The Heavens Will, Part I

by Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

Yogo Koji stalked the halls of Shiro Yogo like a wrathful specter, scattering all who crossed his path. Even among the surly and sinister ranks of the Yogo family, the daimyo was a figure that inspired fear. Other Yogo, men and women who caused those who encountered them to whisper quiet prayers to the Fortunes for protection from evil, withered under his baleful gaze. Koji was acutely aware of the effect he had on others, and he did not care. It was not that he enjoyed the aura of menace that he projected; he had acknowledged it long ago and dismissed it as insignificant.

Koji’s mood was particularly dark because it was morning. His duties as the daimyo of a Great Clan family required him to attend to all manner of activities, many of which took place in the morning. Left to his own devices, Koji would force court and appointments to be convened at night. He had spent so much of his time in the darkness when he was younger, before he had been appointed to this accursed position, that he now found the brightness of morning virtually unbearable. Still, in this particular case, he understood that it was not only necessary, but vital. That did not mean that he would enjoy it, however.

The Yogo daimyo and master of the Kuroiban order stormed into his private audience chamber without preamble. “Speak,” he commanded before he had even taken his seat. He saw little purpose in wasting time with formalities.

“We have gathered the information you requested, my lord,” a young man said. He wore a cloth mask that added a slight whispering sound to his speech. “Every area in which Scorpion forces have encountered these so-called Spider, every city, every village, everything… they have disappeared.”

“Unacceptable,” Koji barked. “How can this have happened?”

“We do not know,” the young Shosuro said. “They appear to have gone to ground and are in hiding. We have no indication why they might have done so.”

“Bah,” he snarled. “Rieko, have you found any information through your contacts that might shed light on Kiemon’s findings?”

Yogo Rieko was one of the few individuals that had never seemed to be even remotely intimidated by Koji’s demeanor. “None of my contacts within the Jade Magistrates or the Jade Legion have any information, unfortunately,” she said. “If you will forgive me, Koji-sama, I feel we must assume that some manner of action on their part is imminent. An attack of some sort.”

“We still do not know to what extent the Lost have infiltrated these Spider samurai, or if the two groups are entirely the same,” Keimon said. “I think we must assume that they have all the resources available to them for whatever it is they are attempting. And I think we must assume that we are the target.”

“Eh?” Koji frowned. “What leads you to believe that they would target the Scorpion?”

“What other clan has taken even a passing interest in them?” Kiemon asked. “Our evidence suggests that the Mantis may have had an alliance of convenience with them for some time, but that has fallen apart and the two clans have little interaction. The Unicorn certainly will not draw their ire, for they have been the Spider’s only true allies. We alone are their enemies.”

Rieko nodded. “I have to agree. We must assume that we are the target. To do otherwise is risk discarding Scorpion lives without benefit to the clan.”

Koji nodded slowly. “Very well. The resources of the entire Yogo family are at the Kuroiban’s disposal. I want Kuroiban agents, or agents that have earned our trust, positioned with every governor, commander, and daimyo in the clan. I want this done by the end of the day tomorrow. Do you understand?”

“Hai,” both replied at once.

•

The Yasuki provinces of the Crane lands

On certain days it could be difficult to remember that the reason the Yasuki lands had been fought over so often throughout the history of Rokguan was that they were so fertile and rife with opportunities for the clan that controlled them. Today was such a day.

Shiba Tsukimi grimaced as she looked out over the fields that stretched before her as far as she could see. Fertile? Perhaps once. Now they had churned again and again by the marching of troops to battle, soaked with blood and perhaps ruined forever by the damage inflicted during the making of war. It was possible, she reckoned, that in a few years they might be able to support crops again, but each subsequent skirmish drove that day farther away. One day, possibly soon, the damage would reach a point that the land would be unable to heal itself.

“Lady Tsukimi.”

She turned and suppressed a grimace. The young messenger who awaited her was the one she had dispatched to the Crane general less than an hour ago. He stood, waiting, his hand clutching the sealed scroll that she had sent him with. It was unopened. “Forgive me, my lady, but they would not accept your message.”

“I expected as much,” she admitted. She was surprised that the Crane had rejected her messenger first. She had been expecting her regular missives to have been turned away by the Crab for more than a week. But then perhaps she should not be surprised; her intelligence suggested that the Crane commander, Daidoji Zoushi, had a new advisor, an elderly man named Daidoji Fumisato. Since Fumisato’s arrival, the Crane’s tactics had become decidedly more unpredictable. Tsukimi suspected the man was far more than he appeared, and that he might in fact be commanding the army and using Zoushi as little more than a figurehead. If so, then he could be more dangerous than even she had imagined.

“Zoushi’s subordinate offered this.” The messenger held out a scroll.

Tsukimi took it and dismissed the messenger with a nod. She broke the seal and read.

Shiba Tsukimi,

I regret to inform you that I will no longer be able to receive your messages. While I have come to view your regular correspondence as part of my morning routine, the simple fact of the matter is that, by your continued interference despite the formal protests of the Crane Clan, you have dishonored a righteous war. With the permission of my superiors, I have been authorized to cease all negotiations with your clan regarding this matter.

It would be in your best interest to understand that the Phoenix have no place in this war.

Daidoji Zoushi

Tsukimi resisted the urge to crush the paper in her hand. The sheer ridiculousness of it all threatened to drive her insane. When she had convinced Isawa Ochiai that the Phoenix could accomplish something of value here through intervention, she had genuinely believed that was the cast. Now, weeks later, what had been accomplished? Nothing. The two clans continued to harass one another with varying levels of tolerance toward the Phoenix army’s attempt to intercede. And now it seemed that the patience of the Crane, at least, had been exhausted.

“My lady!” a voice from the tent’s front came. “Your messenger to the Crab returns! And he is injured!”

The Phoenix Clan Champion took up her blade and placed it in her obi as she stalked outside. Perhaps today would be the day that she saved ten thousand lives by ordering the deaths of a thousand.

•

Bishamon Seido, the Lion lands

Only the strongest or most arrogant warriors genuinely hoped to attract the attention of Bishamon. The Fortune of Strength was well known in literature and mythology to have standards that were impossibly high, and no matter what heights his adherents reached, their patron would ever expect more. No one could deny that the Fortune had favored the Lion Clan, however, for their great shrine in his name was among the largest, most prosperous shrines in the entire Lion lands, and thousands of warriors trained in the arts of war there every year. Each swore an oath to adhere to Bishamon’s principles, and their failures were rare indeed.

Matsu Takenao frowned as he looked at the table full of scrolls that awaited his attention. He had only arrived a few hours ago, and had barely had the opportunity to clean and maintain his equipment, bathe, and quickly partake of a real meal. The one thing, the only thing that Takenao disliked about military duty was the field rations. He had always found them utterly tasteless and unfulfilling. Now, when he would enjoy some time meditating at the shrine, duty called instead. Such was the burden of a Lion, and he would never voice his discomfort.

“Takenao-sama.”

The Lion commander turned and nodded to a pair of warriors entering the chamber, instantly taking note of their ranks and unit placements from the markings on their armor. “Akodo-san, Matsu-san.”

The two men both bowed deeply. “I am Akodo Itoku, shireikan of the Akodo Army. This is my friend Matsu Watako, shireikan of the Ikoma army. We are recently arrived and wish to place our forces at your disposal for the duration of our station here.”

Takenao nodded. It was protocol for a Lion officer to announce himself to the senior officer at any facility upon arrival. “I have heard of you, Watako-san. I must apologize, Itoku-san, but I am not familiar with your exploits as yet.”

Itoku nodded. “My promotion is relatively recent, my lord. There was attrition during the march to Shiro Moto, and I rose to fill the ranks when greater men than I fell in battle.”

“I have not yet had the opportunity to study the full accounts of the Lion’s March,” Takenao said. “I am certain when I do, I will find your actions every bit as glorious as Lord Shigetoshi finds them.”

Itoku bowed his head. “Thank you, commander.”

The chief shireikan of the second Matsu army took the first scroll from the table and opened it. “What was your previous post?”

Watako answered. “Our forces just rotated off of duty at Kyuden Ikoma. We are to maintain six months of a conditioning regimen here, and then be deployed elsewhere in our respective provinces.”

“Any news from Kyuden Ikoma?”

Watako frowned very slightly. “A contingent of ronin has arrived and been given a position among the castle’s defenders. They are a mix of both the Legion of Two Thousand and a group called the Hidden Sword.” The woman’s distaste for ronin was quite evident from her expression.

Takenao nodded absently, skimming the resupply list and reaching for a quartermaster’s report. He opened it and read for a moment, then realized the other two were still there. He glanced up. “Is there something further?”

Watako seemed hesitant, and glanced at Itoku, who grimaced slightly. “As you are most likely aware, my lord, both the army elements from the march and the defensive forces at Kyuden Ikoma were resupplied with assets seized during the incursion.”

“During our relocation to Bishamon Seido,” Watako chimed in, “one of the quartermasters found something… unusual among the supply wagons. She brought it to me, and I consulted Watako before our arrival.”

Takenao raised an eyebrow. “What was it?”

Itoku raised an item and held it out for Takenao to see. He frowned at the sight of it, at first unfamiliar with it altogether. After a moment he recognized it, however; it was one of the gaijin reading implements that the Unicorn had introduced to the Empire after their return, and which had become increasingly popular over the past few generations. Books, they were called. “Why is this of interest?”

“Open it, commander.”

Slightly annoyed but interested despite himself, Takenao took the book and opened it, holding it awkwardly at first because of his unfamiliarity. He frowned at its contents. “This is no language I have ever seen.”

“Nor have we,” Itoku admitted. “I recognize the manner of diagrams it contains, however.”

Takenao leafed through the pages, looking at the different drawings, charts, and various diagrams. “These are tactical drawings.”

“Yes,” Itoku said. “And they are unlike anything I have ever seen, even when I was a student at the Akodo War College. I was the son of a sensei there. I saw many of the dojo’s oldest and most revered works. Nothing like this was among them.”

Takenao’s frown deepened. “This is a gaijin language,” he said. “This book must have been collected by mistake when supplies were being commandeered in the Unicorn lands.”

“That was our thought as well,” Watako said. “The question is, what do we make of such a thing? My inclination was to destroy it as a relic of a corrupt culture…” her voice trailed off and she glanced at the Akodo.

“I believe it should be examined by the Akodo commanders and evaluated,” Itoku said. “It may be necessary to destroy it, but it may have some sort of value.”

“I find it difficult to imagine finding value in anything of gaijin origin,” Watako countered. “Itoku does not dispute that, but feels that we are ill-prepared to make such an assessment, and in that, I must agree.”

“You are right to seek other counsel,” Takenao said. “Like you, I have seen nothing like this before.” He withdrew his personal chop from his obi and took up a brush. “Itoku, I wish you to take this to the Castle of the Swift Sword personally. Ensure that they notify Shigetoshi-sama if they feel the work has merit.”

Itoku bowed sharply. “What of my forces, commander?”

“Watako will ensure they do not lack for their training,” he answered with a nod to the Matsu samurai-ko. “I want you to see to it that this book is not endangered in any way, until and unless your sensei choose to destroy it. Regardless, report back to me at your earliest convenience.”

“Hai, commander,” Itoku said. “I leave at once.”

•

The battle went poorly almost from the beginning.

Tsukimi grimaced as she cut down a Hiruma that had somehow pierced rank after rank of the Shiba lines to reach her command group. The man died without a sound, and she offered a quick prayer for his soul to reach his ancestors before returning her attention to the battle. “Signalmen,” she barked. “Send the fourth legion to reinforce the left flank. I need more Legion of Stone to brace the front, and the Hurricane Initiates need to focus their fire on the Crane cavalry to keep them at bay.”

The signalmen began flashing their flags in calculated patterns at once, sending the Phoenix Clan Champion’s orders across the battlefield. Not for the first time, Tsukimi wished privately that she had accepted Shiba Naoya’s offer to accompany her rather than leaving him behind to guard the Phoenix holdings. She had a hundred lifetimes of experience at her disposal, but there were few men whose opinion and insight that she trusted more than her predecessor’s brother. The battlefield was no place for regret, however, and she must push forward. “What is the status of the Crane and Crab fronts?”

Her scout officer checked the placement of his men and consulted the flurry of signals they sent in bursts. “They fronts have fragmented. They are divided between one another and us. The two armies’ command groups are growing closer to one another. It appears as though they will engage one another shortly.”

Tsukimi cursed. “How soon?”

“Minutes,” was the answer. “Possibly less.”

“I need the Tsunami Legion to intervene at once!” Tsukimi shouted. “If one of the generals is slain, this will become a rout and a slaughter!”

One of her advisors shook his head. “The Tsunami Legion has sustained heavy losses. They will not be able to penetrate the ranks of Crane and Crab between their position and the command groups.”

Tsukimi clenched her teeth and said nothing. This should not have happened. Her best tactical estimates indicated that today’s battle would be nothing more than another minor skirmish. The notion that the Crab and Crane would have so fully involved one another as to expose their command groups to one another was completely ridiculous. It would almost have to have been…

“Deliberate,” she said. “This is deliberate.”

“My lady?” one of the command staff asked.

“This is no random tide of battle,” she said. Part of her wished that she could feel a swell of hope that the two commanders would meet and resolve the battle without further bloodshed, but she knew that was not the case. No, for them to meet like this, on the field of battle, fully engaged, there were two possible outcomes. One was a duel between the generals to resolve the dispute once and for all. With a Daidoji and a Hida commanding the armies, that possibility was so remote that it was almost completely laughable. The other possibility, however…

“Signal a withdrawal,” Tsukimi said at once. “Pull our forces back at once.”

The other members of her command group were clearly stunned but complied at once. “May I ask what…”

Tsukimi cut him off with a sharp gesture and pointed. The Crab and Crane fronts had ceased to crash against one another and now, instead, they had unified and turned against the Phoenix. The Shiba held the line for the briefest of moments, then were crushed back by the pressing force.

“What… what are they doing?” one of the Isawa advisors demanded.

“They would not forsake their battle for peace,” Tsukimi said through clenched teeth, “but they will put it aside, if only for a moment, for this. Preposterous.”

“What are your orders, my lady? Shall we retreat and regroup?”

“No,” Tsukimi said. “They have made it clear that we can do nothing to stem the tide of this war. They will not be placated or mediated. They wish only for blood.” She waved her hand to the signalmen. “Signal a full retreat. We are leaving the Yasuki provinces.”

“What is our destination?”

Tsukimi considered for a moment. “We will return to the Imperial City and take stock. Then we will decide what we must do. Now sound full retreat before any more of our brothers die.”

•

Somewhere beneath the ruins of Otosan Uchi…

The city of Otosan Uchi had been far and away the largest in all the Empire, prior to its destruction. But destroying a city as massive as the former capital was a daunting task, and men, even the sternest of warriors, had a tendency to allow their attention to wander when undertaking a task of such magnitude. So it had been with the death of Otosan Uchi. So many of the buildings had been collapsed due to partial damage or fire, and had left entire floors undisturbed beneath the rubble. It had been a simple matter to connect many of them via tunnels to create a stronghold completely hidden from the eyes of men.

The samurai of Rokugan had many failings, Daigotsu mused, but architecture was not among them. “What is our status?” he demanded.

The men in the chamber he entered bowed deeply, foregoing their customary kneeling after he had rebuked them for wasting time the day before. If he were being honest with himself, Daigotsu thought, he would have to admit that his temperament had been poor lately. Shahai was angry with him that their son had to play in what she described as “filthy tunnels.” It had not improved his mood.

“My lord, we stand ready to enact your will,” one of the men said, holding his bow. “We have over one hundred of your finest vassals in position throughout the Empire.”

“I see,” Daigotsu answered. “That is more than I expected. The list of names that I gave you was not quite that extensive.”

“No, my lord,” the man answered. “There were some names on the list that we felt would be better assured if multiple vassals were in place, however.”

“Ah,” he answered. “Well done, Shikyo. I am pleased.”

The Chuda smiled sickeningly but said nothing.

“What remains to be done?”

“Nothing, my lord. We await only your command.”

Daigotsu smiled. “A pity the Shadow Dragon has been unavailable for some time. I am quite certain it would have enjoyed taking a role in this endeavor. Still, its loss is another’s gain. Would you not say that is so, Katsu?”

The khadi sorcerer looked back at his master with completely empty eyes. “As you say, my lord.”

“You can communicate with all of the agents in question simultaneously?” Daigotsu asked. “I would prefer to avoid even the most remote chance of forewarning spreading throughout the Empire.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Very well,” he said. He walked around the room in a slow circle, savoring the moment. “There was something that my late rival said, I believe,” he said with a cruel smile. “Something that had a certain gravity despite its lack of imagination. Katsu,” he stopped and looked at the other man over his shoulder.

“Hai, my lord?”

“Kill them all.”

TO BE CONTINUED…