While the multitude of raiding parties sent forth by the Dark Oracle of Fire continue to plague the Empire, the true might of the Army of Fire is felt for the first time as the largest force yet encountered by the samurai of Rokugan advances inexorably toward the ancient fortress of Shiro Mirumoto.
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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