Words & Deeds

Part 2

 

by Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

 

 

The Unicorn provinces, five miles from Shiro Moto

 

Akodo Shigetoshi spurred his loyal steed on, driving it to what he knew was its best possible speed. He had ridden the same horse in no less than three conflicts now, and they each knew the other’s capabilities quite well. Still, Shigetoshi wasn’t certain it would be enough. He and his command unit, a little more than a dozen of his most seasoned and trusted soldiers, were on an intercept course with a small strike force of Unicorn samurai who had somehow driven their steeds through a blazing village to attempt to attack Matsu Yoshino, the Lion Clan Champion, from the rear. If Shigetoshi and his men could not keep pace and cut them off, it was possible that the Lion offense could falter and fail virtually within sight of their final objective.

No. That could not be allowed.

Shigetoshi held his blade aloft and uttered a fearsome battle cry, one that echoed across the battlefield. He heard his men answer around him, and soldiers making up the right flank of the Unicorn attack force turned to find the source of the noise. It filled Shigetoshi’s spirit with joy to see their eyes widen in surprise and, he believed, at least a small amount of fear.

The Lion and Unicorn crashed together with the force of a tsunami striking a mountain. Horses screamed and thrashed in the dust, several colliding and being thrown to the ground. Men shouted in glee as they found their foes, and howled in pain as they were thrown to the ground and rolled over and over, the staccato sound of their armored plates cracking together strangely loud despite the turmoil. Shigetoshi leapt from his steed to find his footing and focused his senses to determine what was happening around him. Above the clamor, he heard distant shouting from the Matsu forces ahead. They had realized that there was an enemy behind them, it seemed. The Champion would be safe.

There was a flash of brilliant green amid the dust and chaos. Shigetoshi brought his blade into a defensive stance, and not a moment too soon. A rapid strike, then a second, was barely deflected by his blade. “Not good enough, Unicorn,” Shigetoshi said flatly. “Your assault will result in little more than a suicide attack.”

Shinjo Shono spat, clearing the dust from his mouth. “I would gladly have given my life to end this war,” he said. “You have only prolonged it.”

“It will end soon enough,” Shigetoshi said, edging around Shono’s right to try and find an opening to attack. “Your Khan’s death and the cleansing of Lion honor will end it once and for all.”

Shono circled in the opposite direction, keeping both men facing one another. “I will not see the Khan dead while I live,” he said.

“I took that into account,” Shigetoshi said.

The Lion warrior swung high, but Shono blocked it and ran his blade down the length of Shigetoshi’s, angling it at the last second so that it glanced off of the sword guard and struck the lacquered plates on his left side. Several were cut in half and hung down uselessly. Shono tried to turn the blade’s momentum inward to cripple Shigetoshi’s leg, but the Lion released his blade with his right hand and brought his elbow up in a smashing blow against Shono’s chin. The Unicorn staggered backward, shaking his head, while Shigetoshi yanked away the ruined plates so that they would not risk entangling his left hand.

“You are a great warrior,” Shigetoshi said. “It has been my honor to pit my forces against yours. I hope you will not stain your reputation by surrendering.”

“You know I will not,” Shono said, tightening his grip on his blade.

“I am pleased to hear it,” Shigetoshi said with a nod. “Your death will bring great honor to your family.”

“One day, perhaps,” Shono said. The Unicorn lunged forward with a strange, twirling attack unlike anything Shigetoshi had ever seen. He swung his blades in two wide arcs, like the wings of a butterfly, drawing the Lion’s defense to the left, then suddenly shifting to the right. Shigetoshi’s left hand darted to his belt and brought up an iron war fan in one practiced, lightning-fast motion. It was just in time to save his arm, or it would have been severed at the elbow.

Shigetoshi drove Shono’s blade away with an answering counterstrike with the war fan, the impact of iron on steel ringing up the Lion’s arm and numbing it almost to the elbow. Closed in with his enemy and with precious little room to move, Shigetoshi landed a pommel strike against Shono, feeling bone break and cartilage twist as the Unicorn’s face receded from the blow. There was a slight click as steel hit the jeweled eye the daimyo wore, followed by a brief flash of green and a gasp of pain, somehow separate from the physical damage he suffered, from Shono. He staggered back a step, one hand rising to his now brilliantly glowing eye.

Shigetoshi dropped into a Winter of Discord stance, and stepped forward as he dropped to one knee, his blade coming from behind and upward across his right. It passed more than halfway through Shono’s torso, shattering his armor in both front and back.

There was a moment of perfect calm, and all the noise from the battlefield dropped away. Shono’s one good eye found Shigetoshi’s as the Lion turned back to face his dying enemy. There was no pain, no fear in Shono. He nodded once, a gesture of respect to his superior opponent, and Shigetoshi responded with a very quick bow.

Shinjo Shono fell to the ground, the light in his jeweled eye flickering and then disappearing forever.

 

           

Only moments later, Shigetoshi held a quick conference with his lord Matsu Yoshino, and his chief shirekan, Akodo Bakin. Bakin was pale and his breathing labored. The shaft of a Unicorn arrow was jutting from his shoulder at a most ominous angle, but he refused to have it removed. Doing so, he insisted, would result in a bleeding wound that would take him out of the battle, and he would not permit that. Shigetoshi, however, was unwilling to allow so valuable a vassal to face certain death in battle.

“Return to the reserves,” he ordered Bakin. “I will take your place.”

“Forgive me my lord,” Bakin said, “but I suspect that is not possible.”

Shigetoshi frowned. “Explain.”

Bakin glanced at the Lion Champion. “I believe I understand what Yoshino-sama plans, and your placement with his forces would be… inadvisable.”

The Akodo daimyo’s frown deepened. Bakin was a brilliant general, but after his ‘enlightenment’ he had periods of extremely cryptic behavior that were maddening. “Be clear or be silent,” he commanded.

“Enough,” Yoshino said. “Bakin is right. I need you in the reserves, Shigetoshi.” He withdrew a scroll and handed it to his general. “Keep this safe until Shiro Moto is finished. I will have need of it, the entire clan will, once this battle is at an end.”

Shigetoshi stared at the scroll in horror. “What is this, my lord?” he asked.

“A way to avoid the mistakes of the past,” Yoshino said. “I am not so young that I do not understand that basic principle of our teachings.” He nodded to Bakin. “Gather the men. We must leave at once.” He turned back to Shigetoshi. “I will see you when the day is won, Shigetoshi. Protect our flanks while the Khan receives his punishment.”

The Lion Champion and his forces rode toward Shiro Moto as the Akodo daimyo watched in silence, an enigmatic scroll clutched in his hand.

 

           

The Imperial Palace at Toshi Ranbo

 

Otomo Hoketuhime smiled as she sat atop the dais. She had chosen a smaller dais off to the left of the room’s center, well within sight of the Emperor’s throne, but far enough to observe all standards of propriety. It simply would not do to have others believing she intended to take the throne of her own free will, after all. When she took the throne, it would be because the people demanded it, begged it. They did not yet know how desperately they needed a true Imperial upon the throne, but they soon would.

Hoketuhime chided herself inwardly for such thoughts. It would not do to develop arrogance or feelings of entitlement with regard to the throne. It was certainly true that she was the most suitable candidate, but she knew all too well how those who took the throne without the support of the Great Clans fared, and she had no intention of making such a mistake. No, she would take the throne because it was genuinely what the Empire needed in order to return to a golden age, an age that the Otomo would usher in at her direction.

“My lady Hoketuhime-sama,” one of the Mantis said. It was their turn to present any pressing matters that required mediation by a higher authority.

Hoketuhime favored the Mantis with a smile. She knew the speaker, of course; Yoritomo Yoyonagi was one of the most influential individuals in the Imperial Court. Her position of Amethyst Champion granted her access to literally every court in the land, and many counted her as an ally. Her comrade was not immediately familiar, but Hoketuhime examined his military markings and consulted her internal list of Mantis officers before finally determining who the man must be. “Yoritomo Yoyonagi,” the Imperial said warmly. “What is it that you and Tsuruchi Taiga see this afternoon?”

The military man’s features flickered every so slightly, imperceptibly to most, but Hoketuhime knew that she had gained his full attention by recognizing him. That attention would turn to respect, in time. “We seek redress with the Dragon Clan,” Yoyonagi explained. “They have failed in their duties, and prevented the Mantis from fulfilling their mandate to protect the people of Rokugan.”

“That is a serious accusation,” Hoketuhime observed. “In what manner have the Dragon failed?”

“The Dragon have permitted a bandit group of considerable size and skill to operate within their borders,” Yoyonagi said. “These blasphemous filth call themselves Tengoku’s Justice, and the Dragon have made no effort to oust them or to protect those on whom the bandits prey. The Mantis have attempted to intervene, but were turned away. Thus, our mandate has been thwarted.”

“Your mandate,” a Dragon courtier offered, “was chosen by you, not placed upon you as a true duty must be. Your right to intervene is dubious at best, and duplicitous at worst.”

“Another bold claim,” the Imperial observed. “Would you elaborate, Iweko-san?”

Kitsuki Iweko bowed. “My clan is well aware of the activities ascribed to Tengoku's Justice,” she said. “We have observed their movements and are aware of their attacks on the peasantry. We have learned much from studying their raids. When we completely understand them and their organization, we will not merely wound Tengoku's Justice, we will destroy it. Once we are ready, and not a moment before, we will act. Any suffering borne by our clan or our peasants in the meantime is irrelevant, and of no concern to the Mantis.”

“Regrettably, it is,” Yoyonagi said. At a gesture, one of her attendants stepped forward with a small chest that contained a series of scrolls. “If it pleases my lady Otomo, these scrolls detail the losses that the Mantis have suffered at the hands of these bandits. Our merchant patrons have lost considerable resources to them, resources earmarked for the Dragon. Naturally, with the merchandise having been seized, the Dragon have not paid their costs, and the Mantis have accumulated considerable debt in the process.”

The Kitsuki daimyo frowned. “No accounting of this debt has been presented to the Dragon,” she said. “If the matter had been appropriately pursued, then this could all have been avoided.”

“It was appropriately pursued,” Yoyonagi countered. “Taiga-san, Taisa of the Third Storm, took forces into the southern Dragon lands to deal with the matter, but they were rebuffed. Rebuffed from protecting the clan’s own interests.”

“Interests which operate within the Dragon provinces without declaration to the Dragon lords,” Iweko replied. “A grievous breach of protocol.”

Hoketuhime lifted a hand to silence both parties. “This is a most unfortunate series of circumstances,” she said, her expression pained. “With no central authority to prevent such matters from coming to this point, we are fortunate that there was not open fighting between the two.” Taiga’s expression indicated strongly that there might yet be open fighting, but the grizzled warrior said nothing. “In this case, both parties have a legitimate grievance, and both parties have taken steps to deal with the problem in their own manner. Unfortunately, they cannot both be achieved.” She paused and tapped her chin with her fan. “In this case I have no choice but to agree with the Mantis. They are to be granted access to the Dragon lands and allowed to seek justice, to right the wrongs that have been committed against them.”

“My lady,” Iweko began.

Hoketuhime held up one hand. “I understand your concerns, Lady Kitsuki, I truly do. In this case there is no one right answer, however. The matter was brought before me for mediation and I have rendered my verdict. I regret that you find it distasteful, but we all must accept such burdens from time to time.”

Iweko’s smile showed no indication that she was prepared to accept the ruling, but of course Hoketuhime had anticipated that. She could easily have supported either clan, but she stood more to gain from supporting the Mantis than the Dragon, many of whom had rallied behind the idea of their Champion, Togashi Satsu, or even Kitsuki Iweko herself, as Emperor. The Mantis were far more likely to throw their support behind a candidate that looked likely to take the throne and favor them in the process.

Hoketuhime offered a wan smile as she informed the court that they would reconvene the following day. Who knew what delightful opportunities would await her in the morning?

 

           

The northern reaches of the Shinomen Mori

 

Shinjo Isuke steeled himself, and wished one last time that his horse was with him. He had sent the steed on with Etsuko and the others after finally convincing her to allow him to remain. Isuke looked around at the others. They seemed so few now. Inside, a tiny voice wondered if perhaps Etsuko had been correct.

“No,” the officer had answered him flatly.

He had bowed. “Gunso, please let me explain.”

Etsuko clearly had no interest in hearing what he had to say, but she was a good officer, and trusted his opinion. The conflict was obvious on her face, but he had known what she would say. “Make it quick.”

Isuke pointed to the south. “The Crab are following us, we know this much. Whatever their intentions might have been, they are now chasing us. That is clear.”

“When I said ‘quick,’ I did not mean ‘tell me what I already know,’ Isuke.”

The scout smiled slightly. “We have superior speed and maneuverability, but their scouts will harass the infantry the entire way back to our position if we do not do something. You must take the cavalry and ride ahead. Allow me to remain behind with the infantry.”

“And do what?” Etsuko demanded. “Make the situation worse?”

“Let me try and talk to them,” Isuke said. “At best, you will reach the Naga city well in advance of the Crab, have time to prepare, and have your preparations be for naught because there is no conflict forthcoming.” He paused. “At worst, they will arrive without us, and you will know the nature of their intentions.”

Etsuko shook her head. “There are but two dozen of you, and at least a hundred Hida. It will be a slaughter.”

“Our loss will mean nothing in the defense of Naga’s home,” Isuke insisted. “They will greatly benefit from your leadership, if it comes to battle.”

The young woman seemed to think about it for a moment. “No,” she finally said. “No, I cannot give this order.”

“Then you will be slowed by the infantry, and by the harassment of the Hiruma, and arrive at the base possibly only moments before the attack,” Isuke had said. “If that is your order, I will fulfill it gladly, but I believe you are a better officer than that.”

Etsuko stared to the south for one more moment, then cursed under her breath. “Very well,” she said quietly. “Is there anything else you want, since I am apparently feeling so generous?”

“Only one thing,” he had said. “Take my horse with you.”

The Hida ranks were almost upon them. Isuke and the others, mostly young members of the Utaku infantry legions, had first heard them several minutes ago. The drumming, clanking steps of their advance was a maddening sound, and one Isuke was absolutely certain was done deliberately to demoralize the enemy. There was no way that they could make such noise by accident; no, they were very deliberately choosing to announce their presence in such a manner.

And there they were.

The ranks were at least two dozen across, and from here it looked to Isuke as if there were perhaps six or seven ranks, possibly more. He felt a stirring in the ranks of his own men, and settled them with a simple wave of his hand. They were young, and clearly scared, but he would not allow them to bring dishonor to their families. “Sons of Hida,” he called out once the Crab had stopped advancing, “why do you march on the trail of your allies?”

One of the Crab stepped forward. His expression was grim, and his blade was held at the ready. “I am Hida Masatari, gunso of the Hida army and veteran of a hundred and seven battles atop the Great Carpenter Wall. Surrender and your men will not be harmed.”

Isuke’s eyes narrowed. “Surrender? You insult the honor of my clan with such an invitation. I would think that the Crab, above all others, would know better than to ask such a thing of the Unicorn.”

“No honorable foe would be asked to surrender,” Masatari said. “Your actions in the deserted barracks indicate that you are no honorable foe. Surrender. I will not ask again.”

“Then you will be spared the disappointment of our refusal,” Isuke said, his voice rising to a shout. He could feel his men stirring beside him. His indignity was having the desired effect. “We are not the honorless filth you are accustomed to facing! We are Unicorn! Though we are badly outnumbered, we will not go quietly! Come, Crab! See what it means to live without fear!” The Utaku around him shouted their approval and raised their weapons.

Masatari sneered in disgust and waved his hand. The front two ranks of the Hida bellowed a war cry of their own and charged up the soft embankment to where the Unicorn waited, swords in hand.

 

           

Toritaka Kaiketsu scanned the ground carefully while Masatari waited. “Not a single bow among them?” he finally said, his tone highly aggravated. “Not one?”

“None that we have found, commander,” Masatari said. “There have been no signs that any larger force moved through here, either.”

Kaiketsu nodded. His best tracker, Ikage, had surmised that no more than two dozen horsemen had moved ahead, at best. If these infantry were not carrying the weapons that had attacked the Hiruma earlier, then the cavalry would have had to fire two to three arrows apiece, all in the span of a few seconds, to inflict the damage they had upon the Crab scouts. And yet the scouts had been able to find no trace that anyone other than the Unicorn had been in the area when the Crab were attacked. “This makes no sense,” he muttered. “Something is wrong here.”

“Ikage reports that the Unicorn encampment in a Naga ruin has been found, commander,” Masatari added. “What are your orders?”

The Toritaka stood and surveyed the area. “See to the wounded,” he ordered first. “Get them ready for travel. Then tend to our dead.”

“Hai,” Masatari said, bowing sharply and turned to go.

“Then tend to the dead Unicorn,” Kaiketsu added.

Masatari halted in his tracks and stared over his shoulder in shock. The Crab were accustomed to dealing with their own dead; it was an unfortunate necessity that they had been forced to adopt in fighting the Shadowlands. But an order to even consider the dead of another clan was most unusual. “My lord, are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said.

“But sir,” Masatari insisted, “we will lose valuable time. We may not reach the Unicorn encampment by sunset if we…”

Kaiketsu cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. “These men are not the ones who attacked us,” he said. “They faced a vastly superior force without fear. They gave no quarter, they did not retreat, they did not surrender.” He turned to face the junior officer. “If you would leave such men to be gnawed upon by animals, then that is a decision you can make when you are in command. Until that time, you will see my orders carried out.”

Masatari bowed deeply. “Hai, commander. Forgive me.”