had possessed the ability to move like a wraith, like a shadow across any surface. It had served her well during her duties as a scout for the Daidoji army, but the times when she could employ it were limited. An honorable samurai did not skulk about in the shadows, after all, and so often she was forced to put her gifts aside and behave in a manner contrary to her nature. Perhaps, she mused, she should have been born a Scorpion. But no, then she would have taken her own life in shame.

The ruination in the small shrine was difficult to look upon, haphazard though it was. The men bashed anything within arm’s reach, but were too lazy or too weary to commit to a full assault upon the trappings within. If they had had any inkling as to its importance, an importance that was belied by its simple appearance, perhaps they would have. They seemed to enjoy any act that smacked of desecration. Had that happened, Kirimi would have been unable to resist attacking them. Her against five men… the odds were not favorable, and she would almost certainly have been killed. But she could not conscience the destruction of another of the Empire’s sacred places. She simply could not have withstood it.

The young scout moved quickly to the primary devotion chamber and was relieved to find it unmarred. It was humble enough in its appearance. Agasha Kitsuki had been an exceptional individual, but after all, the history of his family was a continuing source of friction between the Dragon and Phoenix clans, and so his shrine was quiet and unassuming, out of sight and hopefully out of mind. Or it had been, until war had come its way. Now it was in jeopardy of being destroyed like so many other shrines and villages and even cities. But that would not do at all.

“Despite his descent from a family noteworthy for their abandonment of fealty,” Doji Nagori had told her, “he is nevertheless the spiritual ancestor of our Empress, even if they share no links of blood. We cannot permit its wholesale desecration. I am prevented by the status of our military forces from dispatching troops to the village.” Here he had looked at her curiously. “I am well within my rights to dismiss one of my yojimbo for an extended leave, if I so choose, however. Particularly when that yojimbo is alleged to have unique talents that might assist her in whatever she chooses to do during that time. Do I make my intentions clear you to, Kirimi-san?”

And of course he had. Nagori’s prediction had been completely correct, and she had arrived just as the evacuation of Ukabu Mura had begun in earnest. Kirimi had no choice but to remain until all had left, staying hidden to avoid being detected by the earnest but exhausted Shiba guards. And when she finally had the opportunity to move about and locate the object of her quest, the Yobanjin had arrived. Now she found herself in a difficult position. Or she would have, that was, except that Nagori had the foresight to select exactly the right person for this duty.

Carefully, reverently, Kirimi lifted the urn that contained the ashes of Agasha Kitsuki, the ancestor of the Divine Empress, from its place of honor on the principal shrine. “Forgive me, grandfathers,” she whispered to her ancestors. “I mean no disrespect by touching this, but I must see it to safety. I pray you will forgive my impertinence.”

And with that, the scout was gone, as if she had never been there in the first place.

* * *

The fields surrounding Shiro Shiba were blackened for as far as anyone could see in any direction from the fortress itself. It was possible that the damage did not extend far, because the haze of fire and battle dramatically reduced visibility, but somehow Danjuro suspected that there was ample devastation in every direction regardless of whether he could see it or not. The day was won. The Phoenix had emerged victorious. And yet, as was so often the case in war, the cost of the victory had been high, perhaps higher than he and his family would have been willing to pay.

            “I sincerely hope you aren’t going to start moping,” a gruff voice said from behind him. “I have always despised that about you Phoenix.”

            Danjuro smiled despite himself. “I was unaware that you had any significant experience with our clan, my lord.”

            Hiruma Todori dropped onto a stone abutment near Danjuro and let out an exhausted breath. “Some,” he said, “not a tremendous amount. My apathy is largely academic in nature.”

            “Academic,” Danjuro repeated. “Not a word I have heard many of your kinsmen use in the past. Perhaps I have been misinformed as to the nature of your people.”

            “I seriously doubt that.” Todori grunted slightly as he removed a shard of jagged metal from the front of his armor, then wiped away a smear of blood with a scrap of cloth, grimacing as he did so. “There will be quite a line at the torii arch, I imagine.”

            “For a few hours at least,” Danjuro agreed. “There is much to be purified of.” He turned and bowed slightly. “I want to thank you for your assistance, my lord. Your defense of our home will not be forgotten. Not by the Phoenix, and not by me.” He looked at the courtyard. “Where is Shinjo Hwarang? I would thank him as well.”

            “Riding with his men, hunting for stragglers.” Todori shook his head. “The vitality of youth is wasted on the young.” He shook an ample quantity of ash from one of his sleeves, then sneezed once. “I have heard stories of you, you know.”

            Danjuro frowned. “Oh?”

            “Mostly from my time in court, when I was a yojimbo in the Imperial Court.” He frowned at the memory. “They were mostly ridiculous, of course. You were described in the most outrageously glowing terms, the kind that make most military men sick to hear. A paragon of virtue, a man of honor, fulfilling any duty no matter the cost, never accepting defeat… it was quite tedious.”

            “I am sorry.”

            Todori grunted. “Yes. Imagine how horrible to find they are all true.”

            Danjuro shook his head. “I am only a soldier.”

            “Don’t be ridiculous. I have led soldiers by the thousand in my lifetime. You are something altogether different.” He checked his blades and stood. “If you ever find yourself near the Wall, you would be more than welcome to stand at my side against the demons.”

            “I am honored,” Danjuro said with a bow. “Unfortunately, I begin to wonder if this war will ever end, much less if I find time to visit your beautiful homeland.”

            “All wars end,” Todori said. “Just not always in the manner we would prefer.”

Discuss the events of this fiction in our Story Forum!

http://www.alderac.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=63&t=76298

Denver Kotei Winners

Military: Joe Bartolick (Crab)

Political: Rick Heinz (Scorpion)

Rossford Kotei Winners

Military: Heath Sheiman (Crane)

Political: Andrew Leukering (Crab)

New Zealand Kotei

Military: K.C. Wong (Unicorn)

Political: James Dunning (Dragon)

Force Reduction [Action]
0 Gold
Battle: Give your target unbowed Personality with 4 or higher base Force a Force penalty up to his current Force: Give a target enemy Follower or Personality without attachments an equal Force penalty. Bow it if you are a Crab Clan player. Destroy all targets whose Force is now 0.

3 FV
Counting Enemy Forces [Action]
0 Gold

Battle: If this province’s battlefield has been targeted by a Recon action, target your unbowed Scout Personality and bow him unless he is Cavalry: Destroy a target enemy Follower or Personality without Followers.

1 FV

Saving Agasha Kitsuki’s Ashes [Item]

+0/+0
2 Gold
Attaches to a Crane Clan Personality paying 2 less Gold.

Battle: Move this Personality home: Target an enemy Personality with less Personal Honor than this Personality’s Chi. Move him home. If he moved, his controller loses 2 Honor.

4 FV

The War of Dark Fire, Part 12

By Shawn Carman & Lucas Twyman

Edited by Fred Wan

            Munkjin frowned as he withdrew his blade from the dead body of the samurai he had slain. He took no pleasure in the deaths of these men and women. They were not his enemies. If the truth was told, there were legends among his family that some of his ancestors had departed the steppes hundreds of years ago and joined a group of samurai that had come from Rokugan. From what little he knew of the Empire, those samurai could only have been the Unicorn. If there was any truth to the rumors, Munkjin was not certain, but the thought that the woman he had just killed could have been his cousin filled him with shame and regret.

            As he stared down at the dead woman, Munkjin thought briefly that he should pray to the gods for her to find her way into the next life without difficulty. She had fought bravely and with honor, after all. But no, he understood that these people worshipped differently than his, and it seemed inappropriate, even if the Yobanjin were a people who accepted other beliefs; from what he understood, the Rokugani were not, and would likely have no appreciation for the prayers of an enemy such as himself. He would not dishonor her memory.

             Not for the first time, Munkjin entertained the thought of abandoning this mad war, of going to the samurai and telling them all he knew. Perhaps they would be able to help him and the others break free from the Burning One. Rumor had it that they had killed another of his type, the One of the Mountain. But of course that could simply be wishful thinking, and in any event, he dare not risk it. The image of his wife and their two children floated in his mind, never far from his thoughts. If he betrayed the Army of Fire, if any defied the Burning One’s wishes, then his loved ones would suffer. The Burning One had promised this, and although Munkjin knew that his power was not infinite, he knew that it was so great that he dare not take the risk. Those who served, at least, purchased their families’ lives with their own.

            There was a distant sound of thunder, and Munkjin was inwardly thankful. The horrific heat that radiated from those who had received the Burning One’s “blessings” made even the most sedentary activities almost unbearable, and the act of combat, something that Munkjin had relished throughout his adult life, was a grueling, inhumane feat under such heat. Any kind of rain would be a welcome relief from the relentless onslaught of the heat.

            But of course it was not thunder at all.

            Munkjin stared at the line of cavalry that rushed toward the flank where he was stationed. They must have been riding five hundred wide, and so many deep that he could not easily guess how many were among their ranks. How such a massive force of cavalry could have moved from the castle that lay in the western distance to attack from the north he did not understand.

            The silence with which the cavalry rode was terrible indeed. There was no sound, no shouts of battle, no zeal for the act of war. There was only the sound of the hooves, and the panicked cries of his comrades. Munkjin squinted and shielded his eyes. He had the keenest vision in his legion, and he could make out the faces of the front line somewhat despite their distance. Women, one and all. Warriors.

            One among them, the forty-second from the center, was an older woman whose face was almost a mirror for that of his own sacred mother, who had perished the previous winter after nearly fifty years of life. The resemblance was overwhelming. There could be no question. This woman was of his blood, of his flesh. They were kin, and he would not raise his blade against family, no matter how distant.

            Munkjin stuck his blade into the ground and stood, waiting for the thunder to wash over him. Whether he fought or not was meaningless, and if his death was imminent, he would perish free from the sin of killing his own blood. Perhaps in death he would at last find peace.

* * *

            It was perhaps a testament to the chaos and despair doubtless swelling within them, a burden they had been so painfully careful to reveal to no one within the court, that the two Phoenix did not hear his approach. Their hushed yet urgent conversation was already underway, and judging from the animated state of both men, men he had otherwise seen maintain perfect composure at almost every moment despite the circumstances, the discussion was not bearing fruit.

            “Shiro Shiba will not fall,” Shiba Yoma insisted vehement. “Such a thing is inconceivable. I will not even entertain the thought, not for a moment.”

            “I have great respect for you, and for your kinsmen,” Asako Kanta countered. “I have absolute faith in their ability to defend their home, but is this a chance we can afford to take?”

            “Acknowledging that the chance exists is tantamount to calling the Shiba’s valor into question,” Yoma said heatedly. “I will not have it! And I certainly will not indulge in such blasphemy myself!”

            “With all due respect, my lord,” Kanta said carefully, “I believe you are confusing your emotional response to the invasion with your duties.” He held up his hands quickly to fend off a rebuttal. “I mean only that we must remember that any chance, no matter how remote, must be considered so that we will not find ourselves in a position of weakness should the unthinkable happen.” He shook his head sadly. “The unthinkable has happened so many times already during the course of this war.”

            Yoma was clearly furious. His face was flushed and his jaw set, but he did not respond at once. He took several deep breaths and closed his eyes for a moment. “I understand,” he finally said. “You are simply being practical, Kanta. Thank you. You are correct, we must consider the unthinkable. If Shiro Shiba should fall, the entire southern region of the Phoenix lands would be threatened, and poorly defended.”

            “The problem we face is how to address it,” Kanta said. “The Shiba have ever been stretched thin, performing the work of families twice their size without complaint. It is one of your greatest virtues.”

            “There are a few thousand of our people spread out among the various major cities,” Yoma said, considering carefully. “Imperial City, of course, and many here at the court as well. There are many serving as yojimbo across the Empire as well, but recalling them would be… difficult.”

            “How so?” Kanta asked.

            Yoma ran a hand through his hair. “Shiba yojimbo are well known as perhaps the finest in the Empire. It is something of a political favor to grant a yojimbo of my family to an ally or trading partner. There are hundreds, perhaps more, serving throughout the Empire in such a capacity. If we recall them home, however, we could suffer a significant loss of face in court as a result of failing to meet our obligations.”

            “I think perhaps losing your family’s estate would be a greater loss,” Kanta said.

            “Almost certainly, but we cannot readily abandon our duty so easily.”

            He had heard enough. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance, my friends.”

            Both men startled at the voice, having been so engrossed in their conversation that they would not have heard someone approach, even if they were not as silent as he. “My lord Susumu-sama,” Yoma said with a bow. “Forgive us, we did not know you were here.”

            Daigotsu Susumu, for that was still how he thought of himself even if he had not used his family name in six months, smiled. “It is only natural. The anguish you must feel at the thought of your ancestral estate surely must be overwhelming.”

            Yoma smiled thinly. “It is… difficult.”

            “I may be able to offer you some measure of assistance,” Susumu said. “Although I am not well connected with many Great Clans who have a less than favorable view of my status as a ronin, I do have allies. It would be my great pleasure to offer the Phoenix, who have been nothing but gracious and sincere in their support of my position since my appointment, whatever aid I could.”

            “It is you who are gracious, my lord,” Kanta said, “but surely your resources must have greater needs than ours.”

            Susumu lifted one hand. “What greater need can a man have than to aid those who have aided him in the past, and who might aid him again in the future? No, I must do this, and I have allies who may be able to relieve your Shiba kinsmen, that they might return home with no dereliction of duty.”

            Yoma frowned slightly. “It is unconventional,” he said slowly, “but I believe that would be an acceptable solution, particularly if it was known that the Imperial Advisor endorsed the replacements.” He smiled. “Whom did you have in mind, my lord?”

            “There is a temple roughly ten miles from here,” Susumu said. “A sect of monks that are indebted to me for services rendered during my youth, as well as a debt owed to my father, are prominent there. Send a messenger to them, and ask to speak to Tetsuo and Kishida. They will assist you. I will seal your message with my personal chop, and that will be all that they require.”

            Kanta nodded. “What sect of the Brotherhood are they with, if I may ask, my lord?”

            Susumu smiled slightly. “This particular sect is no longer affiliated with the Brotherhood, I am sad to say. It seems there were philosophical differences.” He shrugged. “Still, I know that we are all too familiar with the ease with which one can fall out of favor with those who adhere too tightly to such a diverse dogma as practiced by the Brotherhood.”

            Yoma frowned slightly. “The reasoning of the Brotherhood can be… difficult to follow on occasion.”

            Susumu’s smile widened. “Then it is settled. I cannot tell you how overjoyed I am to be of use to you in this matter, my friends. I think this shall benefit us both tremendously.”

* * *

            “For nearly one thousand years, Shiro Shiba has stood, a monument to our duty. Even during the Empire’s darkest days, even when Kyuden Isawa itself fell, our Eternal Halls have remained a shining beacon for our clan.” Shiba Tsukimi’s voice was steady and strong, carrying unnaturally over the vast rows of ancient staircases leading into the Shiba palace. Her hair waved lightly in the breeze that whipped through the open gates, and ashes fell softly around her like snow. The Army of Fire was still at least a two hour march from the outer villages surrounding Shiro Shiba, but the smoke and ash was a foreboding harbinger of their arrival. The mountains and forests of the Phoenix burned, smoke carrying for miles. The morning sky was dark, clouds of soot hovering like a thunderstorm looming over the dawn.

            “The Eternal Phoenix Dojo has stood longer still, ensconced within our palace’s walls. Founded by Shiba himself, it was once a second home to me, to us all.”

            Stretching down the staircases and hundreds of feet beyond, the assembled Shiba armies murmurer assent. Deep within Tsukimi, the multitude that inhabited her soul echoed the army’s agreement. Tsukimi looked up at the sky, squinted at the red-gold of the dawn.

            “I have called you, my brethren, before me to remind you of this fact,” Tsukimi continued, her voice gradually growing in intensity, “and to remind myself of the strength of the men and women who will fight at my side. I know that many of you serve as yojimbo, and wish to be at your charges’ sides. I know that even more of you are aware exactly what you face today, for you have faced it before, in the mountains of Aoijiroi province, on the fields before Kyuden Isawa, on sacred grounds of the Ki-Rin shrine, in the streets of Hopeful Rest City. I know many of you know the strength and loyalty of your comrades, for you would not be here today without them.”

            Kneeling, Tsukimi gathered her ancient yari from the floor at her feet. She stood again and looked out over her family, and every bushi felt as if her eyes were on them, as if she had stopped to address them personally. “We asked you here for selfish reasons. We wished to see all of you, for in your faces, the Soul of the Shiba sees itself. In your weary eyes are the hopes and dreams of the Phoenix: a wish for peace after so much war, a wish for a day when our duty becomes unnecessary. Each of you knows the price we must pay for peace. I know that each of you would pay it willingly.” Tsukimi nodded, a look of distant determination in her eyes. “I know now that I am willing to pay a terrible price as well: I am willing to sacrifice us all to ensure peace. I do this because I know you, and I love you. We have aid today – many clans have sent their forces, and the Imperial Legions stand at the ready. I implore you: do not fear sacrificing yourself for them. We will be the first to face the enemy, and the first to give our lives. Today, we may all enter the fire, but is the fire not the home of our hearts?” Tsukimi raised her yari in the air and shouted into the early morning. “We may die, but death will be our reward! We may burn in the fires of this world, but in fire the Phoenix is reborn! Let the world hear that you are not afraid! Before we die, make the world remember our voices! UTZ!”

            The palace walls shook as ten thousand Phoenix joined their Champion in her cry.

* * *

            Utaku Yu Pan struggled to remain in control of herself despite the chaos. Her every instinct screamed at her to take to the saddle and ride into the fight, to find her lady Xieng Chi and fight at her side. And yet her duties as captain of the guard at Shiro Utaku Shojo demanded that she remain and coordinate the defense of the estate, no matter how much she wished otherwise. A cabal of advisors surrounded her, constantly updating her as to the castle’s defense and reports from the front lines. The din of it was maddening, and it was all she could to do maintain her sanity in the face of it all.

            The horses, at least, were safe. Before she had taken to the field, Utaku Xieng Chi had called upon Yu Pan to select one of her lesser officers. Yu Pan had chosen Kohana, one of her best and brightest. The daimyo had commanded Kohana to take the mares and foals from the stable and move them south, away from the fighting, to ensure that the sacred herd was not threatened. Kohana had departed at once, with one of the guests from the Dragon Clan, a cavalry officer named Mirumoto Kuroki, in tow. The two had coordinated the efforts of the stablemasters brilliantly, and the herd had moved south even as the Army of Fire had come into view to the east. The news that the Iuchi had brought indicating that two delegates from Winter Court, the sensei Matsu Atasuke and the well-known diplomat Doji Nagori, were in the process of escorting the Empress’ private herd of Utaku steeds to the southern Ide lands, had put the minds of the Utaku at ease regarding the safety of their beloved horses. That, at least, was one issue that did not weight heavily upon Yu Pan’s mind as she struggled to fulfill her duties in the face of a situation that no one had ever imagined might come to pass.

            “Yu Pan-sama,” one of the advisors interrupted her thoughts, “we have received word that the larger body of the army is shifting its focus.”

            She was alert and completed focused instantly. “Details, please.”

            “It seems that Xieng Chi’s assault on the flank has severely damaged the army’s body. She has received support from the Shinjo detail harassing the flank, but now the army is regrouping quicker than anticipated. They are encircling our sisters, cutting them off from viable escape routes with ranks so thick that the horses cannot traverse them quickly enough.” She bowed her head. “They are trapped, my lady.”

            “No!” Yu Pan insisted. She bit her lip. “What is the status of the force already at our gates?”

            “Several hundred strong, perhaps a thousand,” another of the advisors replied. “Without support from the main body, we can defend ourselves indefinitely.”

            “If we remain here, Xieng Chi and our sisters die,” Yu Pan said. “We must go to them with all the forces at our disposal.”

            “Captain, we cannot do that,” a third advisor said. “Doing so will allow the castle to be overrun. We cannot rescue our lady and defend our home. The two are mutually exclusive.”

            “And what if Xieng Chi and the others die?” Yu Pan snarled. “Will the enemy not then turn upon us and destroy us regardless?”

            “We cannot be sure of that. They may suffer losses too significant to continue.”

            “May?” Yu Pan threw down the iron fan she carried. “Ready all but the castle guard. They will defend the castle as best they can until we return.”

            “My lady,” one of the advisors said. “This will destroy our home.”

            “We are Utaku,” Yu Pan said defiantly. “Our home is on the battlefield.”

* * *

The screams came first: men burning eternally, driven mad by the constant pain and the smoldering smell of their own flesh, charging out into the land between the forest and the sea. The initial shock troops of the Army of Fire, the burning madmen, were always the first sent into the field, their very nature disturbing to the armies of Rokugan.

The Army of Fire poured out from the Mori Isawa onto the plain, insatiable as a wildfire. From the parapets of the ancient castle, Shiba and Imperial archers rained down death onto the approaching army, the sheer weight of their arrows blocking out what light filtered through the smoke and soot. Every so often, a shaft would find itself buried in a flaming barbarian, and the unfortunate invader’s death scream would be drowned out by the sound of his body exploding with magical energy. Huge craters were gouged into the terrain. Water from the seaside aquifer rushed in to fill the bottom of the unnatural gouges in the earth, and the Isawa were ready. The water kami, already excited by the low sea level granting them the ability to intrude on the land, were easily coaxed to further intrusion, and the sea itself began to rush through the ground. As dozens of Isawa water tensai offered their prayers and sacrifices, huge geysers erupted from the earth, smashing into the lines of the advancing army on all sides.

            There was a tremendous crashing in the distance, and the forest shook as huge lines of trees fell like bamboo shoots before a blade. From the forest’s edge, the wyrms erupted, their massive coiling forms undaunted by the flooded battlefield. They were larger and more terrible than those seen in many of the initial skirmishes – the brood mothers of their kind, perhaps, or simply what the horrible creatures became when grown fat on the blood of Rokugan’s people. Their terrible cries echoed across the battlefield, and neither arrow nor enticed kami could breach their thick hides. When the first wyrm hit the walls of Shiro Shiba, shaking the castle to its core, six brave samurai fell to their death. The defenders of Shiro Shiba’s northern walls were forced to fall back, and ever more invaders poured from the forest, a seemingly endless number.

            Shiba Danjuro, leader of the Shogun’s forces fighting on the Phoenix front of the war, cursed under his breath, and ordered his men to begin the evacuation of the palace. Shiro Shiba’s strange, winding structure was designed to turn back any attackers and serve as the ultimate defense against any who would invade the Isawa lands to the North. It was designed withstand any assault – any assault from the south. With the Yobanjin attacking from the north, Shiro Shiba would surely fall. The only hope of the Shiba forces, then, was to fall back to the narrow passage of land directly to the palace’s south. In theory, it should serve as a perfect choke-point, and it had served the Phoenix well throughout the centuries, never failing to deter an attacking force. Now, though, it would have to be used to defend against a force coming from the north, the Phoenix’s normal position of strength. Against the inferior tactics of the Yobanjin, the Phoenix had a chance, but the tremendous number of their foes made it a slim one.

            With a heavy heart, Shiba Danjuro raised his fan and signaled to the relay corps to his south, offering his recommendations to his Champion: a full retreat to the pass.

            To Isawa Kyoko, the fighting seemed endless, immeasurably bloody, and depressingly hopeless. Her assessment was not very far from the truth: it was now nearing evening, and since the attack began in the late morning, the battle had been conducted as a series of staggered retreats. Whenever the Phoenix seemed to gain a foothold against their foes, a new facet of the Yobanjin was revealed. First the wyrms, then the burning archers, then the exploding suicide troops, then the group of magically-concealed assassins that scattered two of the major command groups. The loss of life on both sides was staggering – a fact made all the worse for Kyoko because she knew that many of the Yobanjin were under the forceful thrall of the Dark Oracle of Fire. Isawa Sawao, her mentor, had told her that the Dark Oracle’s attack could not have been merely a reprisal for their clan’s hunt for the Dark Oracles’ weaknesses – a force as massive and seemingly impossible as the Yobanjin armies was obviously the result of years of planning – but each death wore on Kyoko’s conscience all the same.

            Still, Kyoko fought to remain focused. Commanding the kami was not, contrary to popular conception, a simple matter of will. While the greatest masters of elemental magic could certainly force the kami to bow to their whim by force of will alone, normally only the stolid earth kami responded to forceful commands. The kami of the air needed to be cajoled, amused, or flattered to perform the shugenja’s wishes, and hours of doing so was beginning to wear on Kyoko’s patience. At first, the flighty air kami were easily motivated to please their “friends,” but ideas like a “defending their homeland” or even simple concepts like “dying” were beyond them. After a few hours, their attention began to wear thin. Kyoko was forced to offer promises and sacrifices – a breath here, a prayer bead there – until she felt like she was being slowly cut into a thousand pieces. Despite heroes like her master, Sawao, and the Head Inquisitor Asako Juro fighting at her side, she felt her strength begin to flag. She felt herself questioning her resolve to carry on, her vision grew blurry, she slid to her knees…

            “KYOKO!”

            Kyoko’s head snapped up, and she felt a warmth in her chest. A hundred feet away, running towards her, was Isawa Takesi. His eyes were wide, looking directly at her. She had not seen him in so long, not since… not since she had pushed him away. They had their final request to marry denied, so she asked to accompany Sawao rather than allow herself to be near him. He drew closer, still running, and she smiled and slowly began getting to her feet – at least she could fight at his side again. But something was wrong. He seemed… angry. She saw that he was wielding a katana made of flame and he was charging at her too fast. Her smile disappeared…

            Takesi dived past her, a banzai scream erupting from his lips as his blade scorched the air around her cheek. She spun around and saw Takesi’s sword buried in the chest of a Yobanjin assassin, Takesi slowly standing and looking at her, his eyes wide with concern. There was a rushing sound, and the kami around her screamed. Takesi mouthed “Are you alright?” but she never heard the words.

            The Yobanjin exploded, molten flame leaping from his body. Takesi spun around and outstretched his hand, a prayer escaping his lips, as his body was engulfed by the burning plasma. The flame stopped, turned back by Takesi’s final prayer as he fell to the ground, his body scorching away, quickly engulfed by the unnatural flame. The magical fire rushed up his body, devouring everything, the ashes of his legs floating away like cherry blossoms in the breeze before the flames even reached his head. He looked at Kyoko and smiled, a smile warmer than any other she would see during the full length of her life.

            As Takesi crumbled into the breeze, Kyoko’s mind was shocked to attention, clearer than ever before. The world seemed to slow as she thought; her mind, horribly, could not think of the warm moments she spent with Takesi in the Imperial City, or on the adventures on the sea they had seemingly so long ago. Instead, the Dark Covenant of Fire glowed in her mind’s eye like a beacon. In that moment, she saw the edges of the world, of the whole of the elements themselves. She understood, somehow, how the magic of the Dark Covenant worked, a mystery not even Sawao was capable of unraveling when they visited its resting place several months earlier. But the vision was disappearing rapidly; her enlightenment was but a glimpse. She could do something, but the sacrifice…

            “Love,” she whispered to the kami, “You do not understand it, but take it nonetheless, and learn. Take from me whatever love remains in my heart.”

            The kami were silent, and she heard again the battle raging around her. It was foolish, stupid – of course they couldn’t understand such a gift, and now her momentary insight was gone forever.

            Then, around her, the air shimmered and glowed, and mournful cry echoed through the air. There was a tremendous flash of heatless light and flame, and throughout the pass, the soldiers of the Army of Fire stumbled and fell back. Some collapsed to the ground like puppets with their strings cut; others simply looked around confused; some cried out in astonishment, their flames gutted; and still others fought on, but when struck down their bodies did not shift or explode. Over a third of the enemy forces found themselves pacified, their supernatural strength denied to them, and the Phoenix began to rally.

            Sawao was suddenly at Kyoko’s side, his astonishment impossible to ignore. Several hundred yards to Kyoko’s south, Shiba Danjuro’s command group surged forward, cutting down the Yobanjin between them and the small shugenja unit. When Danjuro and his men arrived, Sawao nodded at the Imperial commander and gestured to Kyoko.

            “She is the one who did this?” Danjuro asked. “She is the one who may have saved us?”

            Sawao simply nodded and said, “Her name is Kyoko.”

            Danjuro turned back to the assembled Shiba, and cried, “When this battle is won today, the legends will speak the name of Isawa Kyoko, hero of the Battle of the Burning Palace!”

            An army cried Kyoko’s name, and she covered her face and wept.

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Blessed Herd [Follower]

2/0

1/3/-

Cavalry

Attaches to a Dragon Clan Personality paying 1 less Gold.

This Personality has Cavalry.

FV 2

Shiba Guard [Follower]

2/0

2/3/-

Yojimbo

This card has +1F while attached to a Phoenix Clan Personality.

Reaction: After an action targets this Personality, destroy this card:

The action’s effects do not happen.

FV 3

The War of Dark Fire, Part 11

By Shawn Carman & Nancy Sauer

Edited by Fred Wan

            Jineko struggled not to show her anger and despair to the others as she hurried through the winding, narrow streets of the city. The people here had been on edge for weeks, perhaps months. Many of them looked to her for guidance, despite the peculiarity she found in the matter. If they looked to her and saw fear, or panic, or even grim resignation, she was not sure what effect it might have, and thus she remained impassive despite the warring emotions that lurked just beneath the surface. Once she entered the modest estate that served as the military headquarters for the city, however, the veneer of calm slipped, and her features twisted into a mask of anger and confusion. And, if she were to be honest with herself, some small amount of fear. “They are coming,” she said darkly, her words heavy with implication.

            The ronin scattered throughout the room reacted in a number of ways. Some winced, some gasped, and some were impassive. Koan, the old eccentric, immediately lapsed into prayer. That, at least, was something familiar that Jineko could count on.

            The burly Crab who had been surveying maps of the area looked at her coolly. “More information, please.”

            “A scout report just arrived at the northern waypoint,” she elaborated. “There is a force of Yobanjin heading southeast, directly toward us.”

            The Crab glanced back down at the maps for a moment. “There seem to be few other possible destinations,” he admitted.

            Jineko nodded. “There is nothing of value in this region, Kiyoka-sama.”

            The Kaiu grunted. “They followed us here, then.”

            “Unlikely,” Jineko observed. “You have been here for ten days, and with the rains we experienced two days ago, there is no way that your trail could have been followed. I think your arrival and theirs are unrelated.”

            “Perhaps,” Kiyoka observed. “It would weigh upon me if, in attempting to assist in defending Heibesu, I contributed to its destruction.”

            “Why now?” Noburo asked. The yojimbo’s face was devoid of any expression, even fear. “The front lines have moved south of Heibesu many weeks ago. What draws their attention to us after so much time has passed?”

            “Supplies,” Kiyoka observed. “The war has lasted longer than they expected, I am sure. They have doubtless spared many smaller settlements, and even a few larger ones, such as your city. Now you are little more than an unwilling supply depot, to simplify their war efforts.”

            “I will see the city burned to the ground before I allow them to take its bounty,” Jineko said bitterly.

            Kiyoka chuckled. “I appreciate your ardor for battle,” he observed, “but if it’s all the same to you, I think I prefer to keep the city intact and defeat those who come to take it. It seems as if those who live here might better appreciate that sort of tactic.”

            Jineko attempted to scowl but could not help but smirk somewhat. This Kiyoka reminded her in some ways of her father, Saigorei. He would have liked the Crab, she thought. “What would you suggest, Kiyoka-sama?”

            “I would suggest that we do exactly what my commander instructed me to do when I was dispatched here. The same thing your Wolf Legion has done from the day of its creation, back during your father’s era,” Kiyoka said simply. “We fight.”

* * *

Few in the Empire had any truth depth of knowledge regarding the Yobanjin, their culture, history, and tactics. It was impossible to say what manner in which they waged war, or what deceptions they had used against one another in the past. For that matter, had there ever been a war that even approached this one in scope? Any grand conflict between the tribes that had forced them into a civil war? That could surely be the only possible equivalent, and somehow Bayushi Tomo did not imagine that such a thing had occurred. No, these were men who had little experience beyond a simple ambush from the rocks, or a pitfall cleverly concealed with leaves and sticks. In that regard, they were amateurs at best. Even the blessings of the Dark Oracle that they bore were strange and unfamiliar tools, or perhaps the Empire would have fallen already.

            Best not to contemplate such things.

            At Tomo’s command, a dozen Scorpion cavalry leapt forward to teach the Yobanjin something about deception. The pit in which they had been waiting was concealed with the false remnants of what appeared to be a collapsed peasant hut, its exterior properly treated to appear as though it had burned. When the Scorpion erupted from beneath the ground, charging up the ramp of earth with wild, unbridled screams of laughter, it surely must have seemed as though the earth was surrendering demons from within its bowels to slaughter the living. As Tomo had hoped, the horrible scene unfolding before them paralyzed many of the Yobanjin, if only for a few moments, and that was all the time that Tomo required.

            The front lines of the Yobanjin force attacking the sequestered city of Yamasura had moved past Tomo’s position several minutes ago, and was now deeply enmeshed in the front line of the combined Lion and Crab forces that were augmenting the city’s sparse defenders. There would be no ability to withdraw. That they had not bothered to check the fallen building only confirmed to Tomo that they were a foolish, disorganized group that had little more in the way of advantages than brutality, the element of surprise, and the sinister gifts of the Dark Oracle. They were a blunt, crude instrument, nothing more, and were unable to deal with anything unexpected without considerable difficulty.

            This suited Tomo perfectly, as she had something new to share with them that she was quite certain they were not going to enjoy.

            Tomo watched as a trio of the barbaric shamans moved forward to levy their blasphemous magic against her and her Scorpion kinsmen. She laughed, wiping away a drop of the viscous substance she and the others had poured over themselves and their mounts only moments before emerging from their place of hiding. She busied herself with cutting down three more of the barbarians, paying their shamans no mind whatsoever, allowing them to complete their heathen rituals, and then stood calmly as the flame rolled over the lot of them.

            The flame lasted only a few moments, and the discomfort was considerable, but the only significant problem was maintaining control over their horses, who desperately wanted to panic with the flames all around them. They were well-trained steeds, however, and their riders were even better. The unit managed to hold together, and when the flames dissipated, the shock and dismay on the faces of their enemies was worth more than Tomo could express. With another feral battle cry, she lunged forward with her steed and crushed the shamans beneath her.

            The demoralization of the Yobanjin was glorious, and the Scorpion cut a path through them with minimal effort. Having erupted from the ground and seemingly immune to the army’s magic, Tomo could only imagine what they must think of their new enemies. She knew the illusion would not hold, however, and pressed forward as fast as she dared. The solution the Tamori had provided, while thick and foul-smelling, worked brilliantly but would not last indefinitely. Already she could feel the coolness on her skin where it was disappearing into the air, and she feared that a second blast from other shamans might easily overcome their defenses and incinerate them at once. She regretted that she would likely have no chance to congratulate the Tamori on how well their solution worked.

            A spear bit deeply into Tomo’s arm as she spied the army’s command group. She growled through the pain and cut away the head of the man who had wounded her, but the illusion of their invulnerability was gone. She spurred her horse on faster, aware that two of her men had fallen. The remaining ten charged as though the hordes of Jigoku were on their tail, crushing everything in their paths, suffering the wounds of dozens of weapons and the fire from a hundred archers. By the time they had crossed the short distance to their target, only six remained.

            The Yobanjin commander was a hulking brute of a man, wielding a scimitar in one hand and a captured no-dachi in the other. He beckoned her forward, and she gladly obliged. She rushed toward him, hurling herself into the air only seconds before the man cut through the body of her horse in such a way that would have severed one of her legs had she remained astride it. As she flew through the air, she lashed beneath her, but the tip of her blade only cut through the commander’s helmet and bit into his scalp, leaving a long, bloody, painful wound. She landed gracefully behind him, stopping only for a brief moment to grunt in pain at the arrow that suddenly sprouted from her abdomen. She then performed a backwards cut that literally severed the commander’s legs at the knees and dropping him into the dirt. The shock of the injury was such that he died instantly.

            Three more arrows impacted against Tomo, each one penetrating her armor and deep into her body. She threw aside her mask, coughing up too much blood to keep it on. She saw the remainder of the command group fall to her squad’s blades, even as they died around her. Just as she would in mere moments.

            Bayushi Tomo perished with a smile, her last sensation the sounds of panic from the Yobanjin as the Lion and Crab pushed forward at the same time as the last of the enemy command staff died on a Scorpion blade.

            It was a good plan. And a good death.

* * *

            The path that led east out of the village ran along the bottom of something that was somewhat larger than a ravine, but far too small to be considered a valley.  The meager rains of spring had been enough to refresh its rocky soil and bring out the tenacious mountain wildflowers, lending it a glory that no Doji garden could hope for.  Mirumoto Hakahime leaned against the trunk of a scrubby juniper and savored the view as she tried to catch her breath.  Spring had always been a bittersweet season for her–she loved the flowers, even when she knew that the plants that bore them would be dead in a month.  ‘All things that are born will die,’ Mirumoto Masae had told her once.  ‘Strive diligently.’  Hakahime took a deep, careful breath and moved on.

            The path led to what looked for all the world like a small warehouse set in the middle of an unplanted barley field.  Hakahime shrugged to herself, washed her hands in the basin of water next to the door and went in.  It was the oddest shrine she had ever seen, but her clan was full of odd things. 

            Inside she found a Mirumoto officer in conversation with a shugenja.  ‘You are our volunteer?’ the officer asked, noticing her entrance.

            ‘I am’, she said.

            The officer frowned as he studied her mons.  ‘You are with the Fourth Imperial Legion?  Surely you can serve the Empire better in another fashion.’

            ‘I encountered the invaders in one of their first raids.’  She indicated the still-healing burns on her face and hands.  ‘I breathed in some of the fire; my lungs are dying.’

            ‘A shugenja–’

            The shrine’s shugenja broke in.  ‘Twenty injured bushi could be healed with the effort it would take to heal her,’ he said.  He smiled at Hakahime.  ‘You will bring glory to your clan and the Legion.  The Lords of Death will smile on you.’

            Hakahime moved slowly along the path.  It offered her no cover, but that wasn’t a problem.  She had spent the morning playing hide-and-seek amongst the buildings of the abandoned village, making sure that she had the Yobanjin scouts’ full attention.  Now the time for hiding was over.

            She heard the cry of the first scout to see her, the answering yells as more of the invaders joined the chase.  Hakahime started into a brisk trot.  More would exhaust her too quickly, less might arouse suspicions of a trap.  There was as splatter of gravel tumbling down into her path, and she glanced up in genuine surprise to see one of her pursuers half-run, half-slide down the hillside towards her.  Hakahime burst into a run that lasted until an unsteady foot turned on a stone and she went sprawling.  She lay on the ground and shuddered from the white agony in her lungs as her right hand touched the pouch in her obi.  Now?  she wondered.  Now?  She could hear people approaching, talking among themselves, but there seemed only a few.  She let go of the pouch and waited.

            ‘Here we will use the strength of niten against our enemies,’ the officer said.  ‘Two weapons, two strikes–two kills.’  He gestured at the bulging sacks that lined the walls of the shrine.  ‘This is our first strike.’

            Hakahime looked them over.  ‘Rice?’ she said.

            ‘Barley,’ the shugenja corrected her.  ‘No rice grows in this area.’

            ‘But what,’ Hakahime started to say, and then she gave the two men an accusing look.  ‘You would have our clan use poison!’

            ‘What is a poison?’ the shugenja asked in a mild tone.  ‘Every farmer loses a fraction of his crop in storage to pests–I have spent years developing ways to protect our clan’s grain.  My current formula renders the grain unfit for food, but it is splendid at protecting next year’s seed-stores.’  He smiled and patted one of the bags.  ‘Am I to blame if the invaders don’t believe my warning?’

            Hakahime moved closer and saw the bags were clearly marked with the name of Emma-O.  ‘No,’ she said slowly, ‘I suppose you are not.’ 

            Rough hands grabbed her and tied her hands behind her back.  She was pulled to her feet and promptly fell over, black motes swimming through her vision.  Two men hauled her back up, each to an arm, and started to drag her back along the path.  Hakahime was grateful for the pain in her shoulders; it distracted her from her lungs.

            Voices caught her attention and she looked up to see a force of about twenty men approaching.  Her captors dropped her in front of the leader and gave some kind of report in their strange, almost familiar language.  He listened, then dropped down to one knee, seized Hakahime by her hair, and pulled her up to look at him.  “What are you doing here?” he said in accented Rokugani.

            “At the end of this path is a building holding much grain,” Hakahime said.  “What do you think I was going to do to it?”

            The man turned slightly and yelled an order.  One of the men took off at a run, heading down the path towards the village.  The leader turned back to her.  “Samurai fool.  If you had gone for it this morning, instead of darting around the village, you could have destroyed it by now.”

            “I am not a fool,” Hakahime said.  “I had a second treasure to protect, as well.”

            “And the second stroke?”  Hakahime asked.

            “Mountain paths are such a nuisance to keep clear,” the shugenja said.  “I have spent years offering prayers and gifts to the earth kami in the hills along the path–but now they know me, and they will do little favors for me when I ask.”

            “Like, say, drop an avalanche on the path?” Hakahime said.  “But you want the grain to be found, yes?”

            “We want it to be found at the time of our choosing,” the officer said.  ”There is a large scouting party approaching the village; a day behind them is a much larger force.  We will take care of the scouts first, and karma will come to the rest in due time.”

            “And what am I to do?”

            The shugenja smiled again.  “Go back out on the path and pick up a stone that you like the look of, and bring it back here.  I will do the rest.”

            The leader was silent, looking at her.  Hakahime looked into his soulless, fire-flecked eyes and saw what he saw: a thin, dirty woman with a burned face, bearing neither armor or swords but with a red silk pouch tucked into her obi.  He pulled the pouch out and then let her go.  Hakahime managed to stay upright on her knees, wondering with some detachment what kind of person the Yobanjin had been before Chosai had taken his mind.  Would he have been horrified by whatever he had done in these mountains, or would he revel in the gifts the Dark Oracle had given him?  She felt a tiny tremor in the rocky ground beneath her. 

            The leader slit open the pouch with a knife and a small rock dropped into his hand.  He looked at it, puzzled.  “What is this?” he demanded.

            “My death,” Hakahime replied.  The tremor was stronger now, and some of the Yobanjin began to look around uneasily.

            “How–” the leader started, and then the hill groaned as its side buckled and slid down into the ravine.  The Yobanjin started to yell and run, but Hakahime was ready.  With the last of her strength she shot up to her feet and threw herself at the leader, pushing him down.  She landed with her back to the avalanche, facing the wide, horrified eyes of her enemy. 

            “All things born must die,” she yelled at him. “Strive diligently!”

* * *

            Hiruma Seiko drew a deep breath and held it, counting inwardly to ten before exhaling. Actually, that was not entirely true. Every time she became agitated as a result of the pointlessness of court, she held a breath and counted to ten. She had been keeping careful count throughout the season, out of curiosity more than anything else. So far she had nearly reached twenty thousand. Seiko was not entirely sure how long the court season would last, given the oddity of the war in the north, but she was beginning to wonder if there were enough numbers in the universe to keep count of how frustrated she was. It had not been quite so bad when the season started, but now it was more than a dozen times per day. She was certain it would grow worse before it was over.

            The Scorpion were the worst part of it.

            Perhaps in another court somewhere else, anywhere else, in the Empire, things would be different. Seiko had never attended a Winter Court of any significant size before, so she could not be certain, but she suspected the fact that this one was being held in the Scorpion lands was dramatically exacerbating the situation. The Crane lands would likely be no better, but at least among the Lion or the Unicorn, for instance, she would feel more at home among warriors. The Scorpion, on the other hand, were little more than a plague upon the face of the Empire as far as she is concerned.

            For instance, at the moment, a member of the Dragon was enthusiastically thanking one of the Scorpion delegates for their role in the defense of Yamasura. Seiko had not heard what had happened there, but she was absolutely certain it could not possibly have warranted the sickeningly smug and arrogant look on the Scorpion’s face as he reassured that the only thing his clan wished in return was the opportunity to assist their allies among the Dragon in rebuilding once the war was over. Oh, and yes, there were a few mercantile interests the clan had in the ronin city of Heibesu, and if the Dragon could see clear to assist them in that matter it would be more than repayment for their assistance.

            The entire exchange left a bitter taste in Seiko’s mouth. The rest of the court seemed in remarkably good spirits following the news from Yamasura. From what she could overhear, it sounded as if there was some manner of new weapon the Tamori had developed there that had proven remarkable effective against the Yobanjin. The city had sustained significant losses but it had not fallen, and now the delegates were scrambling to determine how it could be reproduced elsewhere. Supposedly, the Empress wished to see it produced in large quantities to use against the Dark Oracle and his minions. To Seiko that was obviously conjecture, as the Empress had been withdrawn to her chambers for several days, ever since she had heard news that Shiro Kitsuki had come under attack.

            The worst part of the debate over this new creation, this alchemical mixture of which no one in the entire court had any true knowledge, was the debate that had broken out over who would assist the Tamori in creating more. Rather than waiting to hear more about it and determining where it should be produced based on that information, the clan delegations were falling all over themselves to reap the minor honor of assisting them with it. It was ludicrously self-serving, and it nearly sent Seiko into a red rage. The Scorpion had been first to attempt to secure the position, of course, but had met surprisingly stiff resistance from the Phoenix, who wished to assist in any matter pertaining to the pursuits of shugenja.

            The Lion intervening in the debate had been something of a surprise. As far as Seiko knew, the Kitsu had a somewhat conservative shugenja tradition. She doubted if they would even be able to produce the material in question. She did think they would allow the Dragon full access to their resources with little interference, however; the Lion were not the sort to stoop to espionage. They seemed to be winning the debate, fortunately, which Seiko found of comfort, but the Scorpion were attempting their normal tricks. Who knew what the final outcome would be?

            The disgust was overwhelming. Nodding to her replacement, Seiko left the chamber behind without hearing what the final decision might have been. Perhaps some time sitting in the garden would help clear her head.

* * *

            Fire and smoke filled the sky, causing the eyes of anyone who stood outside for more than a few minutes to water uncontrollably. Hida Benjiro stood atop the smallest of the castle’s tower, apparently oblivious to the circumstances that caused his eyes to be red and inflamed. “Third legion, relieve the sixth legion on the western wall,” he ordered, and his signalmen implemented his commands at once. “Bring up additional rations for the Third. They’ve been fighting all morning.” He glanced down at the forces surging around the castles. “Tell the Kuni it looks like their shamans are preparing an assault on the north. I want nothing to get through. Make that clear.” A runner left the tower immediately, forgoing the stairs to leap down off of a series of short stone emplacements jutting from the exterior. One slip could result in death, or at least grievous wounding, but then the Hiruma were accustomed to operating under exactly such conditions. “Any status updates?” Benjiro asked.

            “Reports indicate the western wall has sustained the most significant damage. All other fortifications are holding as expected.”

            “Good,” the senior commander said. “Have Seison deploy his men to shore up the damage. Only the floating crews, not the siege personnel. I have use for them.”

            “What are your orders, commander?”

            Benjiro smiled darkly. “When facing a human opponent, giving them a little hope and then crushing it utterly is spectacularly effective. Remove the reinforcements from the front gate.”

            “My lord?”

            “You have your orders.”

            Only a few moments later, Crab warriors enacted his commands, removing the massive bars that reinforced the front gate. They cleared a path behind the gates immediately afterwards, which was fortunate, for only seconds later there was a resounding thud, and the gates were forced open by the Yobanjin front line at the exterior. The exultation and violent glee obvious on the faces of the invaders was terrible to look upon, and extremely short-lived.

            Kaiu Seison looked upon the gates and what lay behind without mirth or malice. “Fire,” he said calmly. The Kaiu samurai manning the two huge ballista that had been constructed within the courtyard obliged at once, firing two massive bolts the size of tree trunks at incredible speed into the invaders. The devastation within their ranks was overwhelming. The impact instantly killed at least a half dozen of them, and the force of the strike pushed them back through the gates, killing dozens more and leaving shattered bodies scattered in a semi-circle all around the gate. The shouts of surprise and dismay were like sweet music to the Crab, who laughed as they barred the door again in the wake of the damage visited upon their enemies.

            The siege of Shiro Kitsuki, if it could be called such, continued.

            The sentry standing at the entrance to the shrine slid quickly to the floor without a sound of protest, a small needle protruding rather obviously from his neck. “Forgive me, my friend,” a soft voice whispered near his ear. “You will awaken shortly. I meant you no harm.”

            “Be silent, Ohba!” a second voice hissed in the stillness. The only sounds in this place were the sounds of battle, and those were distant, almost dreamlike. “No one must know we are here. You know our duty is sacred.”

            Shosuro Ohba frowned. “I dislike injuring an ally, Sogetsu,” he said.

            “The Dragon are our allies, yes, but this task is more important than any alliance. You know this.” Shosuro Sogetsu looked at his partner with disdain. “Our master was very clear.”

            Ohba nodded and removed several thick scrolls from the altar. “The journals of the Lady Iweko prior to her ascension are too valuable to be entrusted to the protection of the brutish Crab,” he repeated. “Jimen-sama wishes to ensure they are secured against any possible threat.”

            “And so we shall,” Sogetsu said. “Now silence your bickering and let us go.” He grimaced. “I do not relish the notion of extricating ourselves through that sea of unwashed filth beyond the castle walls.”

            “Do not be such a delicate flower,” Ohba chastised. “If it were not for such challenges, this would be a boring assignment.”

* * *

            Yoritomo Harada would likely never be mistaken by anyone as a complex man. He knew this, and accepted it. More than that, really: he understood that it was true. He was a simple man, one who accepted that his lot in life was to serve, and further that the acts he was called upon to commit in the name of his lord and clan were oftentimes unpleasant to him personally. His personal preferences, however, could never be allowed to interfere with his duty. His ancestors watched over him, and he could not bring shame to them.

            Harada’s current duty was not one that he had ever imagined for himself. A yojimbo at the Empress’ Winter Court was a duty he had neither considered nor desired, but there was no escaping it. Apparently his name had come up when his lords were considering what manner of vassal might be best suited to meet the Scorpion on their own ground. The comparison saddened Harada. He did not think of himself in such a manner, and he hoped that others did not.

            The mood in court had been subdued the past few days, much to the warrior’s relief. The attack by the Army of Fire on Shiro Kitsuki, the former home of the Empress, had taken its toll on the Child of Heaven, and she had retired to her quarters three days ago. No one had seen her since, and the severity of the situation had cast a shadow over the proceedings in general. Harada enjoyed the quieter, less frenetic pace, but knew that the cost was too great for such a meager enjoyment.

            In the main chamber, a brisk discussion was taking place between a Dragon delegate and some minor functionaries of the Unicorn and the Mantis. From what Harada could overhear, it seemed that the Dragon were already planning the reconstruction of their lands in the aftermath of the war. It seemed premature to Harada, given that the war was in no way over, but perhaps it made the Dragon feel better to contemplate such things rather than the enormity of what they had lost. Interestingly, the Dragon delegate seemed interested in the construction of a new shrine, one to the Fortune of Honest Work. It was curious, as Ebisu tended to be more revered in the Unicorn lands, and in portions of the Mantis territories, much more so than in the Dragon lands. From the sound of it, however, the Dragon were greatly moved by the assistance of the peasants who dwelled within their lands, innocent men and women who had risen up against the Army of Fire and assisted in the defense of the Dragon provinces.

            Was this such a surprise to anyone? Harada knew, as did many of his kinsmen, that the lower classes would fight like enraged animals to defend their homes, particularly when so many were convinced that the samurai were completely unconcerned with whatever losses afflicted the heimen. Perhaps things were different in the Dragon lands, but Harada doubted it. Still, he could not deny that the news the court had received of the fate of Lost Samurai Village had been both surprising and inspiring, so perhaps he should not be surprised that the Dragon had been so deeply moved by it. Perhaps it was a means by which that clan could forge a closer bond with its vassals, much as the Mantis and Unicorn enjoyed.

            Harada was still contemplating the matter as he walked through the garden. The clamor of the court chambers, subdued though it might be, was still dreadfully annoying, and he took every opportunity to leave it behind for the quiet stillness of the garden. Say what one would about the Scorpion, it seemed their gardeners were exquisitely talented. As he turned a corner, Harada smiled slightly at the sight of Hiruma Seiko. Like him, she was somewhat out of her element in court, and the two had bonded somewhat over their mutual discomfort. Despite her striking beauty, however, what drew Harada to her the most was that she did not feel the need to fill silences between them with mindless conversation. On the contrary, he mused as he sat near her, they could sit together for hours with barely a word spoken between them, simply content in the company of a kindred spirit and savoring the silence.

            As they sat, Harada felt a strange sense of peace, no doubt brought on by the garden and, if he were honest, the presence of Seiko. It was a feeling he rarely felt when he was not at sea. A compulsion overcame him, and he withdrew a small, hand-carved flute from his obi and began to play. It was a mournful song, one that carried well across the waves when the seas were calm and the ship sat still and quiet in the dead hours of night. It was a song of a sailor’s longing for home and family, and yet woven through with shades of a man’s love for the open sea and the freedom of the waves. It was one of his favorites, one that his mother had played for him as a child, and it never failed to move him.

            Unexpectedly, Seiko began to sing. It was not the song that normally accompanied the music, but her voice blended perfectly with the notes, weaving the two together into a flawless tapestry of image and emotion. It was a song Harada had never heard before, and spoke of a lost home that was denied to those who should by rights have dwelled within. Countless lives and blood were shed to try and recover it, but without success. It was a song of loss and pain, but gradually changed in tone as the story it told spoke of a recovery, one hard fought after hundreds of years, and of the glory and pride in standing in one’s home after so much time apart. Harada lost himself in the music, feeling it perhaps more strongly than he had ever felt anything in his life. He closed his eyes, only dimly aware that others had gathered in the garden to hear them together. He did not care. The world consisted only of Seiko, her song, and his music.

            Finally, after what seemed like an eternity and yet was far too soon at the same time, the song ended. Harada breathed in a deep breath and released it slowly, his spirit aflame with the sensations invoked by the song. He heard whispered murmuring around them, and inwardly scowled that others would ruin this perfect moment for him. He opened his eyes, then, to see the assembled observers part.

            The Empress and her Voice stood in the garden, regarding them carefully.

            Harada’s heart ceased to beat, it seemed, and he clumsily slumped out of his seat to kneel before the Empress. He had been in her presence before, of course, and felt the weight of her divinity as surely as if he had been carrying a heavy crate ashore. Now, however, her attention seemed to be focused squarely upon he and Seiko, and it was as if the brilliant summer sun was shining directly in his face. It was too much to bear. He lowered his face as he knelt.

            “The Empress wishes to thank you for your song,” Togashi Satsu said. “Its beauty moved her, and she was compelled to exit her chambers to see what could create such an enchanting sound.”

            “Thank you,” Seiko whispered hoarsely, but Harada was completely incapable of speech. He had an inkling, somehow, that his life had just changed forever, but he did not know how or why.

* * *

The Tonbo provinces were small and relatively unremarkable in every way, save for the inordinate amount of fighting that they had seen during the course of the family’s existence. Much of that fighting had been done by Lion forces seeking to avenge an insult so old that it would likely not have mattered any more if any other clan had endured it. Now, as the first signs of the enemy descending from the mountains came into view, it was Lion who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the meager Tonbo forces to defend the Dragonfly lands. The irony was not lost upon Ikoma Otemi.

            Otemi turned to the Crab officer on his right and surveyed the Crab forces that stood with the Lion and Dragonfly. “Should we assume this is a dire omen for your lord’s success?”

            “Benjiro-sama lives,” the old man said, his tone bitter, as if he regretted even speaking to Otemi. “Rabble such as this could not overcome him.”

            “I hope so,” Otemi said sincerely. “And yet they come to us just the same. Would they not still be in the mountains if Benjiro yet lived?”

            “There is no column of smoke,” Hida Hikita said as he pointed to the north. “For Benjiro-sama and his forces to have fallen the city would be nothing more than a smoking ruin. He would not cease fighting under any other circumstance.” He shook his wizened head. “No, these barbarians simply found the defense at Shiro Kitsuki impossible to overcome, and they have come looking for easier prey. They are weak, pathetic things. They will be broken here today.”

            Otemi nodded. It was clear the older man did not wish to take orders from anyone who did not wear his clan’s colors, but Otemi had been placed in overall command and there was little Hikita could do but accept it. The Lion veteran would have preferred to avoid such conflict, and looked for something, anything, that might distract the old officer from his misery. “There are a handful of Daidoji units our allies sent,” he observed. “Would you prefer they stand with the Crab? You have fewer men on the field today than the Lion.”

            “The Crane remain allies only so long as it suits their needs,” Hikita said bitterly.

            “I see,” Otemi said. “As you wish.” He looked over at the three blue banners. “I am surprised they did not send more. Perhaps they are hoping to mount an offensive if we fall today.”

            “I am quite sure they could send no more,” Hikita said.

            “Oh?”

            “No,” he answered. “Benjiro-sama killed all the rest.”

            Hida Kaoru easily broke the barricaded door in, sending rays of sunlight cascading into the darkened room of the interior estate. A small child near the door shrieked in terror as Kaoru’s form filled the doorway. She grimaced at the darkness inside. Had they thought that the Yobanjin would pass the estate by simply because it appeared empty? “Shush, child,” Kaoru said to the tiny girl. “I am not here to hurt you. You must not fear me, do you understand?”

            “Sakura!” a woman shrieked from an interior room, perhaps just noticing that the child was missing. A woman clad in the traditional style of the Tonbo raced out from an inner chamber wielding a knife, a wild look in her eye. “Get away from my daughter you filthy…” she stopped suddenly and dropped the knife. “Oh! Oh, I… I apologize, Hida-sama! I did not know it was you!”

            “No apologies,” Kaoru said. “Your daughter is well-deserving of such a protective mother. For now, however, I require you and those in your household to come with me.”

            The woman nodded, but frowned. “What has happened?”

            “The commander desires the line to fall back in order to draw the Yobanjin more fully out of the foothills,” Kaoru explained. “He hopes to enclose their ranks completely. Unfortunately this will likely result in the destruction of many homes in this province.” She smiled somewhat apologetically. “You know little of tactics, I am sure, but I assure you this is a necessary sacrifice. The Crab will ensure that you, and all those in this region, are well protected until such time as your homes are restored.”

            The woman nodded slowly. “Will this allow Shigetoshi-sama to destroy the Yobanjin?”

            “Yes,” Kaoru said at once.

            “For that I would burn all that I own,” the woman said. “Wait one moment while I gather the others, and we will follow you, Hida-sama.”

            Daigotsu Gyoken watched from a darkened alley as Kaoru and the Tonbo left as quickly as they could, banging on different doors as they went. There were perhaps a dozen of the scouts trying to gather everyone to leave. Of course they would not be able to locate everyone, much less mobilize them and lead them out in time.

            Which suited his purposes perfectly.

            “Rasetsu,” he called to his companion, who materialized from the dark alley like a wraith. “The Hida can’t find everyone.”

            “How convenient,” the scout said. “Of course the Tonbo will not think so. I am quite certain those left behind will feel betrayed, would you not say?”

            “I would,” Gyoken agreed. Normally he despised working with the manipulative scout, but today his particular talents would be quite useful. “I think they will be most appreciative of our protection.”

            “Where should we take them?” Rasetsu asked. “Otosan Uchi is too far.”

            “Northwest,” Gyoken said. “Take them back into the mountains.”

            “The Fingers of Bone?” Rasetsu said incredulously, his tone showing a rare moment of surprise. “We cannot risk exposing its existence!”

            “The Chuda will handle that,” Gyoken said. “We stand to gain new converts in the meantime, and it is not as if anyone could find their way back there regardless.”

            “It is risky,” Rasetsu said, rubbing his chin.

            “You know we need recruits,” Gyoken said irritably. “The search is taxing our every resource. Daigotsu-sama needs more hands searching, more eyes looking. We must do all in our power to aid him.”

            “Very well then,” the scout said, resigned. “What is your plan?”

            “My plan is to let you do the talking,” Gyoken answered. “You are quite good at that, after all.”

Like shadows among the stones, the monks of the Order of the Spider emerged from the foothills to observe the fighting just south of them. They were close enough to hear the clash of steel and the screams of the wounded, but were themselves perfectly silent. They were four dozen in number, each clad in the distinctive robes that were the trademark of the sohei, the warrior monk. Many carried bisento, the large weapon that they favored, but just as many carried no weapons at all. They watched, and waited.

They did not wait long.

One among them strode to the front of their ranks and stared at the rear of the Yobanjin army for only a few moments. “The formation on their right flank is the weakest,” he said. “We will attack there. Strike quickly and without mercy. Kill everything in your path. When the army turns, we fade into the shadows. We will reform and attack the opposite flank a short time later.” His tone did not suggest that any of these instructions were open to debate.

“Master,” one of the monks spoke up regardless. “Why are we doing this?”

The man called Michio turned and glared at the speaker with obvious disgust. “What manner of fool question is that?”

“What is Daigotsu’s purpose in this?” the monk asked. “Does he not wish the Empire brought to its knees? Is he not allied with the Dark Oracle?”

“The Dark Lord regards the Empire as his and his alone,” Michio said. “He considers this invasion an act of betrayal by a former ally. That is all I need know.”

“It simply seems…”

Michio silenced further questions with a vicious backhand that left the speaker dazed on his back among the stones. “The Order of the Spider serves Daigotsu. Our founder Roshungi wished it, and now that I am master of the order, I wish it.”

There were no further questions. The others followed their master into battle exactly as he commanded. They crossed the plain between them and their foe as swift as the shadow of a cloud crossing the sun. A lone rear guard detected their approach, but seemed to relax when he saw the insignia they bore. “The Spider,” he said in thickly accented Rokugani. “The Fire God said you were our allies. What would…”

Michio silenced the man with a knife-hand strike that broke his head into two pieces. “Any man who cannot kill ten of these creatures has no place in my order,” he hissed. “Now, to battle.”

Tonbo Chiatsu was dying. He had no delusions about that. He had been wounded early in the fighting, and the line of battle had pushed past him so quickly that even the Yobanjin had left him alone. It might have only been because he lost consciousness, and they had mistaken him for dead. Ironic that he had been mistaken for dead and allowed to live, only to die now from the blood that had issued from his wounds. Chiatsu found that he did not fear death, but he was paralyzed with fear over the fate of his wife and young son. Would the Yobanjin reach them before they could be evacuated?

A strange noise reached Chiatsu’s ears, one that seemed grossly out of place on the battlefield. It was the rustling of cloth. He remembered it well from his childhood, when his father would prepare for court and his attendants would dress him in layer after layer of fine quality cloth. The strange whispering sound had seemed so enigmatic to him as a child, but he had not thought of it since despite the commonality of it.

In the red-tinged haze of his vision, he saw something approaching. Despite the bleak surroundings and blurry perception, he could see the black kimono of a stranger with perfect clarity. He recognized the mons it bore at once, both the clan and individual family branch, and his body, which had been increasingly numb, was suddenly cold with fear. He struggled to rise and flee, but could do little more than twitch.

Suddenly the stranger who was not a stranger was next to him, and knelt. “Do you know who I am?” he asked, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

“Yes,” Chiatsu croaked feebly.

“Then you must know why I have come,” the man continued. “You know that I cannot harm those who threaten our lands unless I am invited to do so. And you know what price comes with offering such an invitation.” He paused for a moment. “Your injuries are more than I am willing to heal. You know all of this to be true. You know that your death is certain, that your hope, your life, is over. You also know that your home and family may share your fate. You know what must be done. Are you strong enough?”

Chiatsu nodded, tears in his eyes. “Please,” he said, “please stop the Yobanjin from destroying my… our home.”

“Thank you, cousin,” Tonbo Toryu said. The Dark Oracle of the Void rose from the battlefield and turned his smoldering gaze upon the battle. “Your damnation has purchased life for your family.”

* * *

            “These are remarkable times,” Usagi Kijimo said before the assembled delegates. “None among us can deny that we have seen… incredible things. Things beyond all imagining, and all within our meager lifetimes. Yet in spite of these things, this war which we witness unfolding before us now is perhaps unique in the whole of our history, and perhaps will never be repeated. It shall stand out in the story of the Empire, and we must recognize it as such.”

            “I must confess to some degree of confusion as to why the esteemed representative of the Hare Clan feels it is necessary to share these painfully obvious observations with the court,” Bayushi Hisoka mused aloud. “We are not without our own ability to perceive the world around us.”

            “Of course, Chancellor,” the young courtier said with a smile. “I would not imply otherwise. I only wish to provide context for a humble proposal that I wish to place before the court.”

            “A proposal?” the Chancellor raised his eyebrows. “Please, continue.”

            “The losses endured by the Empire are significant,” Kijimo continued. “The Dragon, Phoenix, Unicorn, Badger, and Ox have stood valiantly against the invaders, and there have been considerable successes. Now, the invaders have descended from the mountains into the Empire at large, within striking distance of the Imperial City itself.”

            Hisoka’s expression had darkened. “If fear-mongering is your proposal, I find it in poor taste,” he said darkly.

            “No, my lord,” Kijimo said with a bow. “I merely wish to point out that as the invaders descended from the mountain, who stood to meet them? The Lion and the Crab, of course, as anyone would know would happen, but who else? The Tonbo, my lord. The tiny, militarily insignificant Tonbo.”

            “Would it be your intent to suggest that the Tonbo are somehow more valorous than the Lion or Crab for their efforts?” a member of the Crane asked. “That seems… presumptuous.”

            “I would never suggest such a thing,” Kijimo said. “But do the Lion or Crab have anything to fear from war? Of course not. They are the most powerful military forces that exist in the world, and war is their nature. The Tonbo would have been well and truly justified to withdraw and permit the true masters of war to ply their deadly trade. But they did not. The simple priests, craftsmen, and diplomats instead stayed to fight alongside the others. They sacrificed themselves for the Empire when it was not necessary, simply because they wished to honor the Divine Empress with their service.”

            The Chancellor rubbed his chin. “It is true, the Tonbo are not soldiers, and yet they wished to prove their mettle. It is commendable.”

            “It is more than that, my lord,” Kijimo said. “Their example should be exalted before the Empire, that others might strive to the same level of devotion and self-sacrifice in the name of the Empress and her Empire. It would be my wish, were I able, to offer a proposal to reward those veterans of this battle with a second family name, one to show the distinction of their glory before the Child of Heaven, that others might always remember what rewards await the faithful.” He frowned somewhat. “Sadly, it is not within the parameters of the Minor Clan Alliance to suggest such a thing, as it would be self-serving and thus inappropriate in the Empress’ court.”

            “I can see the point you wish to make,” the Chancellor said, “and I find it valid. If I may offer a personal observation, your technique requires work, but shows promise. I would be happy to offer support such a proposal, not as Chancellor, but as a representative of the Scorpion Clan.”

            Kijimo bowed deeply. “The Hare, the Dragonfly, and the Minor Clan Alliance would be honored to work with the Scorpion on a matter of such distinction, my lord.”

* * *

            Utaku Yu Pan knelt briefly before rising and facing her daimyo, waiting patiently for her opportunity to speak. After what seemed like hours, Xieng Chi turned and looked at her expectedly. “Is it as bad as we feared?”

            “It is, my lady,” Yu Pan confirmed. “The Yobanjin force that sacked Shiro Shinjo has slowly been making its way across our eastern provinces. They have immolated everything in sight, and the forces we have marshaled against them have been pushed back. They would likely have reached the castle already if it were not for the Shinjo forces harassing their flank at all hours of the day.”

            Xieng Chi raised an eyebrow. “This is the first I have heard of this. If the Shinjo were in such a poor state after Shiro Shinjo was attacked, who defends it now while they pursue the enemy?”

            “The Lion, apparently,” Yu Pan said with a slight shrug. “I can make no sense of it, but that is what we have been told.”

            “Remarkable,” Xieng Chi said. “Or perhaps surreal would be a better word.”

            “Do you have orders, my lady?” Yu Pan reminded her gently.

            Xieng Chi frowned. “Orders? We do what the Utaku have always done.” She removed her lance from its stand at the ancestral shrine that stood in her preparations room. “We make ready for war.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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Preview Cards!

It’s A Trap Again!

Action

0G/1FV

Terrain

Battle: Each Personality without a Weapon at the current battlefield receives a Force penalty equal to the number of units now in his army.

Bearers of Alchemical Weapon

Follower

3F, 0HR, 3G, 2FV

Ninja

Will only attach to a Ninja personality.

Battle: Transfer any number of attachments from a target enemy Personality to another target Personality in his army. (Attachments that are not legal do not transfer.) You may take an additional Battle action

Wolf Legion

Follower

3F, 0HR, 4G, 3FV

Ronin * Singular

This card has +1F for each other Ronin you control.

After this unit assigns, if you are a Crab Clan player: The player with the Imperial Favor discards it.

Iweko’s Journals

Item

F: +0, C: +0, GC: 4, FV: 3

Political * Unique

Will only attach to a Magistrate.

Reaction: After a non-Unique Personality enters play, bow this card:

Dishonor the Personality. If his controller gained any Honor for the Personality entering play this time, he loses an equal amount of Honor.

Recovering the Empress’ Journal

Action

0G/2FV

Battle: Give +2F to each Magistrate or Scorpion Clan Personality in your army with Chi greater than a target enemy Personality’s Personal Honor.

Dragonfly Family

Action

0G/3FV

Battle: Target a Personality in your army who is Crab Clan, a Hero, or an Unaligned Human: Give him a Force bonus equal to the number of units in your home. He may use one of his base abilities a second time this turn. You may take an additional action, which must be from that ability.

Dragonfly Family

Action

3G/2FV

Battle: Target your Shadowlands Shugenja: Lose 6 Honor. Create two 0F/1C/0PH Shadowlands Undead Personalities in your home, each with the ability, “Fear Battle: Move this card to the current battlefield: Move a target enemy Personality home.” Before this turn ends, destroy all Personalities this action created.

Blessed Herd

Holding

GC: 6

Unique

Your Cavalry Followers have +1F.

Bow this card: Produce 3 Gold, or 4 Gold if paying for a Cavalry card.

The War of Dark Fire, Part 10

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

            It was the dead of night on moonless evening at White Oak Castle, but the blaze of fire kept the sky illuminated as if it were dawn. The buildings that surrounded the castle itself were fully immolated, and the castle itself had already begun to smolder from the cinders that had spread. The Shiba defending the castle had fought valiantly in the face of the invaders, but in the end there had been too few shugenja on hand to counter the strange and sinister magic wielded by the Dark Oracle’s forces.

            As of yet, the great white oak that gave the castle its name had yet been untouched. Now that the resistance had been largely dispatched, however, a number of the Yobanjin raiders had gathered around the tree and were waiting, some in obvious horror and others with an obvious sense of anticipation. After only a few moments, a particularly large and powerful-looking warrior arrived, laden with weapons from conquered enemies. He examined the tree with an expression that vaguely resembled malevolent lust. “The chieftain says that the Dark One has instructed us to desecrate this tree,” he said, his voice booming to the dozens of men gathered before it. “It is a sacred relic in Rokugan. A pale, sickly, albino relic that does nothing but remind us of their stomach-turning weakness!” There were cheers. “I say let us turn their weak stomachs and let them foam with impotent rage!”

            “Uhn,” one of the men near the officer said, suddenly clutching his head. “Gah!” He swooned, then fell to his knees. “Grragh!”

            “I am not interested in your precious instincts or your supposed ‘second sight,’ boy,” the officer sneered. “This is war, not the tent of some old matron who has decided that you are some sort of…” the man’s voice trailed off as the younger man lifted his head to meet the officer’s eyes.

            Blood streamed down his face, and his eyes were wide with terror. “Run!” he whispered hoarsely. “Run!”

            The officer glanced up for a moment to see if any of the others had noticed the younger man’s fit, but none seemed to. Instead, they were looking from one to another curiously as a loud clicking sound filled the air. It was muted somehow, as if being issued from behind a thick cloth, but it was loud enough to be heard across the courtyard and very clearly alien to this place. “What is that?” he demanded.

            There was a terrible chuckling sound and then the air itself shimmered as it did during the heat of the day over the burning sands. A man simply emerged from nowhere, and as he parted the thick, opaque air, the younger officer with the nosebleed cried out in pain and collapsed unmoving on the ground. “This is the birthplace of my mother,” the newcomer said, trailing a finger absently across his own youthful features. “This place is not for such as you to destroy.”

            “Stupid priest!” the officer spat. “Did you come here alone? Your life is now measured in breaths!”

            The newcomer stared at the Yobanjin with such malice that the other man took a half-step backwards. “The Onyx Champion does not brook such disrespect, particularly from a barbarian animal such as yourself. If it pleases you, however,” his features split into a terrible smile, “I did not come alone.” The priest held both hands aloft, both bloodied and dripping with ichor. As he did so, the clicking became louder, and the air shimmered and parted again, this time in a much larger area. The still-unmoving form of the young man on the ground spasmed once as the curtain between worlds parted, then he was still.

            From the space between worlds, a hideous monstrosity that resembled no natural creature, but was closest to an insect, emerged. It was massive, and continued to come through the portal with legs after legs, seemingly without end.

            Isawa Fosuta laughed. “Kill that fool first, Sentei,” he rasped in the hot night air.

            The screams began almost immediately, and within moments, the Yobanjin army was withdrawing from the castle.

            Asahina Beniha sat bolt upright on her mat, a strangled scream caught in her throat. She wiped perspiration from her brow and tried to collect her thoughts. She reached out for the cup of water that was on the nearby table, but her hand was shaking too badly to try and take it. Beniha slowly turned the other way and looked at the small book that sat upon the desk near her largely ceremonial daisho stand. It was a strange book, one filled with what might be described as nonsense, and yet she could not stop herself from reading from it at least once a day. She had received the book in a strange garden where she had met a number of other samurai and an entity that claimed to be an avatar of Ryoshun, the Tenth Kami.

            A garden where she had received the Talisman of Yume-do.

            “Was it real?” she whispered to no one in particular.

* * *

            Ikoma Hanshiro frowned as he rolled up yet another scroll. He had already pored over dozens without any true measure of success, and he was finding the process both tedious and frustrating. If only he were at home, the thought occurred to him for what must have been the twentieth time since dawn, this would not have been an issue. Surely the Ikoma records would contain the information that he required. Hanshiro glanced out the window to observe the position of the sun, then began replacing the scrolls. It would be time for him to resume his duties in the main courtroom very shortly, and he had no more time to dally.

            As he strode through the corridors, Hanshiro reflected on the oddity of his appointment. Given his background and previous postings, it was his opinion that he should be participating in the northern war rather than serving as the head of the yojimbo protecting the Imperial Court delegation. He would never question his orders, however, no matter how much he thought they might be inefficient; his lord Hagio was young, and questioning his authority could have disastrous results even if Hanshiro did not consider such an act anathema of the greatest magnitude.

            The court was just beginning to reconvene as Hanshiro arrived in the vast primary audience chamber of Kyuden Bayushi. He bowed his head respectfully to Kitsu Kiyoko to ensure she saw he was in place and that her people would be protected. Not that it was required, of course; he had determined within the first few days of court that the Bayushi were sincere in one thing only, and that was that they wished the court to be secret and protected from any potential scandal within their lands.

            Just before the court had broken for a brief recess, word had reached them regarding a series of devastating losses in the Phoenix lands, even as it seemed that the Dragon lands were finally making greater strides against the invading armies of the Dark Oracle. The sacred White Oak Castle had been devastated by a large invading force, although some accounts indicated it had fled before the destruction was complete. No one could offer an explanation as to why this might have happened, but then the Yobanjin had thus far proved chaotic in a way that Hanshiro found almost disgusting. Shortly after that, the Phoenix delegation informed the court that Michia Yasumi was being preemptively evacuated, although the libraries there were too large for any hope of relocation on such short notice. The Shiba were planning to defend them, and Hanshiro prayed fervently that they would be successful. The loss of a treasure such as the Kanjiro library made him nearly nauseous simply thinking about it.

            Immediately before the recess, however, perhaps the worst news of the lot had broken. With tears in his eyes, the young courtier Asako Kanta had informed the court that Shinsei and Sumai Mura, alleged to have been the home of Shinsei during his time in the Empire prior to the Day of Thunder, had been razed to the ground. The response among those assembled had been immediate and visceral, and someone in one of the delegations had actually wailed in grief at the news. The Chancellor had insisted upon a brief recess of an hour in order to allow everyone to assimilate the news. Now that time was at an end, and the court had come together once more.

            Bayushi Hisoka stepped before the court. “On behalf of the Phoenix,” he began, “it is my pleasure to present to you the august personage of Moto Xiao, one of the countless scouting patrols that the Unicorn Clan Khan appears to have dispatched throughout the northern mountains during this time of conflict.” He glanced across the room. “I need not remind you, of course, of the great heroism of these men and women over the past weeks and months, and of the Khan himself as his army pacifies the mountains near the Badger lands. We are all inspired greatly by the actions of the Khan and his men.” Here the Chancellor stopped to bow slightly to Xiao, who appeared monumentally uncomfortable, but returned the gesture. “Tell us, Xiao-san, of your patrol’s recent actions.”

            The surly Moto frowned. “My unit was until recently scouting the Dragon Heart Plain,” he said. “One among our number sacrificed herself to prevent a force of Yobanjin from reaching the ruins of Shiro Chuda.”

            “Surely she rests now with her ancestors in glory,” someone among the delegates muttered.

            “Since that time we have largely kept to the most rural areas,” Xiao continued. “Until recently, that is, when we saw the impending assault against the Phoenix village. One of my men is something of a theologian, and he impressed upon us the urgency to try to preserve some of the treasures from the village. We entered and secured the documents he identified, and he retreated from the village with them. The rest of us stayed to assist the Shiba, but the battle was hopelessly one-sided.”

            “Did you suffer great losses, Xiao-san?” Shiba Yoma asked.

            “Only three of us escaped to rejoin our comrade,” the officer said with a bowed head. “The Shiba… refused to abandon the village. None of their number survived. I am sorry, Yoma-sama.”

            Yoma nodded. “It was their choice. Neither they nor I harbor regrets, I am sure.”

            A Scorpion with graying temples and a frightful skull mask emerged from the ranks. “That you would have sacrificed yourselves for such a treasure is commendable,” the man said, “even more so when one considers that many of your men were likely, as are many Unicorn, adherents of the Shi-Tien Yen-Wang rather than disciples of the Tao. Would that be correct?”

            “Study of the Tao is still mandatory among the Unicorn dojo,” Xiao said, his tone mildly defensive, “but yes, many of my men were followers of the Lords of Death.”

            The man nodded. “I have only recently arrived, and my work has kept me sequestered from the Empire at large for some years now. For those among you unaware of my position, I am Soshi Tishi, the Imperial Librarian. I need not speak to men and women of your status about the threat that has continued to plague our Empire’s body of knowledge over the past few decades. It seems every conflict has those who seek to destroy the accumulated knowledge of our society for their own nefarious purposes.” He paused for a moment and took in those nodding in agreement. “Toward that end, with the sanction of the throne, I have been in the process of constructing a vast library in a hidden location, where duplicates of some of the Empire’s most important works can be stored without fear of their destruction by malcontents and blasphemers. With the consent of the Empress, and the support of my Champion Bayushi Paneki, I have extended an invitation to the Keepers of the Elements to study at the library and make use of our efforts, much of which involves the Little Prophet’s writings. At their discretion, we will duplicate and distribute a large number of our rarer works to whomever they believe could benefit from its wisdom.” Here he bowed to the Phoenix. “With the permission of the Phoenix, I would take these sacred works recovered from Shinsei and Sumai Mura, secret them within the library, and ensure their duplication at the hands of the Keepers.”

            Shiba Yoma nodded. “The preservation of knowledge is essential to the advancement of any society. The Phoenix enthusiastically agree.”

            “Thank you,” Tishi said with a bow.

            The group seemed pleased, murmuring appreciatively with the news, and even the Phoenix delegation’s spirits were lifted. Hanshiro expected that their spirits would be lifted even further in a few moments, when one among the Lion delegates, a young man named Kitsu Tinshu, would step forward and speak of the deeds of his ancestors, one in particular. It seemed that one of Tinshu’s ancestors had assisted in dispatching a dark spirit that had plagued White Oak Castle generations ago, and in reward, he had been granted a small cutting from the great tree itself. Further, Tinshu’s family had cultivated the tree and grown one of their own in their private estate within the Kitsu provinces. They now wished to return it to the Phoenix, a maneuver that would gain incredible favor for the Lion with that clan, and which the delegation’s leader Kiyoko had been thrilled to endorse.

            Hanshiro was less sure. Something seemed wrong to him about the entire affair, but he could not attribute it to anything save intuition. His research had been limited by the private library the Ikoma had brought with them, and as such he had been able to discover very little about Tinshu’s lineage. He knew that he had a brother, Tenshin, who served with great distinction in the Ikoma army, but beyond that he could not trace the man’s lineage beyond a few centuries prior. In only one place, an old and seemingly forgotten scroll that had been crinkled up within a seemingly empty scroll case, could Hanshiro find any record of lineage that might reveal Tinshu’s past.

            Hanshiro did not know why the name “Shimizu,” which he had never heard before, should fill him with such dread. But it did.

* * *

The Yobanjin scouts looked carefully over the mid-sized city, nestled safely between the Phoenix mountains and the vast Isawa Mori. Or those who dwelled within it had always believed that it was safe, at least. Now they were scrambling to flee for their lives in the wake of the news that the attackers from the north had bypassed the strange place called White Oak Castle and continued south.

“Pathetic,” one of them sneered, watching the Phoenix leave the town in droves. “Why don’t they stay and fight?”

“Just as well,” another said. “The chieftain will be furious if we fail to capture another objective. His punishment will be… considerable. We must succeed. This city must be destroyed.”

A third frowned as he glanced down from the foothills at the city. “Hard to say how many defenders might be there. These samurai can be tricky.” He gestured toward the back. “Better ask him.”

“What is the point?” the second muttered, but the first had already gotten up and retrieved a battered form from between two of the others. The man was slumped unconscious, covered nearly from head to toe in a second skin of dried blood and still bleeding from what appeared to be a half-dozen wounds that had only been half-heartedly dressed.

“Wake up!” the scout bellowed, slapping the man across the face. “Wake up, fool! We need information!”

The prisoner roused somewhat, but his only action was to raise his head and glare ominously at the scout with the one eye that was not swollen shut. He did not speak. “He never says anything useful,” the second scout said. “We should kill him and be done with it.”

“No,” the first scout snarled. “He has to suffer for his temerity. If he cooperates, we give him a quick death. Otherwise, he has to watch his people die.” He grabbed the prisoner by the hair and drug him to the rocks, his bound hands and feet scrabbling across the rough rock. “How many defenders?” the scout demanded.

The prisoner looked down at the city. “Four,” he said.

The scout let out an inarticulate snarl of rage and rapped the prisoner’s head against the stones. “How many?” he demanded again.

“Hard to say,” the prisoner said, spitting blood on the stone ground. “Untie my hands so I can count on my fingers. It will only take a moment.”

“Idiot!” The Yobanjin smashed the prisoner alongside the head, dropping him to the ground. “You cannot win!”

“Just kill him,” the second scout repeated. “Finish it, for the gods’ sake.”

“He’s…” the prisoner sputtered, “…not man… enough.”

The first scout’s face twisted into a mask of absolute rage, and he drew a blade as if to fulfill the man’s wish. “No,” the third scout said sharply. “Cut his feet loose and bind his mouth. He goes into the city with us.” He looked back to the city. “Perhaps a little wanton death and destruction will weaken his damnable resolve.”

For all their bluster and muscle, the Yobanjin were highly gifted at infiltration, and even burdened by their prisoner they made their way easily into Michita Yasumi without being detected. Anything that crossed their path died quickly and quietly, not only several obviously harried Shiba defenders, but a handful of innocent merchants and craftsmen who had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. After what seemed like an eternity in the city, the leader of the scout patrol knelt beside the exhausted prisoner. “Despite what you have said,” he whispered softly, “I believe that you know this city. I am going to ask you once and once only, and then I will have finally decided that you are of no more use to me.” He leaned in close. “Where is the Kanjiro library?” He reached up and pulled the man’s gag off.

The prisoner spat again. “You know I’ll see you in hell before I ever tell you,” he said, his voice completely unafraid. “Why do you bother?”

The scout’s face hardened. “Very well then,” he rasped, and drew his knife. He frowned then, seeing the expression in the prisoner’s eye. “Do you welcome death so much?”

“It is not death I welcome,” the prisoner said. “I just know that we are not alone.”

The scout frowned for a moment and then his eyes widened in realization. There were several wet thudding sounds as the others around him were struck with multiple arrows in rapid succession. The scout took his eyes from the prisoner for only a moment, but that was all that was required.

The prisoner slipped his rope-bound hands around the scout’s neck and then drove both knees upward into his chin with incredible force. The barbarian’s head snapped back at an angle that was terrible to look at, and the wretched snapping sound was like something out of a nightmare. By the time the prisoner finally released his captor, the man’s head was hanging at an angle that nature could never have intended.

One of the figures that melted from the shadows knelt and neatly sliced the prisoner’s bonds. “Todori-sama,” the man said, his voice thick with emotion. “I had begun to despair that we would ever find you alive.”

“It has been weeks since I was taken,” Hiruma Todori said. “Why were you still looking?”

“Benjiro-sama instructed us not to return unless we could find you or confirm your death,” the Hiruma samurai replied. “I had feared the latter.”

“You will have to do exactly that.” Todori struggled to his feet but would accept no assistance. “Tell Benjiro that I died ensuring the Kanjiro library would not be taken.”

“What?” Hiruma Tama asked, his mouth hanging open. “My lord, you cannot be serious!”

“The Army of Fire will be here in moments!” Todori hissed. “They want something in that library, and as far as I am concerned that is enough reason to ensure they never get it! It cannot be emptied so it must be destroyed.” He took a dai-tsuchi and a bow from one of the other scouts. “I will set it ablaze and remain inside to ensure none of them enter and survive.”

“Do not do this!” Tama pleased.

“It is done,” Todori said. “You have your orders.” He turned and headed to the library, his face grim. When the blow from behind struck, he was rendered unconscious instantly.

“Take him,” Tama barked. “I will see to the library.”

“This is treason,” one of the scouts said darkly.

“My wife died in childbirth. I have no family,” Tama said. “My shame dies with me. Now take him to Benjiro.”

* * *

            “The loss of the Kanjiro library is a dreadful tragedy, one of many that we as an Empire have been forced to endure of late,” Shiba Yoma said to the assembled court. He could sense the despair even in his own delegation behind him as he spoke, and he would not have it. There had been too much loss and suffering already, and despair could only exacerbate the situation. “None here can deny that, and surely none can feel the loss more sharply than my brothers and sisters among the Phoenix. But the question that must be posed when presented with such pain is this: what must we do in the face of it?”

            “From this vantage point,” Ide Eien added, “it seems we can accomplish precious little save to lend what support we can to those waging the war in the north. It is upon the strength of their blades that our hopes must rest, that the Empire will suffer no more terrible losses.”

            “With all respect and admiration for you, Eien-sama,” Yoma said, “I strenuously disagree. There is more that we can accomplish here, and more that we must accomplish if the long-term effects of this war are to be negated.”

            “Really?” Yoritomo Sachina seemed somewhat incredulous at the notion. “What exactly would you propose, Yoma-sam? Should we draft a stern letter to the Dark Oracle, perhaps threatening a blockade of his trading ports?”

            There was some light-hearted laughter at that, which in truth Yoma was grateful to hear. He smiled at Sachina without malice and continued. “Hardly, my lady. No, we must set an example for the remainder of the Empire. We are looked to as leaders and masters by many, and we must accept that burden without pause.”

            Many nodded. “Are we to simply accept the devastation visited upon us by this enemy?” he continued. “Are we to cow and weep and tear at our clothing in grief? I have been as guilty of this as anyone, given the terrors visited upon my people, but no longer. I will not stand by and allow the Dark Oracle to believe that he has succeeded in weakening our resolve, not even for a moment.”

            The murmur of agreement was stronger now, and he did not stop. “I will be writing to every ally I have cultivated over the years, perhaps even those who consider me an enemy. I will call in every favor that is owed to me, every measure of good will I have earned in a lifetime of service. Every bit of this I will call upon, and in doing so I will begin rebuilding the knowledge lost in the Kanjiro library. I will see to it that the sacrifice of so many men and women, Phoenix, Dragon, Unicorn, Crab, and Lion, is not in vain. When the Army of Fire is pushed from our borders, they will be forgotten. There path will be healed and rebuilt, and it will be as the Dark Oracle’s attack was little more than a bad dream.” He paused and looked around the room for effect. “That is what I plan to do. Who will join me?”

            Every voice in the room agreed in unison.

* * *

Beniha said on her mat in her private chambers, having meditated late into the evening long after the rest of the castle was sleeping. She had been unable to put aside the vibrant dreams she had suffered periodically since her departure from the spirit garden months previously, and she had determined that it was long past time that she must learn more. And thus, she had waited until nightfall. Drawing a deep breath, Beniha sensed that it was time, and she cast her mind outside of her body almost without fully intending to.

At first, the sensation was incredibly disorienting, and she fought against the panic that welled up within her. Even as she struggled, however, part of her felt completely at ease, as if this were an incredibly familiar sensation. She willed the fear to recede, and embraced the familiarity of it all. Beniha could sense the dreams of those around her, hear their inner monologues as if they were whispering them aloud, and knew without question that if she so wished, she could easily cast  her mind into their dreams, living them along with the dreamer. There was some degree of temptation involved, for Beniha had struggled with curiosity her entire life, but she put it aside; it was both invasive and offensive to consider such a thing.

Curious about the north, Beniha willed her spirit to move across the Empire, and it did with incredible speed. The land beneath her blurred into a dark-blue pastiche of mountains, forests, and lakes, until she found herself observing the Dragon mountains beneath her. She sense the worried dreams of the Dragon, the nightmares of their children, and the strange, jumbled dreaming of the Yobanjin warriors, filled with a mixture of regret, self-loathing, jubilation and exultation.

And then she sensed something else altogether.

It was a massive, powerful presence within her ability to perceive, something that slumbered as surely as those in the next room, yet different. Beniha allowed her spirit to draw nearer to it carefully, attempting to ascertain what it might be. She was careful not to draw too close or allow her scrutiny to be detected, but ultimately…

WHOSE SPIRIT STIRS AGAINST US, an impossibly loud and powerful voice demanded. WHO TREADS UPON OUR SLUMBER?

            “A child of dream,” Beniha whispered, aware that her voice and her spirit were impossibly far from one another. “I do not wish you harm.”

            SUCH A WISH WOULD MATTER LITTLE TO US, the voice returned. WE ARE BEYOND EVEN THE HAND OF THE REALMS.

            “Who are you?” Beniha asked.

            WE ARE SLUMBERING FIRE AND EARTH, FED WITH THE TRAPPED SPIRITS OF OUR BROTHERS. WE ARE MORE THAN WE ONCE WERE. WE ARE UNIQUE IN THE WORLD AND THE HEAVENS.

            Beniha frowned. “What do mortals call you?”

            MORTALS CALL US NOTHING, the voice insisted. THEY FEAR US, AS GODS MUST BE FEARED. There was a pause. SOME AMONG THEM CALL US THE KAMI’S VENGEANCE. THE NAME AMUSES US.

            “The Kami’s Vengeance,” she muttered, “the great volcano of the Dragon mountains.”

            WE HAVE KNOWN THESE MOUNTAINS FAR LONGER THAN THOSE WHO CALL THEMSELVES THE DRAGON, the voice said.

            “Do others speak to you?” she asked.

            WE SLUMBER, the voice answered simply. THOSE WHO DWELL WITHIN THE MOUNTAINS DO NOT KNOW OF OUR TRUE NATURE, ALTHOUGH THE MAD HUMAN SUSPECTS.

            Beniha idly wondered who the mad human might be, but she did not press the issue. “You slumber,” she said. “You have no wish to awaken?”

            OUR TIME WILL COME AGAIN. BUT IT IS NOT YET.

            “There are many among the mountains now who wish to cause the land harm,” Beniha said. “They are the agents of the power that attempted to enslave you many years ago. Do you recall that?”

            THE BLACKENED HAND OF THE ELEMENTS, the voice said, and Beniha thought she heard either resentment or fear. WE WOULD WISH TO VISIT PUNISHMENT UPON THEM FOR SUCH ARROGANCE.

            “Your punishment would be well deserved, of that I have no doubt,” she said. “Would such require your awakening?”

            OUR REACH IS VAST, EVEN AS WE SLUMBER. Beniha imagined she could feel the earth shaking as the spirits spoke to her. YOU WILL TAKE YOUR LEAVE NOW, LITTLE DREAMER, they said. WHAT MUST HAPPEN NOW IS NOT TO BE SEEN BY EYES SUCH AS YOURS.

            “Once your vengeance has been had,” Beniha said, “return to your sleep. I will see to it you are not disturbed, if that is your wish.”

            TO SLEEP WE SHALL RETURN, the spirits of the volcano agreed. FOR NOW.

* * *

            Asahina Benika was mildly annoyed at how the morning had proceeded thus far. Following the incredible events of her experimentation the evening before, she had remained awake throughout the night composing a lengthy letter to the lord of the Tamori, a young man named Shimura, regarding what she had learned of the volcano the Dragon called the Wrath of the Kami. She had presented it to the Dragon delegation earlier in the day, and although Kitsuki Berii had been very gracious in accepting it, she could not help but feel that his reaction to her explanation of its contents was anything less than concealed bemusement. Not that she could blame him, of course; it sounded somewhat ridiculous even to her, but she could not escape the conclusion that it was genuine in every respect. The book was exactly what it had been purported to be, and she understood now that it contained great power that she was responsible for using responsibly. Had the oath she had taken to aid the Bearer of the Jade Hand been more than she believed at the time as well? She was no longer certain.

            There was an air of excitement in the court chamber, Benika noticed instantly upon entering. The delegates seemed more animated than usual, particularly considering their previously dark moods the past few days. The defeats in the Phoenix lands weighed heavily upon them all, it seemed. “Hideshi,” she said in a low voice. “What is happening?”

            Her yojimbo, dark and beautiful as always, turned to her with his traditionally cold and emotionless expression. “The Lion have moved to hold Tetsu Kama Mura in the name of the Dragon Champion, my lady.”

            Hideshi pointed to the Ikoma stepping upon a small dais. “See for yourself, Benika-sama.”

            “I wish to make it perfectly clear,” the Ikoma said in a smooth, even tone, “that this action taken by my lord Shigetoshi was done at the specific request of the Dragon Champion, Mirumoto Kei. Shigetoshi-sama has placed the resources of the Right Hand of the Emperor at the Dragon’s disposal in order to better facilitate the defense of the Divine Empress’ lands, and in her wisdom, Kei-sama has accepted. She has requested that the Lion ensure the safety of Tetsu Kama Mura in order to safeguard the supply of weapons and materials to her forces and those forces fighting in her name throughout the northern mountains.”

            Kitsuki Berii stepped forward and bowed to the Ikoma. “Our esteemed colleague speaks the truth,” he confirmed. “Any suggestions that the Lion are exploiting the situation for their own benefit are grossly inappropriate, and the Dragon will defend the Lion’s honor to the death, if necessary. Shigetoshi-sama is a wise and honorable man to recognize that Kei-sama’s knowledge of the land and resources lends itself toward her ability to distribute the forces in the region, and Kei-sama is wise enough to know that when the Lion march, there can be only victory.” Here he bowed again to the Lion delegation as a whole, and retreated back to his ranks.

            “As we speak,” the Ikoma continued, “Shigetoshi-sama and the forces under his command move to ensure the protection of the Dragon resources at Tetsu Kama Mura. May we all pray to the Fortunes for their guidance and favor, that the Lion victory there shall surpass all expectation.”

* * *

            “The enemy is ahead!” the scouts called back to the command group. “The Army of Fire has forces already at the gate, my lord!”

            Akodo Shigetoshi, lord of the Lion Clan, nodded. “Very well.”

            At his right, Akodo Sadahige shifted in his seat. “This changes our plans considerably, I imagine.”

            “Not particularly,” Shigetoshi said.

            The officer frowned. “Forgive me for asking, my lord, but our agreement with Kei-sama was that we would secure Tetsu Kama Mura and assist in the evacuation of the ore being drawn from the mountains there. It is essential to the Dragon supply line, is it not?”

            “It is,” Shigetoshi said. “The agreement I made with Kei, however, calls for us not to evacuate the ore, but to ensure that it is not intercepted and put to use against the Dragon. I was careful to ensure terms that stated exactly that.”

            “And in return, Kei-sama will provide a portion of the ore to the Lion.”

            Shigeotshi raised a hand. “That was her choice. I attempted to dissuade her, but she would not have it. We are not here for reward, Sadahige. We are here to see justice visited upon these vermin who have violated the Empress’ decree.”

            “As you say, my lord,” Sadahige sai with a bow. “May I inquire as to how you plan to evacuate… excuse me, protect, the ore in question.”

            “I considered a number of strategies,” Shigetoshi said. “In the end, I have selected the most forthright and suitable plan of action.” He turned to his subordinate with a completely emotionless expression. “We will destroy every Yobanjin in the invading force, burn all they possess, and leave nothing behind. Then, the ore will be well protected.”

            Sadahige struggled to keep his surprise from showing. “That is a rather… simple stratagem.”

            “In this particular case, there is no need for anything more complex. It is as Akodo’s Leadership said…”

            Sadahige nodded. “The finest defense that can be mounted is an offense against one’s enemies.”

            “Phalanx to the front,” Shigetoshi said to his signalmen. “These Yobanjin have seen their final sunrise. And besides, I hear that Benjiro’s forces are on the brink of engaging the barbarians soon enough. I wish to ensure that the first blood of the day goes to the Lion, not the Crab.”

            Sadahige bowed from his waist. “As you command, my lord.”

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White Oak Castle / Spider
[Seed of Corruption]
Region
Singular
Your Shadowlands Personalities and Followers have +1F.
Reaction: After a Personality enters play from this province: Permanently give him Shadowlands.

Shinsei & Suma Mura / Unicorn
[Enlightened Scout]
Follower
F: 2, HR: 1, GC: 3, FV: 2
Cavalry * Scout
Recon Limited: Target a Province. After you destroy it by battle resolution this turn, you may put a Ring from your discard pile in your hand.

Michita Yasumi / Crab
[Retrieving Knowledge]
Action
GC: 0, FV: 3
Battle: Bow or destroy your target opposed Personality: Put a target Action card with a Battle ability from your discard pile into your hand. If your Personality’s Force was 6 or higher when you targeted him, you may take an additional Battle action.
Wrath of the Kami / Crane
[Wrath of the Kami]
Region
Mountain * Fire * Singular
Battle: If the current battlefield is at this province, destroy your target defending Personality, or bow him if he is Crane Clan: Destroy a target enemy Personality.

Tetsu Kama Mura / Lion
[Tetsu Kama Mine]
Holding
GC: 4
Mine * Singular
This card enters play paying 2 less Gold if you are a Lion Clan player.
Bow this card: Produce 2 Gold. If this pays for a Personality, after he enters play, you may create a +2F/+1C Weapon Item and attach it to him.

The War of Dark Fire, Part 9

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

The city burned, but as yet the castle was untouched. Shinjo Dun wiped the ash and sweat from his face with a sleeve that was already saturated with blood, both from his allies and his enemies. He assisted one of his comrades to his feet, but the man shook his head; it was clear that his fighting was finished. “Leave me here,” he rasped. “I will hold this position as long as I can.”

“They are in disarray,” Dun insisted. “We can break the line! Force them back!”

The infantryman shook his head. “I will be dead before long, my friend, and there is no line weak enough for me to break in this condition.”

Dun swore, but nodded. The man’s injuries were significant, and unless a shugenja happened along before the battle was over, his expectation of death was most likely going to prove accurate. Unfortunate though it was, however, it could not be Dun’s priority. Right now, his task was to push the Yobanjin line back, and if he only had a force capable of mounting a counterattack, it would be almost simple…

“Dun-sama.”

The young Unicorn turned to find a Lion standing at the ready. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “I told you to protect the castle and the Lady Genki!”

“The Lady Shinjo is protected by four hundred Lion guardians,” the Lion answered. “I am Matsu Mari, and I and ninety-nine of my men stand ready to assist you. Will you lament the situation, or shall we break the line?”

Dun scowled, but glanced down the alley and into the street beyond, where the hoarse shouts of the Yobanjin officers resounded again and again as they tried to bring order to their ranks. “Stand ready to charge,” he ordered.

* * *

“We have no word of the battle at Shiro Shinjo,” Ide Towako informed the court. “Lord Eien is with our Iuchi kinsman in attendance, attempting to discover any information that he can, but thus far there has been little word.”

“Long range communication is intensely taxing,” Shiba Yoma offered. “Those shugenja participating in the battle likely have far more pressing matters to attend to. I am certain your lord will hear of the results once the fighting has ceased.” He smiled, and added, “One way or another.”

“Forgive me if I am not as polished an orator as many of you,” a rough voice said suddenly as a large man stepped to the fore. “I am a simple man of simple tastes. I cannot help but wonder, however, how much of our concern should be heaped upon the Shinjo.” He shrugged lightly. “They are a family in disgrace, are they not? Let them fend for themselves. It is only fitting.”

There was a murmur through the court at the man’s words, both in agreement and dissent. Smaller conversations broke out among them, some of them almost immediately devolving into arguments as sharp words were exchanged.

“With respect,” a soft, musical voice said, slightly above the din of conversation, “I disagree with the respectable samurai of the Yasuki.” An exquisitely beautiful young woman clad in Scorpion colors stepped forward into the center of the room. Her name was known to all, and her face haunted the dreams of dozens of would-be suitors. “My grandmother was a ronin during the time of the Clan War, and during her travels, she spent some time in the Unicorn lands.” Bayushi Kurumi smiled fondly at the recollection, and many men felt their temperatures rise at the simple expression. “She always used to tell me what a great honor it had been for her to work alongside Horiuchi Shoan and her efforts to protect those children whose families had been lost to the war.”

“No one here questions the charitable nature of the Horiuchi,” the Yasuki said gruffly. “I am speaking of the Shinjo. Try to keep up.”

“The Horiuchi family at that time consisted exclusively of Shoan-sama,” Kurumi continued without pause. “The entirety of her efforts were funded and supported by the Shinjo, and to a considerably lesser extent her relatives among the Iuchi.” She tilted her head to the side. “They were compassionate and merciful, and worked tirelessly for the benefit of others, the majority of whom were not of their clan. I find it difficult to condemn the entire family for the actions of a few.”

The Yasuki snorted. “I might be surprised at such an opinion coming from anyone but a Scorpion,” he said derisively. “The Shinjo were still rife with Kolat at that point. They were doubtless attempting to gain the favor of a new generation to make them easier to recruit in later years.”

Kurumi raised her eyebrows slightly. “I am sorry, Yasuki-sama, but I do not know enough about the tactics of subversives to offer an opinion on a theory such as yours.”

The Crab courtier colored and seemed to be contemplating a response, but Kurumi was joined by another Scorpion, this one recognized by virtually no one. “I must offer my support to my kinsman in her assessment of the Shinjo,” he said, his voice even and clear despite the cloth mask that obscured the lower half of his face. “I am Bayushi Jutsushi, magistrate of the Scorpion. My father was Bayushi Jintoshi, whom I am greatly honored to say was an Imperial Magistrate in service to the throne for many years. Many years ago, when I was but a child, I remember my father struggling to combat the influence of a criminal group in the city where he served. They were nefarious and extremely secretive, leaving no loose ends behind when they moved from one venture to the next. My father worked for years to try and expose them, to bring them to justice, but felt that he accomplished little.”

“Perhaps he was in league with them,” the Crab suggested with a wry grin.

“Perhaps the Crab delegation would be well served to remember that an insult against the hosts of the Empress’ court could be construed as slander against the throne,” the Imperial Chancellor said calmly.

“Ah,” the Yasuki said, grimacing. “Of course, that was not my intent. Please, continue.”

“Regardless,” Jutsushi continued, “my father found himself in a stalemate until a wandering samurai arrived and offered his assistance. My father was skeptical, but ultimately accepted. Under the unwavering scrutiny of this newcomer, the group was eradicated in a matter of months. The samurai never asked for any payment, nor recognition for his deeds. When the matter was concluded, he left the next morning without a word. My father never saw him again. That man was Shinjo Shono.”

There were nods of approval throughout the room, but the Crab seemed unwilling to abandon the point. “If you are willing to consider the notion, it is possible that he was simply eliminating rivals.”

There was a stirring from the Unicorn delegation, but before Tawako could respond, a Lion stepped forward. “The Akodo family will not hear slander of Shinjo Shono or his family in court,” the lean warrior said softly. “I am honor bound to inform you that doing so further will result in a challenge being issued.”

The Yasuki seemed surprised at the response, and then Kurumi struck again. “Would you then say, Yasuki-sama, that Shinjo-Kami’s purge of the Kolat from the family’s ranks was incomplete?” She shook her head. “I find the act of questioning the Kami most distasteful. Particularly when we are convened in the court of an Empress ordained and appointed by the Celestial Heavens, which I believe includes the Kami themselves if I recall my theology correctly.”

Fans snapped open throughout the room, and the Crab clearly struggled to find a response. Finally, he simply forced a smile, muttered “Please excuse me, honored delegates,” and disappeared quickly from the room.

* * *

“My most humble apology for disturbing your meditation,” the monk said quietly, “but you must evacuate with the other attendees, my lady. There is great danger.”

Utaku Reyo opened her eyes and looked up at the monk. “What do you mean, brother?”

The monk bowed his head respectfully. “The Phoenix lands are under attack by an invading force from the north,” he explained. “We must abandon the temple. They are within striking distance.”

“Invasion?” Reyo stared at him in disbelief. “The Empire is being invaded?”

“The news has been known to us for some time,” the monk said apologetically, “but we have not shared it with pilgrims unless they specifically asked for news of the world beyond. So many of you come here for relief from such worldly concerns, we felt it would not be in your best interests to burden you with it.”

Reyo frowned. “I would not wish to have been distracted from my meditations,” she said, “but I have family for whom I would be concerned. My younger sister serves with the Khan’s armies. Have these enemies been seen anywhere besides the Phoenix lands, brother?”

“I am sorry, but I do not know,” the monk said. “Please, we must go.”

Reyo rose and accompanied the monk, surprised at how empty the shrine seemed. “Has everyone left?”

“For the most part,” the monk confirmed. “Please, gather only what you require, and we shall go. There are only a handful of us remaining.”

“What of the shrine?” she asked.

The monk halted and smiled sadly. “This place is merely stone. It is sacred, but the Ki-Rin is a creature of compassion and mercy. It does not desire wanton death in its name.”

Reyo frowned as the monk went deeper into the shrine. It did not seem right to her to abandon such a sacred location. Her own people were known for their love of life and kindness to others, but even to her mind it was wrong to leave such a place to be destroyed by… whatever it was that was looming before them. She considered it while idly admiring a tetsubo, one of the many weapons left behind by those who had embraced the teachings of this place, but she could not find resolution. What was the life of someone such as her, someone living with disgrace, in comparison to this place? Why should it be abandoned and her life spared?

A noise from behind her. “Are you prepared, brother?” she asked. “I have to be honest, I am struggling with…” But there was no monk behind her when she turned around. Instead, there stood a creature, an unmistakable manifestation of something she had seen rendered in countless paintings, sculptures, and tapestries throughout the shrine.

It was the Ki-Rin.

“Grandmother watch over me,” Reyo croaked, but she felt no fear. It was as if she were staring into the next world, so great was the otherworldly essence of the creature standing only a few feet away. Almost beyond her control, she dropped to her knees on the cool cobblestone floor. “You… all of your kind are said to be gone from this world,” she croaked.

The world, the creature said, its exquisite face never changing, is more than what mortals can understand. The dark ritual that brought the Rain claimed my life, or the life of my sister. We are one and the same. We are both and neither. Alive and dead. None of the terms mean what you believe they mean.

Reyo stared at it in fascination. “I do not understand.”

It matters little, the Ki-Rin said. You live with a burden that is not yours. A burden you share with another.

“My sister,” she whispered. “We are both… our parents… they…”

It is wrong that it should be visited upon you. Its voice was like music, like the song of the Heavens. Your soul is pure. Your greatest wish is to find absolution, not for yourself, but for your sister.

“Yes,” she said, a tear running down her cheek. “I would spare her this.”

That is possible, if you wish it, the Ki-Rin said. The cost will be great.

“Anything,” she said.

She waited until the advancing force approached the northern pass. It was the only means by which the shrine could be approached from the north, at least without spending days or weeks having an army scale the cliffs that separated the shrine from the Phoenix and Dragon lands. She patted her horse affectionately, feeling certain it would be the last time they rode together. And in her other hand, Reyo hefted the tetsubo she found in the temple. She knew what it was for. She only hoped she would be strong enough. Strong enough for her sister. Strong enough for Meyko.

When the first scouts from the army came into the pass, Reyo charged. She rode toward them with reckless abandon, a familiar Unicorn war cry filling her lungs. The first crossbow bolts cut her cry short, made it hard for her to find her breath. More bolts struck her, one in the shoulder, one in the stomach, one grazing her face as she rode. Fortunately they did not think to fire upon the horse.

The Yobanjin stopped firing when she changed her approach, making it clear that she was not riding toward them. They paused to reload their crossbows, staring at one another in confusion.

In a strangely detached manner, Reyo considered the circumstances. In the winter, the snow melted, seeped into the rock of the cliffs, and froze again. It made them prone to terrible landslides, at least until the final snows were passed, and the Phoenix sent their earth shugenja to tend to the land and keep it safe. But that hadn’t happened yet.

Reyo rode to the wall and pulled her horse alongside it, running parallel to the stone. She struck the wall again and again with the tetsubo, using every ounce of her remaining strength. The scouts realized what she was doing and began shouting, firing at her again. Their shots were wild, panicked, and for good reason. The earth around them was trembling, shaking with the force of an impending cataclysm. Reyo struck a few more times and then struggled for the energy to release her war cry once more. Her breath caught in her throat.

She fell from her horse.

The world broke around her.

* * *

The Yobanjin army fell back, and fell back again, forced away from the city by the spearhead led by Dun and his Lion honor guard. Every street that they regained, their numbers were joined by more and more Shinjo samurai, rallying from units that had been broken and scattered. What’s more, the people of the city, those few who remained, took up whatever weapons they could, some carrying the weapons of fallen Yobanjin and others simple farming implements, and joined the ranks. The Shinjo had ever been kind and generous masters, and now the fruit of their kindness was made manifest. Dun’s heart swelled with pride as he saw a trio of young men, no more than teenagers, bring down a pair of Yobajin with little more than crude sticks gathered from the wreckage of a building the raiders had destroyed.

“Dun!”

The officer turned in the direction of his Lion comrades. Mari was pointing to a building nearby. “Your family’s chop!”

With a dawning sense of horror, Dun turned and saw the estate to which the Matsu was pointing. The chaos of the battle had been so overwhelming that he had not realized his proximity to his family’s personal estate. An estate that was now smoldering from within. “No!” Dun shouted. “Brother! Mother!” He looked back at the fighting, then to his family’s estate again.

“Go,” Mari said. “We will hold the line.”

With a grateful nod, Dun broke into a run. He did not slow as he approached the building, however, instead hurtling through the battered shoji screen that hung before the entrance with his blade drawn, losing none of his momentum. “Brother!” he shouted again. “Shun!”

“Dun,” the reply came, but far too weakly. One of the raiders held his brother by the kimono, its front staining rapidly with blood. “Too many… run…”

Dun’s speed was incredible, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. His rage, his fear, lent him speed. He crossed the room in an instant, shouldering the raider aside and leaving his brother on the floor. “Dun,” he croaked again, and was still.

 ”No!” Dun shouted. He took his brother’s blade, a blade he had given him only hours earlier, and charged. In his right he held the blade of his sensei, and in the left the blade of his grandfather. The raider was on his feet already, turning with malevolence in his eyes. The look faded to surprise when Dun plunged both blades into his heart. “My brother is worth a thousand of you!” he hissed. “Ten thousand!”

More of the raiders emerged from within the house. “Unfortunate that you will die to such a meager number of us,” one of them said. “But then, you people believe you will be together again in the next life, don’t you? Convenient.”

“Yes, but not for you.” Mari and a half dozen Lion appeared in the gaping hole at the estate’s eastern wall. At her gesture, the unleashed a volley of arrows that cut down the entire group. She turned and bowed before Dun. “Every life claimed by the Lion in this battle is in honor of your family, Dun-sama. We cannot return your brother to you,” she gestured to where Shun lay unmoving on the ground, “but you have many brothers who will stand at your side.”

Dun said nothing for several moments. Finally, he lifted both blades in salute. “For the Lion,” he said.

“For the Unicorn,” she returned.

* * *

Isawa Nomi awake from the dream with a scream in her throat. The leering face had been almost upon her, and no matter how far or how fast she had run, she could not escape it. It had drawn closer and closer, at first a sinister, aged countenance that had frightened her as a child, but growing young as it approached. Somehow, its new youthful appearance was far more terrifying. She had never seen the man’s face when he was young, but somehow she knew it had never been so sinister, so horrific. She knew the old man’s face quite well, though. It haunted her now, constantly surfacing in her dreams to plague her, and she did not know why. His name hung in her name like a shadow, threatening her very sanity until she was afraid to even speak it aloud, fearful that he might somehow appear and claim her as his own.

“Fosuta,” she whispered defiantly in the cool evening darkness. “Isawa Fosuta.”

The simple act of refuting her fears made her feel stronger, and she exhaled shakily as she tried to calm her racing heart. The death of her maternal uncle over a year ago had affected her profoundly, and she wondered if it was his zeal for hunting his wayward brother down, his passion to correct the stain upon the honor of their family, that had caused her to begin experience such vivid, horrifying nightmares. Nomi wistfully wished that she could get a good night’s sleep. It had been months since her last.

Nomi glanced at her writing desk, considering whether there was any point in trying to go back to sleep. The dreams would come again, of that she had little doubt. It might be best to while away the long hours before dawn in something more productive. Perhaps those letters she had been avoiding, or the arrangements that the Phoenix had made to bring additional supplies to Kyuden Bayushi in order to assist in defraying the burden of supporting the court since it had been held over for months beyond its normal cessation. Or then there was…

Wait. Why was it light outside?

Nomi frowned and rose from her mat at once. She had always possessed an exceptional sense of time’s passage, and she was certain, without question, that morning had not come. What then could cause such a glow from beyond the screen in the courtyard? She had no notion. Nomi quickly crossed the room and threw open the screen.

The priestess fell away from the screen in surprise and alarm, a strangled cry all that she could manage. There was a brilliant, radiant light filling the courtyard beyond her room, but it was not the sun. Something incredible was present within the garden. Why could the sentries not see it?

Nomi, a voice called. Nomi, come.

She climbed to her feet, huge, wracking sobs shaking her entire body. This was more than her dreams. She should be consumed with terror, and yet she felt jubilant. Her eyes streamed with tears and she could not stop smiling, but she did not know why. After what seemed like an hour, she managed to reach her feet and drag her gaze back into the courtyard.

The most majestic creature Nomi had ever seen stood amid the hedges. It was similar to a horse, but not quite. She had seen depictions of ki-rin her entire life, it had been one of her mother’s favorite subjects, but the reality of what she was seeing was so far beyond even the most beautiful drawing she had ever seen. Nomi, the thing said, its voice filling her mind like a song, remember her.

“Who?” she gasped. “Remember who?”

Remember her, the ki-rin repeated. Remember her to the others.

And then it was gone, disappeared in a flash so bright that it was as if she had looked at the sun itself. She cried out again and looked away, rubbing her eyes. Visions filled her mind as the light blinded her momentarily, and when her sight returned, she scrambled across the room, knocking everything out of her way until she reached the paper and brushes she needed.

* * *

The air reeked of smoke as dozens of buildings burned out of control. There was little sound save for the crackling of flames consuming all in their path, and the cries of the wounded as they were moved from harm’s way in order to wait for the shugenja and herbalists that were on the way to try and save as many as possible. The city that surrounded Shiro Shinjo was in ruins, at least half of it destroyed utterly by the fighting, and the other have seriously imperiled by the blaze that continued to consume it.

But the castle itself remained untouched.

Matsu Mari approached, giving curt orders to her junior officers. She bowed crisply to Dun. “Do we pursue?”

Dun gripped his blade tightly. The handle was slippery with blood from the wound on his shoulder, which had run the length of his blade and slickened the metal. He looked after the retreating Yobanjin with longing. “No,” he said bitterly. “We have too few forces remaining, and we cannot leave the castle undefended. It could be a feint to draw us away while reinforcements strike, or some other ploy.”

Mari nodded, looking toward the enemy’s ranks wistfully. “As you say. Zeal should not precipitate weakness.”

“I had thought the Army of Fire fought until death,” Dun said. “Strange that they should fall back after failing to reach the castle.”

“The army has suffered significant losses,” Mari said. “Some estimates I have read believe as much of a third of the army may have already been destroyed, both through small-unit attrition and at major engagements such as Kyuden Isawa, Shiro Mirumoto, and Shiro Tamori.” She shrugged. “Chosai may not care for the rate at which his army dies, but I am certain his commanders do. This was a tactical retreat.”

“Dun-sama!” A scout came riding down the street, calling his name. “Dun-sama! The army turns!”

Dun swore. “Are they coming about to attack from a different vector?”

“No,” the scout called. “They are circling around the city and pressing farther into Unicorn territory!”

“No!” Dun said. He looked around at the others, but the wounded vastly outnumbered those able to give pursuit. “We cannot let them threaten the other holdings!”

Mari shook her head. “There is little you can do at this point, Dun-sama. We must regroup at the castle and assess your strength. Then, if you wish, the Lion will assist in whatever manner possible”

“To the castle!” Dun shouted. “All ready troops fall back to the castle!”

* * *

            The victory at Shiro Shinjo, following so closely on the heels of at least a stalemate at Shiro Mirumoto and Shiro Tamori, was welcome news indeed to the assembled attendants of the Empress’ court. The mood for the day was jubilant, almost as if a festival had been declared. Shiba Yoma smiled and spoke quietly to several individuals among the delegations, selecting those he knew were among the most appreciative and most interested in the arts, as well as some of the most critical. If he was to create a new sensation, something that could benefit his clan, he needed the proper mix of opinions. “Nomi-san.”

            The young shugenja was badly distracted, and glanced at him in surprise. “Yes?”

            “I require your assistance,” Yoma said. “Please bring that box,” he gestured to a large wooden writing kit, “and come with me, will you please?”

            “Of course,” she said at once. She lifted the case and followed behind him. The returned to his quarters and she waited outside as he retrieved a few items from within, then he led her to the principle audience chamber of court, not currently in use because the Empress was not present. Roughly a dozen people were waiting on the two of them, just as Yoma expected. “What is this, Yoma-sama?” Nomi asked quietly.

            “Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Yoma said, not addressing her question. She would see soon enough. “I have something I want to share with you, something incredible, and I did not yet wish to share it with the court at large. This is something that should be savored by those who have an appreciation for such things, before it is shared with the court at large.” He took the box from Nomi with a quiet thanks. “It was brought to my attention this morning, and I took the liberty of bringing it along without consulting the responsible party.” He waved his hand. “A breach of etiquette, I know, but this is a matter I have no choice but to feel very strongly about. If you would give me but a moment, please.”

            Yoma carefully removed a number of small items from a low table, placing them atop an adjoining table. He then opened the wooden box and removed a carefully rolled sheet of paper, which he then spread atop the table.

            “Yoma-sama!” Nomi gasped.

            The others gasped as well, although for very different reasons. The painting that  Yoma had removed from Nomi’s chambers was unlike any he had ever seen before, and when the yojimbo who had seen it reported it to him, he had know he must see it for himself. Looking upon it, he had known in an instant it was not meant to be hidden away, but shared with the world. “My esteemed colleague, Isawa Nomi, painted this magnificent tableau last evening, if I am correct.”

            “By the Fortunes,” one of the Crane in attendance said. “I have never seen any depiction of the ki-rin with such detail! And this image, this woman who is superimposed into the image… who is it? She has such tranquility, such beauty. Nomi-sama, please, tell us about this painting!”

            Nomi stared around the room with an expression like horror. “I… I… I do not know,” she said. “I had a dream, or… perhaps a vision. I saw the Ki-Rin. I saw it, and it showed me the image of a woman who sacrificed herself to save its temple. It told me… told me to remember her. To help others remember her.”

            “So incredible,” the Crane repeated.

            “Indeed it is.”

            Yoma and the others turned to see the Empress and her Voice standing near the doorway that led to the Empress’ dais. “I have seen the Shrine of the Ki-Rin,” Togashi Satsu said. “It has been my great pleasure to visit that sacred sight many times. Never have I seen anything that captured the serenity of the shrine, however. This thing, this painting you have created, must surely have been inspired by the Heavens.”

            The Empress said nothing, but walked calmly across the room to regard the paintings. The others parted for her to pass, kneeling as she drew near. Iweko admired the painting for several moments, then turned and favored Nomi with a smile as she wiped a single tear from her cheek. Then she turned and left the room without a word, Satsu following behind her.

            “Fortunes,” one of the Crane said in a hushed whisper.

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Nebraska Kotei Winners

Military: Matt Butterfield (Unicorn)

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Moto XXX
2/3
-/7/2
Unicorn Clan * Samurai * Cavalry * Commander
Reaction: After an action resolves that XXX performed, if he is opposed: Give a target Personality or Follower in XXX’s army +3F.

Utaku XXX
4/2
4/9/3
Unicorn Clan * Samurai * Cavalry * Battle Maiden 
XXX has +1F while attacking for each other Battle Maiden in her army.
Battle: Give a target enemy Personality a Force penalty equal to XXX’s Personal Honor.

The War of Dark Fire, Part 8

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

            Akodo Shigetoshi had never been an admirer of the Dragon lands. Too many mountains, too much instability. How could a proper defense be mounted when the terrain could be altered by a single shugenja with sufficient dedication to the task? It might prove interesting as an exercise, of course, but when it was a situation that truly mattered, such an element of chance was highly undesirable. And there were very few situations in the Empire’s history that had mattered quite so much as this one.

            Shiro Mirumoto loomed ahead on the horizon. The air was thick with the haze of battle, and the smell of charred bodies. It was a smell that Shigetoshi had become accustomed to over the past few weeks. Even as far south as Shiro Kitsuki, it wafted on the wind from the north. It had given weight to the reports of violence and bloodshed that had previously been little more than paper in his hand. The eager clamoring of his men, ready for battle, had been quieted by it, and it had been replaced with grim determination.

            “My lord.” One of his command staff stepped forward. “You should remain here and allow us to investigate the scene of that battle.”

            “Under no circumstances will I allow that,” the Clan Champion said. “I will be at the forefront of this conflict from the moment of the first engagement. Is that clear, Sadahige?”

            The officer bowed. “As you command, my lord.”

            The Lion rode forward, and with each step, Shigetoshi’s hopes of discovering any sign of life faded. The stone was blackened so much that it appeared the entire castle was hewn from obsidian. Many of its defenses were in absolute disarray, and there were numerous breaches in the wall surrounding it. One of its towers looked as if it might crumble at any moment. Shigetoshi offered a prayer for those who had doubtless perished in its defense. “Surround the castle,” he ordered as they approached. “Search for any survivors among the fallen. Save them if you can, but if you cannot, send them to their ancestors in a manner befitting men of honor. And if…”

            The Lion Champion was cut off by a loud groaning sound. Shigetoshi drew his blade in a flawless, instinctive motion as one of the gates tottered dangerously on its hinges, then finally swung open without falling. The dust and smoke from within masked the identity of those emerging. “Archers ready,” Shigetoshi said calmly. “Shieldmen to the front.”

            “I have seen this in many plays,” a voice called out from the haze. “The Lion on the doorstep of the Dragon. This is not quite how I imagined that it would take place, however. I am pleased to find I was mistaken.”

            Shigetoshi signaled his men to stand down. “Kei-san? Is that you?”

            Mirumoto Kei stepped forward. Her armor hung from her in tatters, and looked as though it would fall from her in pieces in any moment. Her face was smeared with ash and blood, and she had haphazard bandages that covered a half-dozen wounds. “I am glad to see you, Shigetoshi.”

            The Lion Champion glanced beyond her into the courtyard. “Your home still stands. How many of your men remain?”

            “Too few,” Kei admitted. “No more than two hundred at most.”

            “That any are alive is a testament to your command,” Shigetoshi said. “And your foes?”

            “Many died,” she said. “The others apparently determined that the siege was too costly. They finally withdrew after they were unable to capitalize upon the breaches in our defenses. We pushed them out.” She paused and looked at the heavily armored front line. “Did you call them ‘shieldmen?’ Are those not the metal plates that the Unicorn use on occasion?”

            “It is a term we have adopted based on tactics we have been studying,” Shigetoshi said. “It relates to their role, not their equipment.” He glanced around. “How long until you can marshal your forces? I imagine they are divided somewhat, given the sheer size of the territory you are attempting to defend.”

            “Too long,” Kei said. “Are your forces ready to march?”

            “No Lion is ever unready to march,” Shigetoshi answered. “Why do you ask?”

            “Because the Yobanjin marched south,” Kei replied. “I believe they were heading directly toward Shiro Tamori, and they have a considerable lead. There are no major Dragon encampments between here and there.”

            “Perhaps the Right Hand of the Empire will suffice,” Shigetoshi said. He turned to Sadahige. “Give Kei-san your horse.”

* * *

The Imperial Chancellor turned to the assembled attendants after bowing to the Empress, who had just taken her seat behind the screen on her dais. “The Empress and her advisors are of course in regular contact with those on the front lines,” he said, “but it is her desire to hear if anyone among her court has received news from your clans that might be of interest to this august body.”

Ide Eien stepped forward and bowed before the Chancellor. The Ide daimyo seemed far paler than usual, and his expression lacked the normal effervescent smile that he wore at all times. “I have received word that the city of Akami has been attacked,” he said in a subdued tone. “It was believed that the Yobanjin who laid waste to Bikami had withdrawn and fragmented into the many patrols that have been plaguing the area. Unfortunately it now appears that this was only partially correct. A significant portion of the force remained within the mountains, observing the actions of the Unicorn military. When the patrols in the area had been eradicated and the focus of Junghar shifted to attempting to reclaim the northern border, the Yobanjin descended from the mountains behind our front line and assaulted Akami.”

“Akami is the most significant center of food production the Unicorn have remaining,” Asako Kanta said, clearly horrified. “Where does this assault leave your people? What was the result?”

“The result was catastrophic,” Eien admitted. “The Yobanjin’s priority was ensuring that no one escaped to alert the military, else their siege would have been brief. Thousands were murdered. Much of the city burned, as have so many others.”

“I grieve for the loss of your kinsmen,” Kitsu Kiyoko said. “I must also wonder, however, what the acquisition of such a large amount of supplies means for the capabilities of the Army of Fire. They could now, in theory, continue operations behind our front lines despite the constant destruction of their supply lines in the Dragon lands.”

“Although it means almost certain disaster for my people, I am pleased at least to report that will not be an issue,” Eien continued. “While the guardians of the city fought valiantly, they were outnumbered and eventually killed. When the last of them fell, a samurai visiting the city who fought alongside them, took it upon himself to set fire to the storehouses in order to deny them to the Yobanjin.” Eien lowered his gaze. “The Unicorn do not blame him for this, even though the possibility of starvation is now very real.”

“Who was responsible for such an act?” Kanta inquired.

“I do not know his name,” Eien said. “I know only that he was a Lion, and that he claimed the lives of many, many enemies. I know that he lived, and that he hunts them still in the mountains. Alone.”

“A Deathseeker,” Kiyoko said. “May his soul find redemption.”

“I know that our people are facing an implacable foe that will not submit,” Kanta said, “but I find the celebration of death difficult to embrace regardless of circumstance. The Phoenix chooses life instead.” He bowed to Eien. “The Agasha provinces have enjoyed a bountiful harvest this past season. The Phoenix will gladly share what abundance we have with the Unicorn, to ease your burden.” He bowed very deeply before the Ide.

Ide Eien started to reply, but only nodded, as if he did not trust himself to speak.

The scene was interrupted as a young attendant entered and made her way through the assembled court quickly. She was silent, but her demeanor and expression made it obvious that the matter was severe. She whispered something to one of the Dragon attendants after bowing, and then she withdrew.

“If I may,” Kitsuki Berii said, his voice gravelly. He bowed to the court. “We have just received word from one of our kinsmen that Shiro Tamori has been besieged.”

* * *

            The attack at Shiro Tamori could not have come at a worse time. Under normal circumstances, the castle was lightly defended at best, and often had only a minimal contingent of Mirumoto sentries who were present largely as a formality. Who would dare attack a castle built at the base of a volcano, and one that would require marching an army multiple days through some of the most jagged mountains in the world? It was a preposterous notion, and yet it had become reality

            With the ever-increasing activity of Yobanjin raids throughout the Dragon provinces, the forces defending Shiro Tamori had been increased. Only a short time ago, however, the attack at Shiro Mirumoto had caused Tamori Shimura to send most of his defenders as reinforcements for that great battle, leaving the castle quite lightly defended indeed. And now, it seemed, he would pay the price for his selflessness.

            “What do we know for certain?” the gruff voice of Tamori Wotan asked.

            “The attacking force comes from the direction of Shiro Mirumoto,” Shimura answered. “It is smaller than reports of the army that allegedly attacked there, so we can assume that it is a separate force, that it is the force that attacked there and has been driven away, in which case the Mirumoto are likely pursuing them, or it could be that the castle has fallen and they are pressing the advantage.”

            “Hmm,” Wotan mused, rubbing his chin. “It is possible that they failed to take the castle, but that the Mirumoto forces were too weary to pursue. We cannot assume assistance is coming.”

            “I have no such delusions,” Shimura said. “We must assume we are on our own. Regardless of the enemy’s reduced strength, there are too many for us to combat on our own, and their brand of twisted sorcery may well render the advantage we possess due to the sheer number of shugenja occupants a moot point.”

            Wotan frowned. “You seem resigned to defeat.”

            “No,” Shimura corrected. “I am realistic about our chance. I have no intention of abandoning our home, but we must have a plan in place in the event that defeat is inevitable.”

            “Defeat,” Wotan sneered. “Would you have us sacrifice our own home to prevent the enemy from taking it? Like the mewling Phoenix?”

            “Never like the Phoenix, no. The only acceptable reason to sacrifice the castle would be if, in doing so, we destroyed them all,” Shimura answered evenly. “Is that not one of the lessons you taught me? Victory, no matter the cost? It is a principle my mother understood very well.”

            The old man grunted. “Perhaps you were paying attention after all.”

            Shimura smirked. “Come with me, sensei. You will want to see this.” The two men entered one of the outer chambers where a group of others waited. “I believe you know the Phoenix envoy to our family, an associate of my late father as I recall, and another of our guests, the grand-nephew of the former Master of Earth, Isawa Sachi. As you can see, he remained a member of the Hare Clan.”

            “Good day,” the Phoenix said with a bow. “I am Isawa Nakajima, my lords.”

            The Hare bowed as well. “I am Usagi Sachiken, my lords, named for my uncle. It is my great pleasure to meet you both.”

            Wotan nodded very slightly to the Hare and offered the Phoenix little more than a baleful glare. “I was unaware that we had guests.”

            “Yes, sensei, your duties keep you quite busy,” Shimura said. “Most of our guests returned home when the fighting began, weeks ago. These venerable priests remained to continue their studies.” He nodded slightly. “You will understand, honored guests, if I must insist that you depart. I will not have the Dragon bear the brunt of your families’ dismay should the fighting claim your lives.”

            “I would gladly assist in the castle’s defense, my lord,” Sachiken said eagerly.

            Shimura raised a hand. “I thank you, but that is not an acceptable option. If your eagerness is genuine, however, then I do have a favor to ask of you.”

            “Of course, Nakajima said. “Anything.”

            “I have prepared several of our family’s most sacred works,” Shimura said. “Our greatest research and most important formulae. They must not be lost, regardless of the circumstances. It is my wish that you would escort them to the Imperial Court, that the Empress might take them into her possession.”

            The Hare was obviously disappointed, but the Phoenix bowed again. “If that is your wish, then it will be done. We are greatly honored by your display of trust.”

            “Trust,” Wotan scoffed. “How unlikely.”

            “Enough, sensei, this is not the time,” Shimura chided. “There will be a time, make no mistake, but this is not it.” He turned back to the two shugenja. “We have an escort prepared for you.”

            Sachiken frowned. “Forgive me, my lord, but if your home is to be attacked, will you not need every available man? We can fend for ourselves if it means extra hands to defend your family’s estate.”

            “Considerate, but unnecessary,” Shimura said as two Unicorn samurai entered the room. “This is Shinjo Naota and Utaku Anhui. They are scouts from the Unicorn Junghar, and apparently they and their colleagues are active throughout the Dragon lands at the moment.”

            “Is that so?” Wotan rumbled.

            “No less than a dozen patrols are currently deployed within the Dragon lands, gathering as much information on the enemy as possible,” Naota confirmed.

            “Under normal circumstances, I would take significant issue with that information,” Shimura said. “Unfortunately, we do not have that luxury at the moment. You and your patrol…”

            “We are all that remains,” Anhui said darkly.

            “Apologies,” Shimura continued. “You two must escort these men and their precious cargo to the Imperial Court. In doing so, you will earn amnesty for any of your men who are captured by our Mirumoto cousins during the course of this conflict?”

            “Amnesty?” Naota asked. “Why would amnesty be required?”

            “The Dragon have had a rash of border invasions of late,” Shimura said. “The meddling Mantis were first, and now a vast army of gaijin. Many of your clansmen, primarily the Moto, have features that might cause them to be confused for Yobanjin, do they not? And could a Yobanjin not have killed one of your patrols and taken your armor? No, I think the possibility of requiring amnesty might be quite real, wouldn’t you say? Not that any clan requires a reason to take offense at others within their borders without permission.”

            “Of course,” Naota said. “When do we leave, Tamori-sama?”

            “Immediately,” Shimura answered. “We have less than two hours.”

* * *

A sympathetic murmur rippled through the crowd as the news was presented before the court. Ide Towako, her hair still damp from the cleansing bath she had taken immediately after returning to Kyuden Bayushi from the Unicorn lands, nodded appreciatively toward those muttering in indignation at the news. “I know that you feel the pain of yet another loss, honorable attendants of the Empress’ court,” she said, “and I feel the burden of bringing such news to you very keenly, but there is reason to celebrate as well, for even in the loss of Yashigi did the vassals of the Khan claim some measure of victory.”

“I would welcome such news,” one of the Scorpion delegates said. “Please, share with us the tale of your people’s heroism.”

Towako bowed again. “News of the attack reached the village less than two hours beforehand when one of the Khan’s many patrols detected the enemy’s movement toward the south. Fortunately, this allowed much of the town’s resources to be evacuated to avoid being captured. Unfortunately, however, Yashigi was a relatively small town, and could offer nothing significant in the way of a defense against the Yobanjin. The scout commander knew this, and knew that there was no way to save the city. The commander’s name was Ide Shinji, cousin of my lord Ide Eien.”

Many looked to Eien, who sat motionless at one of the Unicorn delegation’s tables. His face was paler than ever, and he had a haunted expression. As others turned their attention back to Towako, Yoritomo Sachina gestured to one of her attendants, then slipped in to sit at the table next to Eien and began speaking to him quietly. He gave no sign of having noticed.

“Shinji-sama concealed his unit within the jade mine that was Yashigi’s principle source of income, reasoning that the Yobanjin would likely not even recognize it was there, and certainly would not risk sending men into a mine when food and supplies were their greater goal,” Towako continued. “As the enemy passed, Shiji led his small group in a valiant charge, armed with jade dust that coated their weapons.”

“Jade dust?” Moshi Minami asked. “Are we given to understand that the power of jade affects the Yobanjin? Is the Dark Oracle’s hold over them sufficient to make them susceptible to its touch? I have heard nothing of this.”

“With respect, my lady, I do not know,” Towako admitted. “I know only that Shinji and his men charged the enemy formation and, thanks to the element of surprise, they broke through the ranks and struck at the Yobanjin command group. The commander of the army and his officers were killed before Shinji and his men were overrun.” She bowed her head. “The Khan has declared Shinji a hero of our clan, and it is my great honor to bring his story to you.” She paused for effect. “It is also my pleasure to inform you that the war banner of the Yobanjin was claimed, and Shinji’s second in command fled the battle with it, at Shinji-sama’s command. It is now in the hands of the Iuichi, who hope to use it to gain some insight into the nature of the sinister enchantments the Dark Oracle has placed upon our enemies.”

“The Empress is grieved to hear of more deaths among her people,” the Voice of the Empress said, “but she is overjoyed at the courage and the tenacity of her servants among the Unicorn. The Khan and his people have greatly pleased the Divine Empress with their refusal to succumb in the face of many terrible losses.”

Towako bowed deeply. “Thank you, great Empress. It may please you further to know that I was witness to the arrival of papers from the Imperial City that informed the Khan that the Emerald Champion had granted him leave to march his army to the north. I have no doubt that the Khan will purge not only the Unicorn lands of its enemies, but the mountains north as well. The Yobanjin shall be crushed between the hammer that is the Khan, and the anvil that is the Dragon Clan.”

There was a moment of silence as the various attendants looked at one another uncertainly. Finally, the massive Yasuki Takai grunted. “The Khan marches. Hmph. Good news, I suppose, but you must admit that phrase now has certain… connotations.”

“When the Khan stands shoulder to shoulder with Mirumoto Kei, Akodo Shigetoshi, and Hida Benjiro on the plains of battle, victorious, then the connotations to which you refer will no longer exist,” Towako said confidently.

“We shall see, I suppose,” Takai said with a shrug.

“The notion of the clans evaluating one another by their successes rather than their misdeeds is a notion that pleases the Empress tremendously,” the Voice of the Empire said with a nod to Towako. “Likewise the show of solidarity between the Phoenix and the Unicorn warms the Divine One’s heart. She wishes to know if others feel the same sense of brotherhood, that they might step forward and ease the pain of their kinsmen among the Unicorn Clan.”

“The Mantis live to serve the Empress,” Yoritomo Sachina said at once, rising from her seat to bow before the throne and address the court. “The Unicorn and Mantis have long been allies, and the pain of their plight touches our hearts. Even now, Unicorn and Mantis fight together in the northernmost Badger lands, harrying our enemy’s forces as the Shogun’s army marches north along Exile’s Road. It is only through our mutual cooperation that the last remaining Badger fortifications remain intact, hopefully long enough for the great Moto Jin-sahn to visit the Empress’ judgment upon the Yobanjin.” She gestured for her attendant, who had returned with an elaborate box, to step forward. “More that one thousand years ago, the Unicorn departed the Empire to fulfill the first Emperor’s mandate of exploration. Before they left, Otaku Yashigi commissioned a gift for a favored vassal, one who would remain behind to watch for the Ki-Rin’s return. When the Kitsune people were driven from the Ki-rin’s lands, this gift was taken as well, and has remained with the family of the Fox ever since. Now, in light of the horrors that the Unicorn have suffered, it is the wish of the Kitsune and the Mantis that this exquisite gift return to the clan who created it, that they might replace devastation with beauty and joy.” Sachina bowed as the case was opened, and many within the room gasped at the beauty of the jade tea set contained within. “Nothing would please us more than for the Unicorn to accept our gift.”

            Towako smiled and began to respond, but Eien interrupted. “This was a gift,” he said in a quiet voice. “It was meant for the Kitsune. With the Kitsune it should remain.”

            “It is a treasure of the Unicorn,” Sachina countered. “The Kitsune have been greatly honored to watch over it, but it is time it returned home.”

            “Your generosity is greatly appreciated, but even such a treasure cannot replace the… the fallen.”

            “Of course not,” Sachina said softly. “Nor would we expect it to. But at the least it can remind you, and your kinsmen, of the beauty and sanctity of that which they died to protect. Please, take it.”

            Eien was silent for a moment, then smiled softly and nodded.

* * *

The battle for Shiro Tamori went poorly.

Despite the large number of shugenja present at the castle during the time of the attack, the strengths of the Tamori were in soliciting the kami of fire and of earth. Ironic that their enemies should be immune to fire because of their master’s blessings, Shimura reflected, and their own brand of barbaric shamanism afforded them some degree of protection against earth as well. In that regard the two forces were, if not evenly, then very closely matched. It negated the advantage the Tamori possessed, and without it, the enemy’s sheer numerical superiority was perhaps too great to overcome.

Wotan emerged onto the balcony where Shimura had come to overlook the battle’s progress. “What news?” he demanded.

“Word reached Shiro Kitsuki,” Shimura said. “Hida Benjiro has deployed the entirety of his cavalry forces to aid in our defense. They are not as swift as the Unicorn, but they know mountains far better. They are the fastest possible relief force we can hope to expect.”

Wotan looked upon the battle below them. “They will not be soon enough.”

“No,” Shimura agreed. “Not by a wide margin. The castle will be breached within the hour. Possibly within minutes.”

The old sensei’s ichor-smeared shoulders quivered in rage. “We cannot permit them to take the castle!”

“Our options are quite limited,” Shimura said. “If we continue to fight, we will lose the entirety of our defenders, and the castle will fall. If we retreat to save the lives of our people, the castle will be taken and possibly held, which will give the Yobanjin a stronghold around which to rally and wage war on the southern Dragon lands. If we destroy the castle, then they will simply pursue our forces, slaughter them, and choose a new target.” He shook his head. “I can see but a single option. It is not what I would choose, but I believe it would be my mother’s choice. Perhaps she would have done it from the beginning.”

“I know your mind, child,” Wotan said. “You will not do this thing. I will not permit you to sacrifice yourself.”

“Someone must,” Shimura said. “We must allow them within the castle, and then bring it down upon them. Magic of that power cannot be wielded by just anyone. For a feat of such magnitude, the kami demand a great price. Who among us can pay it? Should I demand the death of another?”

“I will do it,” Wotan said.

“I will never allow that,” Shimura answered flatly.

Wotan frowned, then froze. “There is another way!”

Shimura glanced at him in surprise, then listened carefully to what he proposed. “Can that even be done?” he asked. “Could it be controlled? We could both die!”

“And we could both live,” Wotan insisted. “The choice is yours.”

The young daimyo thought for a long moment, watching as the Dragon fought against all odds to protect their home. “What if they are immune?”

“No one is immune to such as this,” Wotan said. “No one.”

Shimura clenched the railing very tightly. “Very well,” he said. He turned to one of the signalmen that had been following him since the battle began. “Signal the retreat. Abandon the castle. Volunteers only remain behind to hold the line. Make sure they understand that time is short.” He turned back to the old man. “Let us go and wage war in the style of my mother, sensei.”

From high on the side of the mountain onto which Shiro Tamori had been constructed, Wotan and Shimuro watched mutely as the Yobanjin stormed the walls of the castle and laid waste to anything within. The stream of Dragon fleeing south had finally come to an end as everyone who could, or would, escape had done so. Any who remained behind at this point were lost, by choice or by fate. That so many had remained behind filled Shimura’s heart with a mixture of pride and grief. Now, they simply waited for the enemy to file completely into the castle.

“The rage about like animals,” Shimura said. “There is no strategy to their actions save destruction.”

“They are barely men any longer,” Wotan said. “Their master’s poison has made them mad. They are his animals, his hunting beasts. Few among them even remember what it is like to make war properly. Their commander will allow them to rage for a time and then bring them to heel before they damage the castle any further.” He glanced at his student. “Your assessment was right, I think. They will make our home their stronghold.”

“No,” Shimura said. “They will not.”

“Focus, child,” Wotan said as they began the ritual. “Bringing this power to bear is not the difficult part. Regaining control once it has tasted blood is the part that will give us pause.”

The two men concentrated, lost in communion with the spirits of the mountain around them. Minutes passed, first a few, then more. Shimura’s features were twisted in exertion and discomfort, and sweat drenched his brow despite the cool mountain winds. He wondered if the task was as difficult for Wotan, but he dared not break concentration to look; to do so was to invite disaster on a scale such as he had never seen since his childhood.

Slowly, there was a great rumble from beneath them that built gradually, growing louder and louder. Shimura could hear the music of stones cascading down the mountain as it rumbled and shook, but still he did not focus. At his direction and that of Wotan, a great tunnel tore itself open in the mountain, the stone parting like cracked leather.

A sea of molten lava erupted from within the tunnel, flowing down the mountain with unmistakable hunger and menace. Shimura could hear a few panicked screams from the Yobanjin within the castle, and then it was too late. The molten rock surged over the walls and into the courtyards, filling every available space and opening with slow, inexorable purpose. Its purpose was death.

“That’s enough,” Wotan groaned. “We must convince the earth to seal itself, or the entire mountain will awaken!”

The act of closing the doorway of stone was more difficult than opening it, and by the time the groaning and rumbling finally stopped, Shimura was as weak as an infant. He slumped to the ground, his entire body wet with sweat and shaking with weakness from the exertion. “We did it,” he croaked. “They are defeated.”

Below them, Shiro Tamori seethed in a cauldron of liquid stone, slowly twisting and collapsing in its funeral pyre.

* * *

Shinjo Genki glanced over the scroll quickly, skimming it for important details. Fortunately, it was quite brief, and given the obvious haste with which it was written, she assumed that the scout who had penned it had been on the run while it was written, or perhaps wounded. She hoped it was the former rather than the latter. “So the remnants of the forces that attacked Yashigi and Akami have combined and are en route here,” she said to the commander of the patrol who had delivered it. “How many do they number?”

            The officer shook his head. “I could not say, my lady. Their ranks were being joined by smaller patrols that were converging in their path every mile or so. Any estimates I could offer would have no semblance of accuracy. I apologize for my failure.”

            “None of that,” she said sharply. “I need every samurai who can carry a blade clear headed and ready to wage war on our enemies. If you insist upon heaping blame on yourself, do it after you see whether or not you survive.” She handed the scroll back to him. “How soon will they arrive?”

            “Equally impossible to say,” the commander reported with a grimace. “My patrol could outdistance them easily, but they move faster than any force of such a size I have ever seen, barring our own. I think…” he hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and continued, “I think the fire they wield burns inside them, driving them forward. I can see no other explanation for how they are able to move so rapidly. It has cost the Empire many holdings because we are all unprepared for such speed.”

            Genki nodded. “I want you to coordinate with the captain of the guard. He is overseeing the defense of the castle and of the city. I want every able bodied man and woman with a weapon and ready to fight.” She fixed him with an even stare. “There will be no retreat. There will be no surrender. There will be no negotiating. I want that understood by every living soul who takes up a blade in the name of the Shinjo family. Do you understand?”

            “Of course,” the man said with a bow. “We will not fail you, my lady.”

            Genki wiped her eyes and wished that she could rest, even for a few moments. As the familial estate closest to the front lines, however, Shiro Shinjo had become something of a waypoint for the Unicorn forces combating the Army of Fire. The logistics were a complete nightmare, and even now supplies were beginning to run low. That was not unusual for this time of year, but Genki was acutely aware that no resupply from Bikami or Akami would be arriving. Not this time.

            “My lady,” a breathless voice from behind her said.

            Genki frowned at the familiarity of it and turned, then brightened. “Dun!”

            The young officer bowed deeply even as he struggled free of his traveling cloak, which he cast aside without thought. “I came as quickly as I could, my lady. When I heard word of the other attacks, I feared Shiro Shinjo might be next.”

            “Your fears were well-placed, I think,” Genki said.

            “Your daughter,” Dun said at once. “Is she safe?”

            “She is with her father’s sister at the court at Shiro Moto,” Genki said. “Thank you for asking.” She glanced down. “That is not your father’s blade.”

            “No,” he confirmed. “I stopped at my family’s home before I reported. I hope you will forgive me, but I needed my younger brother to carry our father’s blade today. He will defend our home and my mother. My father would wish him to be there.”

            “Of course,” she said. “And your replacement?”

            “A gift,” he said, his expression conflicted. “From my sensei among the Akodo.”

            Despite the horror of their situation, Genki laughed. “Shall I assume, then, that your feelings for the Lion have been somewhat mollified by your training?”

            “That remains to be seen,” Dun said seriously. “However, I have gained some measure of… let us say, context.”

            “I am glad,” Genki said. “Shono would be glad as well.” She smiled at the younger man and thought for a moment of how he had always been like a son to her late husband. “But enough reminiscing. I wish you to take command of the castle’s defense.”

            “Me, my lady? Are you certain?”

            “Unquestionably,” Genki answered. “The captain of the guard is at the outer barracks.” She handed him her chop. “Show him this and instruct him to inform you of all his decisions thus far. You may make whatever changes you deem appropriate.”

            Dun bowed. “I will serve you with my life, lady Genki-sama. If it pleases you, while I am in the outer city, I will instruct my honor guard to remain and ensure that you are not threatened.”

            Genki frowned. “Honor guard?”

            A wry smile flickered across Dun’s features for the briefest of moments. “The Akodo insisted,” he said. He gestured toward the balcony, and followed as Genki stepped out.

            “Fortunes,” she swore.

            Five hundred Lion warriors stood in perfect formation in the courtyard of Shiro Shinjo, awaiting their commands.

Clifton Kotei

Military: Jared Devlin-Scherer * Lion

Politics: Matt Tyler * Scorpion

Corvalis Kotei

Military: Case Kiyonaga * Unicorn

Politics: Michael Gustie * Phoenix

Logroño, Spain Kotei

Military: Ridha Chelghaf * Unicorn

Politics: José Luis Dominguez * Hare

Minsk, Belarus Kotei

Military: Mikhail Solntsev * Unicorn

Politics: Nikolay Roganov * Mantis

Fortaleza, Brazil Kotei

Military: Jehovah Netto * Lion

Politics: Ricardo Brauner * Phoenix

Shiro Tamori (Corvalis, OR)

Junghar Legion [Follower]

2/0

1/3/-

Cavalry

This card has +2F while defending.

2 FV

Shiro Tamori (Logroño, Spain)

Riding in Harmony [Action]

0 Gold

Battle: Target your attacking Battle Maiden Personality: Give her a Force bonus equal to her Personal Honor. Gain 2 Honor if she is opposed.

3 FV

Akami (Fortaleza, Brazil)

Lion Deathseeker [Personality]

4F/3C

0/6/0

Lion Clan * Samurai * Deathseeker

XXX has +2F while attacking.

Reaction: Before another player’s card’s effect destroys one of your Lion Clan Samurai in XXX’s army, destroy XXX: Negate the other Personality’s destruction. Gain 4 Honor.

Yashigi (Minsk, Belarus)

Shinjo Scout [Personality]

3/3

4/7/2

Unicorn Clan * Samurai * Cavalry * Scout Recon * Limited: Target a province. During battles at that province’s battlefield, other players may not use abilities on cards in play at other locations.

Shiro Shinjo (Clifton, NJ)

Lion Tactician [Personality]

3F/4C

6/7/3

Lion Clan * Samurai * Tactician

Battle: Discard a card: The enemy leader discards a card.

The War of Dark Fire, Part 7

By Shawn Carman, Nancy Sauer, & Brian Yoon

Edited by Fred Wan

            If there could be one positive thing said about a duty posting on the Dragon Heart Plain, it was that it gave a person ample time to read. Beyond that, Akodo Tadatoshi reflected, he could not think of anything offhand that was rewarding about this particular post. It was so remote that there were visitors no more than once every few months, and certainly no enemies to oppose. On the one hand, Tadatoshi was honored to have received a command appointment so early in his career. On the other, he wondered if perhaps he had angered someone in the Akodo family’s hierarchy to be placed in such a dreadful location. Still, it was his duty, and he would not shrink from it, nor allow his men to see him lament his position; a commander always set the proper example for his forces, no matter how dire or unpleasant the situation.

            There was a slight creak as the door to his study opened. Study was an extremely generous word, of course; the room was little more than a storage room, but he had been unwilling to select any of the larger chambers for himself when they clearly had other, more important tasks. He turned to see what the reason for his being disturbed was, his shoulders nearly scraping the walls as he did so. “Yes?”

            The guard bowed deeply. “Forgive my, commander, but the warden has returned, and you requested to be informed.”

            “Ah,” Tadoshi said, “of course. Show her in immediately.”

            The Akodo sentry disappeared and a moment later, a young Ikoma appeared in the doorway. She bowed deeply and stepped inside, closing the door behind her but remaining near it simply because there wasn’t really anywhere else to go in the small room. “Report please, Tomoi-san,” Tadatoshi said.

            Ikoma Tomoi nodded. “I investigated the smoke column in the distant north as per your instructions, commander. We were fortunately correct in that the column was too far north to have been the ruins of Shiro Chuda, or I would have returned immediately.”

            “Or,” Tadatoshi observed, “you might not have returned at all. Praise the Fortunes that you were spared such a fate.”

            “Thank you,” Tomoi said, bowing again. “I circumvented the ruins and continued north. A short distance away from the ruins I discovered a vast field that was completely incinerated, and bore the charred remains of many bodies. This was the source of the smoke we observed. While I was investigating, I was approached by a Unicorn scout.”

            Tadatoshi sat up and paid very close attention. “Unicorn scouts this far east?” he said. “I do not care for the sound of that at all.”

            “I was initially concerned as well, my lord,” Tomoi said. “However, this particular scout, a samurai under the command of Moto Xiao, provided me with a detailed map of the area, and their most recent information on the size and placement of the various Yobanjin patrols they had been tracking.”

            Tadatoshi raised his eyebrows. “Was the burning field one such patrol?”

            “It would seem so, my lord, and the Unicorn were apparently responsible for the patrol’s destruction. One among them, a priestess, sacrificed herself to ensure the patrol was destroyed.”

            The commander nodded appreciatively. “We should all find so glorious an end when it is time for us to rejoin our ancestors. I will offer a prayer for her spirit to find its reward in Yomi.”

            The warden nodded. “It was apparently the hope of Moto Xiao that by sharing the information related to the patrols, some manner of pattern might be discovered.” She held forth the scrolls in her possession. “I made a preliminary examination of them at his request, and then insisted that I be allowed to bring them to you. There was little pattern that I could discern.”

            Tadatoshi looked at the map for several moments, frowning and rubbing his chin. “I think there may be something here,” he said. He turned back to his desk and withdrew several of the scrolls he had been reading before Tomoi’s arrival, looking threw them for a moment and nodding. “The treatises on tactics that Shigetoshi-sama sent me reference something of this nature,” he said. He spent another few minutes poring over the scrolls. “Yes, I think I see. The gaijin who authored these scrolls discuss a tactic wherein one sends a wide range of patrols in order to sow discord and disguise true troop movement.” He smiled slightly. “There is a slight hole in this pattern, however. One area where there should be a larger patrol, but there is not. Or at least, not one that the Unicorn were aware of.”

            “Where, my lord?”

            Tadatoshi placed the tip of his finger on the map. “Right here, of course.”

            Kyuden Deni Kai was a relatively small outpost, but its purpose was important enough that one hundred men had been stationed there despite that it had never been involved in so much as a single skirmish. Commander Tadatoshi had called his men together to address them, a rarity given their shift schedule. He regarded them for some time, their attention and posture never wavering, before he finally drew his blade and held it aloft before the assembled forces of the outpost.

            “My grandfather was a venerable warrior of the Akodo familiy,” Tadatoshi began. “He served with distinction for many years, first as an infantryman, then as an officer, and eventually as a sensei. He was well past the age of retirement when the Unicorn invasion of the City of the Rich Frog began, but he had not yet shaved his head and entered his monastery. How could he, he asked, when he still had something to teach young samurai that might save their lives?”

            “My grandfather stood in defense of a tea house that day,” he continued. “It was small and unassuming, but its position was important as a rallying point for the invaders. He claimed the lives of three Moto in defense of the tea house, and protected the people there, who only wanted to save their home. When a unit of Unicorn arrived, he stood alone against them. The commander of that unit, a veteran member of the Moto family, saw my grandfather, he ordered his men to stand down, and faced him alone. My grandfather won the day, and the Unicorn obeyed their captain’s final command to leave the tea house alone.” He paused and regarded the sword. “This blade belonged to the Moto. My grandfather claimed it in hopes of returning it to his opponent’s family, but there was none, and ultimately he kept it until his death five years later. It passed to me only recently, but even in that short time, I know that my grandfather’s spirit is within. And I know that the spirit of his opponent, Moto Shike, is within as well. They both hunger for battle. For victory.”

            Tadatoshi turned and gestured toward the plains to the north. “This keep exists thanks to an Imperial mandate permitted the Lion to maintain it in order to ensure both our clan’s borders, and the route to Toshi Ranbo. It is our sacred duty to protect against any incursion, and now it seems that there are enemies at the gates.” He turned back to his men. “There are Yobanjin in the area. They will come here, in an attempt to breach the inner Empire and gauge the defenses of our kinsmen, perhaps even the Imperial City itself. I know that they would fail, but I do not intend to give them the chance.” He held the blade aloft again. “Today, Kyuden Deni Kai is born in fire, and emerges victorious.”

* * *

            The gates of Shiro Mirumoto were not fully open when Mirumoto Kei and her command staff rode through them, and Kei’s horse had not even come to a stop when she dismounted and landed in the tightly packed dirt of the castle courtyard. “Report!” she barked to no one in particular.

            A man bearing the mark of a captain in the Mirumoto Elite Guard handed her a clay bottle of water. “Welcome back, my lady,” he said. “We have numerous reports from across the provinces. What do you wish to hear first?”

            “Thank you, Kenzo,” Kei said, downing the water. “Major engagements?”

            “Fukurokujin Seido is lost,” the stark officer said. “The Yobanjin force attacking there was eradicated. No less than two dozen large patrols have been sighted and identified throughout the northern Empire, at least half within our borders. We have reports of four that have been destroyed, but another three of your task forces have failed to report in by the proscribed time.”

            “Lost, then,” Kei said, wiping her mouth. “Too many good men lost.” She turned to her command staff. “Resupply the men and prepare to move out as soon as soon as possible.”

            “The men are exhausted, my lady,” one of her officers said. “They need rest.”

            “We will rest when our home is safe again,” Kei said. “You have your orders.”

            The officer bowed from the saddle. “There will be unrest,” he cautioned. “The officers are accustomed to considerable leeway in scheduling, as you are well aware.”

            Kei fixed the man with a cold stare. “I am well aware that for generations we have been accustomed to seeking our own paths, even among the military. That time is over. We are the Dragon, and we will be unified against this enemy, or we will be destroyed. Any of our officers who offer more than a token protest are to be replaced with those more willing to embrace their position within our forces, is that understood?”

            “Yes, my lady. At your command.”

            The man rode away as Kei finished the bottle. She glanced at Kenzo. “Your demeanor suggests you disagree with my commands,” she observed. “Would you agree, Hikoto?”

            One of her command staff, a Scorpion, stepped forward. “His posture does suggest that, my lady, although his obvious attempts to conceal it are admirable. But then, those of my family have particular appreciation for loyalty, so perhaps I am not impartial.”

            “Mirumoto Kenzo, this is my advisor from our allies, Bayushi Hikoko of the Imperial magistrates.” She smiled wryly despite the circumstances. “I find the perception of a Kitsuki accompanied by a complete lack of interest in preserving the feelings of others has been of great use on occasion.”

            Hikoto bowed. “I live to serve, my lady.”

            “It only matters that I will die to enact them if that is required,” Kenzo answered her while glaring at the Scorpion. “My opinion is irrelevant.”

            “I would hear it all the same.”

            “Very well.” Kenzo nodded to the walls beyond. “The Dragon have ever been… individualistic, might be a charitable term. Disorganized might be less so.” He shrugged. “It is a facet of the clan’s rule by the Togashi order for so many centuries, and of our own family’s unwillingness to risk overstepping its authority. As a result, we find ourselves somewhat less than cohesive.”

            “That will change,” Kei said. “It must, if we are to survive.”

            Kenzo stared down at his blades. “Any other Champion would execute me for using such weapons,” he stated simply. “Perhaps you can remind our kinsmen of duty through an example. Have me punished, to reinforce the notion that the Dragon must be as one.”

            “I will not slay a good man so that others will see the error of their own ways,” Kei said. “We have too much at stake right now, and I need men strong enough to bear such burdens.” She shook her head. “I know the one you carry is heavy, but I have need of you. What other reports?”

            Kenzo nodded and did not raise the issue again. “The Northern Towers have been completely silent for days. We must assume the Fourth Legion is gone completely.”

            Kei shook her head. “They held the line longer than anyone could ever have imagined. Without them, the Army of Fire in its entirety would have a complete supply line in place and thousands more men across the border.” She bowed her head. “When this is over, I will personally build a shrine to Hida Tonoji with my own hands.”

            “Yobanjin!” a voice from the wall shouted. “The enemy is on the horizon!”

            Kei and Kenzo glanced at once another briefly. “How many?” Kenzo demanded.

            The sentry shook his head. His face was pale. “More than can be counted!”

            Kei swore. “Move the men inside,” she commanded to Hikoto. “Everyone assumes defensive positions.” The Scorpion departed at once, and Kei turned her attention to Kenzo. “Perhaps today is the day you will finally drown the voices of those damnable blades of yours, my friend.”

            Kenzo gripped the hilts. “I await only the opportunity,” he said.

* * *

            “I am beginning to dislike this room,” Doji Ayano said. She flicked her fan slightly to indicate all of the central audience chamber. “I mean no disrespect to our hosts, but I am sure that they will understand that I have spent too much of Winter Court here, waiting for unpleasant news to arrive.”

            Asako Kanta smiled slightly. “I suspect that most of them would agree with you, were they to speak their hearts,” he said. 

            “Not all of them,” Doji Seihime said. She nodded towards a small gathering at the other end of the room. “When one is known to have the Empress’s favor, court becomes a delightful place.”

            “His play was well-done,” Kanta said, “and undoubtedly the Divine One wished to make some gesture of thanks to her Scorpion hosts. I am sure that before the season ends you also will have a chance to catch the attention of the great lords here.”

            Seihime laughed. “Your compassion has no limit, Asako-san,” she said. “All of the problems that beset your clan, and yet you are kind to a melancholy artisan.”

            A swirl of activity near the Empress’s dais caught the Asako’s attention before he could speak. He glanced back at the two women and saw they had noticed it as well.  By unspoken agreement they left the small alcove they had been chatting in and moved into the main area of the audience chamber.

            Togashi Satsu stood in his normal place, holding a small scroll. “We have received new information from Shiro Mirumoto,” he announced in a clear voice. The room instantly shushed. “The Army of Fire has reached the castle and has laid siege to it.  Mirumoto Kei is there with her force, and she intends to hold Shiro Mirumoto against the enemy.”

            “‘With her force’”, Kitsu Kiyoko repeated. “Togashi-sama, does this mean that the Dragon armies are still dispersed across their provinces? That the Champion has only a portion of her armies at Shiro Mirumoto?”

            “That is so,” Satsu said.

            “The High House of Light and Kyuden Isawa both fell to the invaders, but they were not fortresses,” Shiba Yoma said. “Shiro Morito is a smaller fortress than Shiro Mirumoto, and it repelled its attackers.”

            “Shiro Morito had been reinforced beforehand,” Kiyoko said. “The Dragon Champion is brave and skilled, but does she have enough warriors to defend Shiro Mirumoto?”

            “If it is overrun, the heart of the Empire will be at their mercy.” Yasuki Jinn-Kuen looked around the room. “They will be able to strike in any direction, and containing them will be nearly impossible.”

            A subdued murmur arose from the assembled courtiers. Most clans had some sort of defenses on their borders, to defend from attacks by their neighbors, but few of them would be adequate to deal with the forces now attacking the Dragon provinces. There was uncertainty in that murmur. And fear.

            There was the rustle of cloth behind him, and Satsu turned around to see that the Empress had risen from her seat and was studying the courtiers milling about the audience chamber. Turning her attention to Satsu she lifted up her right hand and held it open, as if offering something.  Satsu nodded in response, and Iweko returned to her seat.

            “Nobles of Rokugan,” Satsu’s voice boomed out, silencing all others. “The Divine Empress bids you to put aside your fears. Does no one here remember the many heros the Dragon Clan has given the Empire? Do you think so little of the clan that gave her birth?”

            “I remember,” a voice said from the back of the chamber, and the crowd parted as Susumu, the Imperial Advisor, walked through the room and mounted the dais. He bowed deeply to the Empress, less so to Satsu, and then turned to face the assembled courtiers. “I remember Beiden Pass, and a time when the Crab armies walked with legions provided by the Lord of the Shadowed Lands. I remember an army of honorable Dragon samurai and brave ronin led by a man known as the Black Lion. I remember how that army stood against a force many times greater than it in size, and did not give way.” Susumu paused and looked around the room. “I do not slight Mirumoto Kei when I say I do not think she can match the tactical brilliance of the Splendid Emperor. But she is an experienced general, and an intelligent one. The samurai she leads are not fighting because of some incomprehensible order from their champion, but in defense of their homes and their clan’s honor. Can anyone doubt that they will triumph?”

* * *

The dreadful sound reached them long before the army appeared at the front gates. The thunderous rumble of a thousand feet stomping the ground echoed through the mountain air and grew louder by the minute. It was an ominous sound. The estimated numbers of the invaders had traveled through the entire army and all samurai knew their coming fate.  The defenders could only listen and wait.

            Mirumoto Satobe stood on the parapets facing the north and stared at the pass where the enemy would appear. Shiro Mirumoto, his home. Satobe had fought many battles in his years, but he had never felt like this before. He made his way across the wall, looking for something that would take his mind of his worries. The Mirumoto sentries seemed to be statues, exuding strength and confidence. He wondered if any were feeling the same concerns that now raged within him.

            A man in the armor of an Imperial Legionnaire stopped him in his tracks. “Friend,” the man said then doubled over coughing. He began to sway on his feet, but Satobe reached out and grabbed him before he could fall over. He recovered in moments. Satobe offered him his bottle of water. The man took it with a grateful smile and drank it in one long gulp.

            “Thank you,” the man said and bowed. “My name is Hiruma Shigeo. It’s good to know I won’t die thirsty.”

            Satobe bowed back. “Perhaps you won’t die at all.”

            “I admire your optimism,” Shigeo said. “I saw these monsters first hand. I know you have confidence in your swordplay, my friend, but these creatures explode upon death. You will not be able to fight in close range.”

            Satobe let the remark by without comment. “You were with the Fourth Legion?”

            Shigeo nodded. “A small contingent of us came back toward Shiro Mirumoto. I wanted to stay with the rest of the army, but my commander ordered me to come back here. Illness, of all things. The shugenja say I should not be on my feet, but a Crab does not perish lying down like an old man.”

            Satobe cleared his throat. “They say that we’ve lost all contact with your legion, Shigeo-san.”

            Shigeo turned his gaze away. “I would have preferred to die with them instead. But it seems the end is here for all of us.”

            The Army of Fire had arrived. There were thousands upon thousands of them, moving much faster than any organized army. They were running without formation. From a distance the force seemed to be one large swarm capable of devouring fortresses and leaving ruins in its path.

            “Good,” Shigeo murmured. “I loathe waiting.” He strung his bow without taking his eyes off the approaching host.

            “The walls will hold,” Satobe said with as much confidence as he could muster. “The walls will hold. The Yobanjin have nothing to bring them down.”

            Just then a fiendish shriek pierced the air. The Yobanjin army parted and the wyrm began to slither its way toward the castle. It resembled a giant snake the size of fifty men. Its dark red eyes glowed with flame and murder. A raider sat behind its head and guided the beast toward the target. It rushed toward the castle wall at a speed that belied its size. Archers loosed volley after volley toward the wyrm but it seemed to have no effect.

            Satobe’s eyes grew wide as the wyrm drew closer. It was coming directly in his direction. “It’s coming here! Move!” Satobe shouted and everyone hurriedly cleared that section of the wall. Satobe ran with the rest. His footsteps slowed and then finally stopped. He turned and faced the approaching creature. It had dozens of arrows imbedded in its scales, yet it had not slowed. Thoughts began to race inside his mind. If it were allowed to break through the wall, the Dragon would lose their only tactical advantage. Then everyone would mostly likely die. Someone had to do something.

            Satobe grabbed his weapons and drew them in one practiced motion. He brandished them in the traditional Mirumoto stance and waited. The few seconds before the wyrm reached the wall seemed like a lifetime to Satobe. When the wyrm was finally in range, Satobe did not pause to think. He took five running steps toward the edge and launched himself from the wall.

            Time seemed to slow down as he fell toward the wyrm. It was rising up to leap over the castle wall. The Yobanjin rider had wrapped the reins around one arm. He was drawing his gaijin sword. The wyrm opened its mouth opened wide to catch the falling Mirumoto, and the maw glistened with a ring of sharp teeth.

            The wyrm snapped at Satobe and missed by inches. He landed on the tip of the wyrm’s mouth. Before he could slide down further he slammed both of his blades through the roof of its mouth. He held on for dear life. The wyrm screamed in pain and began to twist and turn in the air. The weight of his body and the movements of the monster forced the blades to dig deeper into the creature’s body. They began to carve a trail closer and closer to the wyrm’s brain. The wyrm rider feebly slashed at Satobe. The strikes were nowhere close to the Mirumoto, as most of his attention was fixed on hanging on to the writhing beast.

            Dark blood and black fire spurted out of the wounds. Satobe could feel the dark magic coursing through the body of the monster.

            “Oh no,” Satobe whispered. He leapt, his legs powering him as far from the beast as he could manage.

            The wyrm exploded.

            Satobe came to in the middle of the courtyard, his face firmly planted in the dirt. He groaned and pushed himself up from the ground. It felt like fire was ripping him from the inside every time he drew breath, and he spat blood into the dirt. Too much blood. His wakizashi was gone but there was no time to worry. The wyrm’s death throes had left a large fissure in the wall, and the rampaging horde was already beginning to rush through. He was standing directly in their way. He gritted his teeth and raised his katana in a ready stance, and heard the sound of blades leaving their saya. The Mirumoto were making their defense here. One passed his wakizashi into Satobe’s hands, and he nodded his appreciation.

            The Yobanjin warriors howled like animals and brandished large ringed blades. They crossed the courtyard in an instant and the Mirumoto met the charge. Soon everything else drifted away except the stream of enemies. He stepped forward and stabbed the first Yobanjin in the stomach. He twisted the blade and ripped it out of the man’s abdomen. Without pausing he slashed the next man’s neck one inch deep. Blood splashed out of the wound, and he fell without exploding into flames. Satobe continued to strike with precision, aiming for attacks that would take his opponents out of the fight without killing them instantly.

            He caught a blur moving from the corner of his eye and turned to see complete insanity. Togashi Oeno leapt into the center of combat and was quickly being surrounded by the enemy. Satobe immediately set out to clear a path in Oeno’s direction. Oeno dug in with his forward foot and kicked his opponent in the chest. He leapt toward another and bashed his knee into the Yobanjin’s face. He landed lightly on his feet and ducked two sword strikes. The ise zumi’s movements were lithe and held the form of a delicate dance. He placed both hands on the ground and pivoted his body to spin in place. His feet resembled a whirlwind as they repeatedly kicked everyone around him. His opponents collapsed, and Oeno nimbly got back to his feet.

            “Satobe-san,” Oeno said. He stepped forward and made a roundhouse kick. A streak of black swirled into his leg as it connected with a Yobanjin warrior. The Yobanjin fell with a sickening crack, his nose caved in beyond recognition.

            “I know you worry about the Mirumoto’s failure to protect the High House of Light, Satobe-san,” Oeno continued. He quickly dashed back to avoid a strike and dashed in with a swift chop to the throat in retaliation. The raider stopped in his tracks, his hands clutching at his crushed larynx. Oeno paused and fixed Satobe with a stare. He stood still as he began to orate without a care for the battle that raged around him.

            “The High House of Light was just another place in a large world of places. It was a place of meditation, but what made it special were the souls that resided in it.”

            “Oeno-san,” Satobe gasped out between sword strikes. He dispatched his opponents and began to respond. Before he could go on, two Yobanjin brutes appeared in the distance and began to scan the Dragon line. They towered over their allies and barely seemed to be men. Their eyes latched onto Satobe’s wounded posture and began to run in his direction. They roared in bestial anger and shoved all aside in their stampede. In their hands were large ringed blades, custom made to fit their giant stature. They raised the large cleavers in unison. Satobe’s face paled as he raised his sword and prepared to fight the two.

            Before the giants reached him Satobe felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

            “Allow me,” Togashi Binya said softly. He flung the wounded warrior back toward the safety of his allies and propelled himself forward. He stretched his hands out in front of him, palms forward. The tattoos on his arms curled and boiled furiously. The ink spilled out from his fingertips into the air in a giant blob. It quickly coalesced into the head of a viper as large as a man’s chest. It snapped forward and impaled the two giants together with its deadly fangs. The giants roared in pain and exploded into a wave of fire. Binya raised his hands in response, and the viper swallowed the deadly flames before it reached the Dragon line.
            Satobe rushed back to the front lines. It was no easier to breathe and his arms felt like lead, but now was no time to give in to his weaknesses. His home was in danger. He took his place next to Binya and readied for the next assault.

            “Don’t listen to Oeno,” Binya said suddenly. “The death of the High House of Light is a tragedy. These gaijin will pay for it a thousand fold.”

            Satobe nodded but did not respond as the Yobanjin continued to press their attack. His blades whirled and slashed as he felled his opponents. He gritted his teeth. He was in trouble. He was getting more tired and his strikes were getting sloppier. When a raider leapt toward him, Satobe thrust and struck the man’s heart instead of his stomach. The man died and dripped black flames onto Satobe’s arms. He fell to one knee, screaming in agony.

            Oeno suddenly appeared at Satobe’s side and cleared the space around him of the enemy. The dispassionate ise zumi dived forward and dug his foot into the top of a raider’s head. Satobe took the opportunity to struggle back onto his feet. “The High House of Light was only a place, Binya-san,” he said. “The soul of the Togashi lives on. All that matters is that we continue our quest for understanding.”

            “Don’t pretend to be so calm, Oeno,” Binya shouted as he leapt onto a raider’s back. He grabbed the Yobanjin’s head with both hands and dug into his face with his finger tips. It screamed in agony. “You must relish the opportunity for revenge. I’m definitely enjoying it.”

            “Not I,” Oeno replied calmly. “I fight to defeat the enemies of the empire, but I would do so within Crane lands, Phoenix lands. The location does not matter, only insight into the nature of the world.”

            “Oeno, Binya,” Satobe shouted. Both ise zumi turned and looked at Satobe. “Must we discuss philosophy here, now? There are more pressing matters at hand!”

            Binya and Oeno looked at each other.

            “If not now, when?” Oeno asked.

            Satobe bit back his response. He would never understand the Togashi.

* * *

            The assembled courtiers clapped politely as another member bowed and withdrew after sharing a story of the valor of the Mirumoto. The sun was sinking wearily toward the horizon as afternoon turned to evening, but no one had yet excused themselves from the gathering, impromptu though it had been. Shiba Yoma enjoyed the tales quite a bit, although he had heard many of them before. It was in the telling that an individual story truly shown, he had always believed, and there were many very skilled storytellers in attendance this year. The Ikoma in particular, a young woman named Asa, had enthralled the group with such fascination that when her tale was done, even Yoma had been surprised to discover that more than an hour had passed. The applause had been both lengthy and genuine when she bowed and retired from the center of the stage.

            Someone on Yoma’s left stepped forward, and the elder statesman was surprised to see his colleague Asako Kanta stride to the center of the room. “I would like to share a tale, not only of Dragon honor,” the young courtier said, his head bowed, “but of my father as well.”

            The very words set off an alarm within Yoma, but he gave no outward indication of his sudden concern.

            “Years ago,” Kanta began, “my mother was a magistrate in one of the Hub Villages. It was an Imperial appointment, one that she had gained as a result of her service to the Splendid Emperor when he was still known as the Black Lion. Her youth was fading, and although she had never married, she did not find this a matter of concern. To her, duty was sufficient, and she wanted for little.”

            Kanta drew a deep breath before he continued. It seemed as if remembering his mother was difficult for him. If the young man’s grief was insincere, then it was perhaps the finest performance that Yoma had ever witnessed. “As part of one of her investigations, my mother came into contact with an individual who was unquestionably guilty of any number of criminal acts. However, the man claimed that he had in his possession documents that would incriminate a large number of individuals. They were, he claimed, members of that organization that the Emperor had identified as ‘the Kolat’ a relatively short time earlier.”

            There was a murmur of whispers throughout the room. It seemed that Kanta’s tale had captivated the group well. On one hand, Yoma was impressed. On the other, he was gravely concerned as to where this story might lead.

            “My mother had trained for some years with the Kitsuki family,” Kanta said, “and as such she was intrigued by the possibility that these documents might be considered testimony in the Emperor’s court, especially considering the Emperor’s wrathful attitude for these Kolat. She contacted the nearest Dragon magistrate, a man named Togashi Yoshi.” Here Kanta smiled slightly toward the Dragon delegation. “Although he bore the name Togashi, Yoshi-sama was not a monk, but rather the child of a member of the Togashi order, thus allowed to bear his name. He was a magistrate in one of the neighboring Hub Villages. He came to assist in the investigation, as he had seniority and the matter was one that warranted a higher-ranking magistrate than my mother.”

            “During the second day of the investigation and interrogation, word was received that a Kitsuki magistrate who was a personal assistant to the Emerald Champion would arrive to assume control over the investigation. Yoshi-sama watched the prisoner while my mother was given the honor of meeting her superior and escorting him to the magistrate’s station.”

            Here Kanta frowned and was silent for a moment again. “Upon nearing the station, my mother instantly knew that something was wrong. She rode ahead, fearing the worst, and was greeted with the sight of the magistrate’s station in flames. She plunged in without a thought for herself, desperate to prevent the investigation and the names from being lost. She was unable to find the journals or scrolls, and in only a matter of moments, smoke and flame overwhelmed her. She was badly burned. She would have died, except that Yoshi-sama was there. He carried her to safety and tended to her wounds in those first few moments after they were sustained, preventing injuries that would have crippled her for life.” He smiled. “The prisoner was secretly a shugenja, and had hoped for the opportunity to be in the presence of the Emerald Champion. His journals, his allegations, were all forgeries, although convincing ones, and when Yoshi-sama had discovered this shortly after my mother’s departure, the prisoner knew that his goal of assassinating the Champion would not come to pass. He attempted to kill Yoshi and flee, but Yoshi killed him instead. He was unable to save the magistrate’s station, but he saved my mother, and he may well have saved the Emerald Champion’s life.”

            Kanta bowed deeply to the Dragon delegation. “My father and mother were married a short time later.  Some years later, when my mother died, my father was so overcome with grief that he joined the Brotherhood. Though I was fostered to my mother’s family after my father’s death, I have never forgotten that I am Dragon by birth, and I celebrate the memory, the honor, and the valor of the Dragon Clan. There is no question in my mind that they will emerge from this trial by fire stronger and more glorious than ever.”

            Yoma breathed a sigh of relief as the audience applauded and Kanta withdrew. This was certainly proving to be one of the more interesting Winter Courts he had attended, and the periodic moments of thrilling anxiety only punctuated the experience.

            In some ways, Yoma mused, he hoped the season would never end.

* * *

            The sky was black with the fog of war. Cloth, wood, flesh and even stone burned in the fires of the assault. The destruction was unlike anything that the Dragon lands had seen before, even when the High House of Light had fallen, only a few months prior to this battle. Perhaps no one had ever seen such sheer devastation, for even in the most heated of battles throughout the Empire’s history, no two armies had ever hated one another with the white hot passion of the Dragon and the Army of Fire.

            Mirumoto Kei ripped the plate from her left shoulder, wincing as the broken edge of the armor pressed against her torn flesh. She regarded the wound there, which was painful but not serious, with distaste. The blood was running down her arm and making it difficult to keep her grip on the blade she carried in that hand. She reached down and picked up a broken dagger that littered the courtyard, its jagged blade still red with the heat from the opponent it had dispatched a short time before. She pressed the smoldering metal against her flesh and ground her teeth, refusing to submit to the pain. Her head swam with it, but Kei endured, and then threw it away, the bleeding stopped, her head clear from the pain of it all.

The fissure in the walls that had been opened by the death throws of the wyrm continued to be the focal point of the siege. The Yobanjin hurled themselves at it in vast numbers in an attempt to breach the castle’s defenses, but as yet the enemy could not penetrate the walls. They continued to dash themselves against them, like waves on the breakers, but Kei knew that it could not last. Shiro Mirumoto was a great fortress, the heart of the Dragon mountains, but it could only sustain so much punishment before it would eventually fall. Kei knew that the Lion were only a few days’ march to the south, but she did not know if they would be able to reach the fortress in time.

            And Kei did not wish to wait on the mercy of the Lion Clan.

            Each minute felt like a day to the beleaguered defenders. Each man fought as if possessed to protect their ancient city. Mirumoto swordsmen performed miraculous feats with their blades, passing by unnoticed in the chaos of battle. Togashi monks performed feats of wondrous magic with their tattoos, and yet the Yobanjin continued to pressure them. They flooded through the breached wall like a never ending swarm of locusts. Slowly but surely, samurai died to the constant assault. The Dragon edged backwards as they lost their defensive positions. There were simply too many to fight.

            “Enough,” Kei snarled.

            The Dragon Champion cast about looking for any among the courtyard who stood ready to fight. “I require men strong enough to force an opening,” she shouted. “I require a vanguard for the greatest charge the Dragon have ever known. Who stands ready?”

            “My lady,” a deep voice rumbled.

            Kei turned and regarded three men who stood before her with surprise. The slightest of them stepped forward and bowed deeply. “We stand ready to serve the Dragon, my lady, as we ever have.”

            “Matsuo,” Kei breathed. “I did not know you were here.”

            “I only arrived a few moments ago, my lady.”

            Kei frowned. “Through the fighting? How is that even possible?” She immediately held up a hand. “No, I do not have time for a lecture followed by a riddle.” She pointed at the hole in the fortress wall, through which a vast legion of Yobanjin churned, seeking entrance through the hail of archery fire. “I need an opening, Matsuo. It is a virtual death sentence. You know this.”

            “Of course,” Matsuo said. “We do not fear death, Kei-sama.”

            One of the two massive men behind Matsu chuckled. It was like the sound of an avalanche, audible even over the clamor of battle. “We do not fear death. We bring it, eh Vedau?”

            The other one, far more solemn, nodded. “You are correct, Hogai.”

            “Then go,” Kei commanded. “We will follow in your wake. Carry the Fortunes, my brothers.”

            Hogai smiled broadly. It was a terrifying sight. “Perhaps we will leave some alive for you, my lady.”

            “I would not have great expectations in that regard,” Vedau snarled.

            The three monks bowed in unison and then leapt through the opening in the wall into the waiting ranks of the Yobajin army. Kei could not see the result, but she heard screams, felt the wave of heat that ensued from the battle, and saw nearly half a dozen Yobajin warriors thrown so far into the air that they were visible above the wall. They would not survive their landing.

            Kei’s voice rang out clearly over the ruckus of battle. “Dragons, to me!” Her banner unfurled in the wind at the palace. She stepped out in front of her personal guard and raised her katana toward the enemy. The blade caught the light of the sun and for one moment it seemed like her entire being was illuminated by an inner light.

            “While a single Rokugani draws breath on this ground,” Kei shouted, “the Army of Fire will not prevail! Push them back, away from this castle! Follow me! Mirumoto!”

            The remaining warriors gathered around her banner behind the front lines. The group seemed pitifully small compared to the horde that was still pouring in through the wall. Kei shouted a kiai and every Rokugani voice echoed it.

            They charged.

* * *

            Doji Seihime rubbed a weary hand across her eyes and then, catching sight of her sleeve, scowled at the ink stains she saw there.  At some point during the stories of the Dragon Clan she had felt something well up inside of her, something that could not be ignored.  She’d slipped into one of the side alcoves and instructed the servant to bring her a small table and some writing supplies–and then she had thrown herself into her words, pouring out in story form what she could have never explained in conversation.  She had destroyed her second-best court kimono in the process, but she now had most of a very solid play down on paper.  “An equitable trade,” she said to herself, “but how does it end?”

            There was a burst of voices from the audience chamber and Seihime arose to see what was happening.  In the front of the chamber Kitsu Kyoko was standing facing the assembly, and Doji Nagori was stepping forward to bow to her.  “Lady of the Kitsu,” he said, “the Crane are deeply moved by the news of victory at Kyuden Deni Kai, and we wish to honor the courage and dedication shown by the Lion samurai who fought there.  The Kakita swordsmiths will forge a sword in their honor, and that sword will be sent to Kyuden Deni Kai to forever be used in its defense.”

            Seihime sighed and went back to her seat.  Ordinarily she loved listening to the gift-giving game, but she had no heart for it now.  Her play could end in one of two ways: tragedy or triumph, and until word came of Shiro Mirumoto’s fate she didn’t know which ending to write.  She stared the pile of paper that comprised her play.  She’d write both endings, she decided, and then she’d be prepared in any case.  The one she didn’t use this time could form the start of some other play in the future.  Seihime smiled at her plan and reached for fresh paper and her writing brush.

Athens Kotei Winners

Military: Petros Meletakos (UN)

Political: August Arsenis (CN)

Columbia Kotei Winners

Military: Terry Corbett (CB)

Political: Kevin Kennedy (PX)

Melbourne Kotei Winners

Military: Wayne Duyvestyn (SC)

Political: Adam Raymond (SP)

Kyuden Deni Kai (Athens)

Utaku XXX
Personality 
3/3
4/7/2
Unicorn Clan * Samurai * Tactician 
Battle: Even while bowed: Move XXX to the current battlefield if there are any enemy units there. Straighten this unit if it moved.

Shiro Mirumoto (Melbourne)

Bayushi XXX
4/4
-/7/2
Scorpion Clan * Samurai * Magistrate
Battle: Target an enemy Personality. Bow him if his Personal Honor is lower than XXX’s Chi. You may dishonor XXX as a cost to dishonor the enemy Personality.

Shiro Mirumoto (Columbia)

Hida XXX
5/3
0/8/2
Crab Clan * Samurai
Open: Bow XXX: Bow a target Personality with lower Force. After the next time this turn XXX straightens, straighten that Personality

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