by Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan
Kyuden Hida, Month of the Hare, year 1170
Hida Kuon, Champion of the Crab, frowned as he walked through the corridors of Kyuden Hida. He had been given a scroll, and he had unrolled it and scanned its contents as he walked. It was not good news.
“Bah,” he muttered, crumpling the scroll in one hand and tossing it over his shoulder. Although he could not see it, he heard and knew that the Hiruma following in his wake had caught the paper and smoothed it, in the event he required it again later. “More phantoms,” he said, to himself more than anyone else. He stepped through the doorway into his personal audience chamber. “More smoke and rumors.”
Hida Reiha looked up from where she had been giving a scroll to their youngest child, who promptly stuck one end in his mouth and toddled off across the chamber. “More news of the Spider, husband?” she guessed.
“I grow weary of this specter hanging above our heads,” he said. “Four additional reports arrived this week. Two from magistrates in our remotest provinces, describing reports from peasants in the unaligned lands of Spider activity. Both of them involve these ronin slaying bandits. One is from a former Crab, a retired warrior now serving as a monk and describing the activities of a group of monks wearing the Spider mon.”
“And the fourth?”
Kuon’s features twisted in a grimace. “A proposal from an ambitious young Yasuki as to how the Crab can make a considerable profit from the entire Spider phenomenon.”
Reiha laughed. “Would you not hate to be bored with another duty than this?”
“Ask me on a different day,” he muttered. “Have we received an account of the situation at the Western Watchtower?”
She held out a scroll. “It arrived this morning.”
He took it with a half-hearted smile and broke the seal, glancing at it quickly. “They are ready,” he said with a nod. “Thanks be to Osano-Wo. I want this matter finished once and for all.”
“Who will you send?”
Kuon thought for a moment. “Benjiro is at the front with the Crane,” he said.
“Yes,” his wife agreed. “What about Kaiketsu?”
Kuon considered. “He is too young. Untested.”
“He will be tested soon enough,” she observed. “Perhaps it would be best if he had an opportunity to prove himself first.”
The Champion thought for a moment. “That seems sensible enough.”
Reiha stopped and turned to look at him. “Is that surprise in your voice?”
“No,” he said at once. “Not at all. Kaiketsu will be perfectly sufficient for this task.” He turned to one of the attendants. “Send for a scribe at once.”
“Of course,” the Hiruma said, and disappeared into the corridor.
“My lord.”
Kuon had not heard the messenger approach, and it was uncommon for one to address him without being spoken to first. His instincts instantly told him that something was wrong. “What is it?” he demanded.
The man’s expression was a mixture of confusion and smoldering anger. “My lord,” he repeated, “there has been… an incident. At Koten.”
Kuon felt his mouth dry up instantly. “What has happened?”
•
Toshi Ranbo, the Imperial City, Month of the Dragon
The Imperial Palace had not lapsed into inactivity, even after the Empress’ death. However, during their stewardship of the city, the Phoenix had chosen to use only secondary chambers, and left most of those chambers typically reserved for the courts convened by the Emperor in seclusion. To do otherwise, Isawa Mizuhiko reflected, would have been presumptuous and attracted even more ire than the clan had managed to accumulate in the past year regardless.
Now, however, the palace’s primary court chamber had been opened on the order of the Otomo, leaders of the Imperial families. Otomo Hoketuhime, the Otomo daimyo and perhaps one of the most powerful individuals in the entire Empire, now stood in the center of the room, obviously pleased with herself but her expression serene and demure all the same. Mizuhiko had no choice but to admire her incredible self-control. She was capable of feats that many who could speak to the kami could not manage. Even as Mizuhiko watched, Isawa Ochiai, the Master of Fire and leader of the Council of Elemental Masters, present Hoketuhime with a large scroll secured with a formal wax seal.
“Toshi Ranbo has been rebuilt,” Ochiai was saying, ending her summation of the past year’s activities. “The city thrives, and there have been no incidents of violence since the unfortunate incident some months ago. Both parties responsible have been accepted back into the city and resumed their duties without incident. The Elemental Council can see no reason that the Phoenix Clan should remain in control of the city. Given that, we formally cede all control over to the highest ranking authority remaining in the Empire, the Otomo family.”
Hoketuhime accepted the scroll from the bowing Phoenix, and returned the bow. Not quite as deeply, Mizuhiko noted, but she bowed all the same. “On behalf of the Imperial families,” she said in her rich, melodic voice, “I thank the Phoenix for their assistance. I was given a tour of the rebuilt city earlier today, and it is clear that the city is fully recovered from the attack last year, as well as the unfortunate damage caused by Isawa Sezaru.” Hoketuhime placed very subtle emphasis on Sezaru’s family name, causing a flash of anger from Mizuhiko, but he saw no apparent reaction of any kind from Ochiai.
“It is said,” Hoketuhime continued, “that the Phoenix intervened out of a desire protect the Imperial City protected from the destruction that so plagued Otosan Uchi. For that, they have the eternal gratitude of the Imperial families, for nothing so demonstrates a samurai’s proper piety and worth as reverence for those things held sacred by the Imperials. In light of that, while the Seppun shall continue to guard the Imperial lines and their residences, and the Lion shall protect the city as a whole, the Otomo hereby appoint the Phoenix Clan custodian of all sacred sites within the Imperial City.”
Ochiai smiled demurely and bowed, but Mizuhiko sensed tension from the Lion contingent in the courtroom. The implication that the temples, libraries, and repositories of art needed additional protection would in all likelihood be taken as an insult by the Lion. They were prone to such things, after all. It would complicate matters between the two clans even further, he feared. Ultimately, that was almost certainly what Hoketuhime desired. Some could not see it, but to Mizuhiko, it had been obvious for a long time that the Otomo served little purpose other than to turn the Great Clans to one another’s throats.
The shugenja reflected inwardly how pleased he would be when his Asako allies had located a Dark Oracle, and he and those who worked with him would be free to leave the city and pursue their prey.
“My friends,” Hoketuhime said, opening her arms wide to encompass the entire room. “Thank you for your patience. Know that tomorrow, the Imperial Court will reconvene, and the Otomo will begin hearing whatever business needs to be presented before the court. Even in the absence of an Emperor or Empress, the business of the Empire must continue.”
“Empress,” muttered Mizuhiko. “Interesting.”
•
The Unicorn provinces, five miles from Shiro Moto
The smoke was beginning to interfere with the clear view of the battlefield, a fact that Akodo Shigetoshi had anticipated, but which irritated him no less for it. He looked to the south at the blazing fire where the smoke had originated, and frowned slightly. The order had been difficult, but ultimately necessary.
Akodo Bakin stirred at his right, as if deducing his regret. “The village was used as a staging ground for costly counterattacks twice, my lord,” he said. “You had no choice.”
“I find it distasteful all the same,” Shigetoshi said. “What is the status of Lord Yoshino’s personal command?”
“They are ready,” Bakin said. “They await only opportunity.”
“Take your place with them,” Shigetoshi ordered.
The general bowed before his daimyo. “As you command, my lord. Shall I give the order for the way to be cleared?”
Shigetoshi nodded. “We will reach the charge point very shortly,” he said.
“I have selected Itoku’s legion,” Bakin said. “I hope this meets with your approval.”
“It does.” He hesitated for a moment. “Send Hachigoro’s as well.”
Bakin raised one eyebrow. It was as close to anything approaching surprise that Shigetoshi ever saw the man express. “My lord, that will leave your command group almost completely unprotected. Are you certain?”
“Lord Yoshino made a promise,” the Akodo daimyo said. “Its fulfillment is of greater importance than anything else. And regardless, my command can survive whatever meager resources the Unicorn have remaining behind our lines.” He nodded. “Go.”
“As you command,” Bakin repeated, and spurred his horse onward. Shigetoshi watched as the two Akodo legions set forward, forging toward the front lines with the Matsu legion Yoshino commanded following closely behind. He knew from experience that the front lines would part like storm clouds before them, and that the Akodo would spill forth and break any resistance the Unicorn had remaining so that Yoshino and his forces could crash down on the gates of Shiro Moto like a wave on the shore. He also knew that many Akodo would die, and even more Unicorn.
The prospect of death had never troubled Shigetoshi before. He was a samurai in service to the Lion, after all; he had prepared for his death from the moment he first took up the daisho in service to his lord. No, in this case the notion of more death troubled him because every life lost was an opportunity for another blood feud. Already the Lion and Unicorn had been at war for what seemed like decades, although in truth it was significantly less than that. A little more than six years of constant war, rebuilding, and more war. Every man that Shigetoshi had killed, he wondered if that Unicorn’s children had sworn to take his life in return. And if they did, would his own children then swear to kill the Unicorn? When would the cycle end? The way of the Lion was the way of war, but not war without end.
Shigetoshi’s son would be of age to take up the daisho in perhaps five years. And his wife was expecting their second child. Would they have to face the Unicorn as well? A warrior’s death was all any samurai desired, but was it what he wished for his children. The Khan must suffer for his sins, that much was absolutely certain, and he had no doubt in his heart about that. Would even that end the war, however?
His instincts suddenly came alive. Something was wrong.
There was a loud keening sound from the village Shigetoshi had ordered put to the torch. It sounded like a horse, but he had seen the villagers evacuate everything and run west as his men had methodically set fire to everything in their path. There should be nothing left in the village, and he could not imagine anyone foolish enough to leave something as valuable as a horse behind.
The flickering flames at the village’s edge parted for a brief second as a horse leapt through them, an armored samurai sitting low in the saddle. The Unicorn gave a fierce battle cry, and it was answered by others. Two more, then six, then a dozen horses all followed the first, leaping through the flames to land outside the fiery grave of Kaiten Mura. They did not hesitate for an instant, but resumed their charge. Shigetoshi could see smoldering embers had burned small holes in their armor. The hair of several horses was singed and smoldering, and the Lion commander could not believe they were continuing to obey their masters in such circumstances. One man’s beard had actually caught alight as he leapt through the flames, and he patted it out absently as he followed his leader.
Shigetoshi estimated their number at just over four dozen men. They never paused after their incredible emergence from the village, but charged toward the distant, retreating flank of Yoshino’s forces.
“Shono,” Shigetoshi muttered. The Unicorn general had proven a greater thorn in the Lion’s side than had been anticipated by several orders of magnitude. Now it seemed he was attempting to halt the Lion army in the most efficient manner possible: by cutting off its head.
“Akodo!” Shigetoshi shouted, rallying his personal guard and command staff. There was a chance, however unlikely, that he could intercept the faster force before it reached Yoshino. He could only count on the Unicorn being exhausted and weakened from their exposure to the fire and smoke. “To me, Akodo! Charge!”
The Lion general spurred his horse into a gallop and drew his blade.
•
The Shinomen Mori, near the Naga cities
The Crab contingent in the Shinomen consisted of two separate components: a force of scouts traveling well in advance of the main body of troops, and the larger group of Hida warriors following them at a considerable distance. Under normal military procedures it would be inadvisable for such distance to be placed between two portions of a single force, but the Hida were, by their nature, physically incapable of any sort of stealthy movement through the forest, and it was necessary to surprise their foes if there was to be any chance of success.
Toritaka Kaiketsu moved alongside the other scouts, indistinguishable from them save for the simple rank insignia on the shoulder of his armor that indicated he was the commander of this particular force. It was his first formal command, something he had hoped he would be granted in the short time prior to his father’s retirement. Toritaka Tatsune had been planning to retire for some months, but in his customary fashion, had not yet done so. Kaiketsu was not concerned. He was not ready to assume the responsibilities of a daimyo just yet; he wished to gain military experience first.
One of the foremost scouts turned back and made a subtle hand gesture. Instantly, everyone froze. Kaiketsu listened for a moment, but he could not hear the clacking sound of the Hida’s armor and their weapons. They were holding back to the proper distance as instructed. He returned his gaze the scout. Hiruma Ikage, his name was. A quiet man, a professional soldier, in Kaiketsu’s estimation. He respected him.
Ikage used the traditional Hiruma hand signals. Target sighted.
Enemies? Kaiketsu signed back.
None sighted, was the response.
Advance with caution. That sent, Kaiketsu signaled for another of the scouts to return to the main body and alert them to what was happening. He needed the Hida ready at a moment’s notice in case things went poorly. Then he turned and followed in Ikage’s path alongside the others.
After a moment of forging through dense underbrush, a feat that had to be done with extraordinary caution in order to maintain noise discipline, Kaiketsu was surprised to discover that the forest suddenly gave way to a large clearing, sunken slightly into the forest floor and paved with thick, black earth. There was a slightly sour smell in the air that set off a warning in the back of his mind, but it was nothing he could readily identify. That was the least of his concerns, however.
The clearing was filled with buildings. Not just the small, abandoned shacks perhaps once occupied by hermits or woodsmen that they had encountered already. No, this was almost a city. There were at least a dozen buildings, probably more, and most were large enough to hold dozens or even hundreds of people. Kaiketsu had never seen anything like it. He realized that the others were looking at him, and so he signaled them to fan out and investigate. If those buildings were full, the Crab would be vastly outnumbered.
“Kaiketsu!” Ikage shouted.
Kaiketsu’s hand went to his blade at once. For noise discipline to be so abruptly abandoned, there must be a serious problem.
“Riders,” Ikage called out.
The scouts were on alert at once, assuming a defensive formation that would allow them to seek cover in an instant, if required. Kaiketsu cursed inwardly. The notion of facing cavalry inside such a dense forest had not seemed a realistic scenario. Naturally, that was coming to pass now. He could only hope that they were allies.
“Hello in the clearing!” a voice shouted out. “I am Utaku Etsuko, Gunso of the Shinomen Guard. Identify yourselves!”
Kaiketsu relaxed, but only slightly. The situation had far too many unknowns for there to be no threat remaining. “I am Toritaka Kaiketsu,” he shouted back. “Taisa of the Third Crab Army.”
There was a moment of silence. “What is the nature of your business so near the Unicorn borders, Kaikeatsu-sama?” The term of address was respectful, but the woman’s tone was not.
“We are investigating reports of ronin activity in the area,” he answered. “Specifically, the so-called Spider Clan.”
The delay in response was longer this time. “The Spider are among the Unicorn’s allies,” Etsuko shouted back. “Please step into the open where we can see you.”
Kaiketsu considered it for a moment, then decided against it. He gestured for the others to remain where they were, then he alone stepped around a building so that he could see the young battle maiden. She was accompanied by perhaps a dozen of her comrades, and an additional two dozen or more infantry. “A curious request,” he said. “If you consider these Spider your allies,” he continued, “then you were aware of this… encampment?”
Etsuko glanced at one of the others, and Kaiketsu could sense her hesitation. “I am familiar with no accounts of this location,” she admitted. “It appears on no reports I have seen.”
“Curious,” Kaiketsu repeated. “Would your allies not wish to inform you of a barracks so near your borders, as you describe it?”
“That is not a matter of Crab concern,” she said curtly. “Your investigation is appreciated, but the Unicorn have this area well under control.”
“Which I suppose could mean there are any number of additional encampments waiting to be discovered,” he said, his tone severe.
“Let me be clear,” Etsuko said loudly. “Your interference in this matter is not welcome. Out of respect for our clans’ long-standing alliance, you are free to conduct your ‘investigation’ in peace, and then you will be expected to depart.” She turned her horse and led her patrol away, glancing balefully back over her shoulder as she did so.
“Wonderful,” Kaiketsu muttered. He turned back to his men and gestured for them to rise from their ready position. “Fan out,” he instructed. “Find anything useful, anything that might provide information. We need to be quick about it.”
The scouts did as ordered. Ikage approached the closest building and searched the doorway for a moment before trying the door. It resisted, and, after attempting to force it, he finally dropped his shoulder and slammed into it with all his weight, throwing it open.
There was a loud rustle from the woods to the north, and arrows rained down on the area were the scouts were concentrated. One struck Kaiketsu in the shoulder, but it did little other than anger him. He wrenched it free with a hiss of pain, then turned to the others. Six men were down, with twice that number standing with obvious wounds. He glanced at the shaft of the arrow.
It was a Unicorn arrow.
“Traitorous harlot,” Kaiketsu snarled. He turned to the men. “Tend to the wounded! Signal the Hida!” He glanced back to the north. “They will pay for this in blood.”