The conclusion of the epic saga of the Dark Oracle’s invasion of the Emerald Empire, as the Army of Fire pushes forward toward the Imperial City.

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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Carolina Kotei Winners

Military: Kevin Kennedy (Phoenix)

Political: Jorge Rodriguez (Scorpion)

 

Sacramento Kotei Winners

Military: Greg Wong (Dragon)

Political: Amanda Lau (Crane)

 

 

Our Combined Strength [Spell]

0G

Fire Focus Effect: If your Personality in this duel is Fire: Draw a card.

Battle: Bow this Shugenja: Destroy a target unit with equal or less cards in it than the number of elemental keywords on your Shugenja in this army.

3FV

 

Radiant Steel [Item]

+3/+1 4GC

Focus Effect: This card has +1 Focus Value for each Weapon in your Personality’s unit.

Battle: Bow this card: Destroy a target Weapon or Armor.

3FV

In the penultimate chapter of one of Rokugan’s most costly wars, the Army of Fire begins maneuvering toward a final, devastating strike into the heart of the Empire. Even as defenders of Rokugan move to intercept them, a daring plan is hatched in the halls of the Imperial Court, one that might end the conflict without endangering the Empire’s most precious treasure.

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 Army of Fire reaches Kyuden Asako, a center of learning and art for the entire Empire, but the Lion stand between the enemy and the Phoenix. And a missing hero from the Battle of Shiro Mirumoto returns with new purpose.

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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 http://www.alderac.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=63&t=76503

 

Irvine Kotei Winners

Military: Case Kiyonaga (Lion)

Political: Stephanie Dane (Spider)

 

St. Louis Kotei Winners

Military: Nathan Hendrick (Shadowlands)

Political: Violet Strickland (Scorpion)

 

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 battle raging over the fate of Shiro Shiba concludes, even as the Army of Fire continues its path of ruin through the Phoenix lands. In the Imperial Court, many wonder if the Army of Fire is somehow limitless in its numbers, as the war seems to drag on without hope of a conclusion.

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