Though it may mean my death, Toturi thought, I cannot let this fratricide go on!
Turning his horse, the Black Lion spurred it through the body of his troops, toward the clashing columns of Lion.
"My lord! Where are you going?" Toku cried as Toturi charged. For a moment, the young samurai looked around, confused.
"Follow me, boy," commanded Ikoma Bentai, Toturi's old friend. "Wherever he's bound, we must protect him!" Bentai turned his horse as well and dashed after the Black Lion.
"Amaterasu protect us!" Toku cried. He dug his spurs into his shaggy mount and plunged into the teeming horde.
Toturi drove toward the Lion. A wall of enemy spears appeared before him—goblins and undead samurai trying to end his life. Matsu Tsuko's sword hummed in the Black Lion's hands. He smashed the spears and swept through Fu Leng's forces like the wind through sharp reeds.
An oni rose and barred his way. It was a hideous black gelatinous thing, like a monstrous jellyfish. Its many tendrils lashed at him, only to be turned aside by Toturi's armor. The allied general clicked a command and spurred his warhorse. The steed shot forward, trampling the oni into the dust. It squealed and writhed in its death throes as Toturi galloped on.
He burst through the advancing lines and rode up onto a rocky prominence. Once, this long flat boulder had been part of a natural shrine outside the city. Peasants often came to it with offerings for the local kami, hoping to win favor for themselves or their families. With the coming of Fu Leng's minions, though, the simple temple had been burned, and its ashes scattered to the four winds.
Now the site stood at the center of the clashing Lion armies. Swords flashed like lightning around him as Toturi rode between the opposing sides. Tsuko's sword cleared his way through the melee, turning aside blows aimed at him, but never shedding any Lion blood.
Toturi reined his horse atop the rocky platform. The animal reared and neighed. Toturi rose in the saddle, and a flash of lightning silhouetted him against the dark sky.
"Lions!" Toturi shouted. "Slay your kinsmen no more! Despite our differences, we must be one against our common enemy! If you want my blood, if you want my head, you can have it—after we have pulled Fu Leng from his corrupt throne and destroyed him!"
For a moment, the tide of Lion forces swirling around him paused. Toturi turned in the saddle, gazing out over the sea of combatants. Kitsu Motso hesitated nearby, his armor red with the blood of his own clan.
Ikoma Tsanuri, though, turned and spurred her horse forward. She lowered her spear and aimed it directly at the Black Lion's breast.
THE DRAGON
Mirumoto Hitomi pressed her back against the short stone escarpment and held her breath. A contingent of undead samurai, goblins, and demons marched past her, close enough that she could have spat on them.
Sweat poured down the Dragon lady's brow, and the tattoo on her back burned. She shivered, though the day was smotheringly hot after the cool of the Dragon mountains. Hitomi had returned to the great capital, only to be caught among the ranks of her foes. It had been difficult to sneak this far through enemy territory, but Hitomi was determined to reach her troops. Part of her longed to lay into the Shadowlands patrol and slay them all. That was not her mission, though. Not now. Not yet.
The battlefield roared hellishly. Hitomi peeked around the corner. The Shadowlands contingent had passed by, though another would come soon. Her samurai heart burned at the thought of skulking in the shadows like some nameless Scorpion.
She glanced toward the city and the Forbidden City within, and wondered if Kachiko remained alive. Kachiko needed to live to fulfill the Great Dragon's plans—just as she, Mirumoto Hitomi, did.
Hitomi raced across open ground to a tree to shelter her. The stench of death permeated the fields. Smoke and storm clouds hung overhead like crows waiting to pick clean the bones of the dead.
Hitomi darted down a trench and slipped through a hole in a barricade. Sounds of demon footsteps caused her to press back against the stones. She couldn't fight them. Not yet.
She gazed down her arm to the Obsidian Hand, clenched at the end of her wrist. The cold, black thing shone darkly, even against the shadows. Hitomi flexed stony fingers and smiled. This gave her all the power she would need to wreak her revenge.
She would find the Crab Champion Hida Yakamo and kill him. First the Crab had slain Hitomi's brother. Then he had taken her true hand at the battle of Beiden Pass. That combat had cost Hitomi dearly. She had lost not only her hand, but also her army— and perhaps her destiny as well.
In her mind's eye, the Dragon saw Yakamo's death, over and over again. She savored each time his head burst, relished the snap of his spine, gloried in the warmth of his blood as it flowed over her skin.
A sound snapped her back to reality: strange flute music, drifting over the fields to her ears. Hitomi reached up with her human hand and wiped the sweat from her shaved head.
Hitomi had heard such music often, in her master's court. The man she'd last heard playing such a tune was a ronin. Hitomi didn't know much about him, save that he was a friend of the Great Dragon.
An image of her master, Togashi Yokuni, formed unbidden in her mind. She saw the Great Dragon standing before her, his golden mail shifting silently, like the skin of an immense lizard. His golden eyes blazed out from beneath his horned helmet. His deep voice shook Hitomi to her bones.
To kill Yakamo is not your destiny, he had said. If you do so,
the Seven Thunders will never assemble, and the world will die.
The words echoed in Hitomi's mind, and she knew the truth of them. Yet, the fire in her belly burned nearly as brightly. How could she give up something she'd sought so long? How could she forsake it, even if the empire would fall?
The Dragon lady clasped her hands over her ears to shut out I he noise, but the words echoed in her skull. The eerie music filled her, winding around her soul. Hitomi wanted to cry out, but she kept her mouth clamped shut.
A goblin straggler walked by her hiding place, chewing on an arm. Hitomi's eyes ran over the tattoo on the arm's sallow flesh. The owner had been a Dragon.
Hitomi leapt from the shadows. She bounded over the mud. Fire and death flared in her eyes.
The goblin whirled to face her. It dropped its snack and drew its sword. The katana swung at Hitomi's head.
She reached up and caught the blade in her stone hand. The Dragon twisted her wrist, and the goblin's steel shattered into a dozen pieces. Hitomi grabbed the goblin by the throat. Anger coursed through her body as the Obsidian Hand squeezed.
The goblin gurgled. Its eyes bulged out of its head. Black blood leaked from its misshapen mouth. Hitomi felt its neck break under her grip. She let go, and the creature fell to the mud. Thunder boomed in the sky above.
Hitomi's eyes strayed to the severed arm lying in the mud. Her people. These evil monsters were killing her people.
Heedless of the danger, Hitomi sprinted across the fields outside Otosan Uchi. She dodged between piles of the dead and leapt over barricades.
Two undead samurai sprang up before Hitomi. She shattered their skulls without even breaking stride. Their bodies fell twitching to the mud. A few quick leaps took the Mirumoto daimyo to the top of an embankment.
A skeletal defender rushed to confront her. It swung a metal-studded tetsubo club at Hitomi's head.
She ducked under the blow and seized the undead thing by its tattered kimono. Hauling the monster overhead, Hitomi cast it over the bank. The creature hit the hillside and smashed to pieces. It fell onto one of Fu Leng's unwary defenders, destroying it. Hitomi smiled.
Thunder cracked. Clouds burst, pelting her scalp with oily rain. Hitomi wiped the stinging black water out of her eyes and peered over the field of battle.
In the distance, great armies clashed. Hitomi recognized two different Lion flags, as well as the mons of Crane and Unicorn and the ronin Toturi. The minions of the Evil One also carried their own standards, terrible banners made from stil
l-living flesh.
Thunder rattled, and a bolt of lightning drew Hitomi's gaze to a different part of the fray. There, the banner of the Dragon waved bravely in the downpour.
The Mirumoto daimyo felt a pang of regret. She should be with her clan, fighting—and if need be, dying—beside them. Something else caught her keen eyes: the banner of her old rival, Mirumoto Yukihera. In her mind's eye, she saw the green-armored samurai sneer at her. The dragon tattoo on his shaved head seemed to writhe as he wrinkled his brow. He laughed a ruthless, condescending laugh.
Hitomi's old foe led the Dragon troops into a bad position. Shadowlands forces leapt on the tattooed warriors, rending and slaying, causing terrible bloodshed. The Dragon army fell back, but the enemy dogged them. Yukihera called to his samurai, and they rallied bravely, though their position left them vulnerable.
"Pull back!" Hitomi screamed, well aware that her people could not hear her. "Use your shugenja to delay the enemy so you can strike their flank!" Her shouts did no good.
Thoughts of slaying Hida Yakamo fled from the Dragon's mind. Yokuni was right; killing Yakamo could wait. First, she needed to wrest control of her army from the madman Yukihera. Once she had regained her birthright, she could think about revenge against the Crab.
Again, images of gruesome deaths for Hida Yakamo played through her brain. The tattoo hidden on her back burned anew, and strange flute music drifted to her ears.
Yes. First things first.
She scrambled over the hill and clambered quickly down. Wind blew from the north, and the smell of smoke and carnage drifted to her nostrils. Thunder crashed overhead. Her people were waiting.
Hitomi strode across the devastated field toward the site of the battle.
THE LION
Tsanuri charged her old teacher, death dancing in her dark eyes. Lightning clashed, and her spear point gleamed in the afterglow. She aimed her weapon at the Black Lion's throat.
Toturi's hand tightened on the carved ivory handle of his katana. With one swift motion, he raised the sword high over his head. The clouds above him parted slightly, and the morning sun peeked through. The light caught the sword's blade and shone off it, like the goddess herself come to earth.
The Black Lion's voice boomed like thunder, echoing off Otosan Uchi's walls and rebounding from the hills:
"For Matsu Tsuko!"
Ikoma Tsanuri reined to an abrupt halt, her spear point stopping a mere hand's breath from Toturi's flesh. Her eyes darted to the Black Lion's katana, shimmering like fire in the morning light. She glimpsed the lion-headed hilt, and recognition dawned in her deep brown eyes.
Toturi gazed at her, his eyes burning into his former pupil's soul.
Tsanuri dropped her spear. She drew her katana and raised it high next to Toturi's. "For Matsu Tsuko!" Her voice caught the dying echo of Toturi's own words.
Kitsu Motso pushed through the crowd and raised his sword as well. "Matsu Tsuko!"
All at once, the embattled Lion troops stopped fighting. Silence fell as they looked to their leaders. As one, the Lion samurai raised their swords and roared, "Matsu Tsuko!" Their voices, thousands strong, shook the nearby hills and rattled the plague-infested walls of Otosan Uchi.
"For Rokugan!" Toturi, Tsanuri, and Motso cried together. They wheeled in perfect unison and galloped through the troops toward the flank of Fu Leng's army.
The Lion samurai turned with them, charging the enemy together, the soul of Matsu Tsuko alive in their Lion hearts.
An ogre rose before Toturi. The lion katana flashed. The top of the monster's head fell to the ground, its brains spilling out. Toturi rode on as the huge body crashed to the muddy ground.
Behind him came the massed troops of the Lion, as powerful an army as Rokugan had ever known. Their cries echoed in Toturi's ears, but his head reverberated with the sound of Matsu Tsuko's strong voice. His heart filled with pride, remembering her sacrifice. She, not he, had made this day possible. Toturi wished he could thank her.
Tsanuri and Motso's horses fell into step with the ronin general's. Behind them came Bentai, Toku, Motso, Gohei, Yojo, and the body of the united Lion army.
Overhead, the storm broke. Clouds rolled low over the hills, as if the very elements might join the battle. Torrents of rain fell, dividing the bloodstained earth with sticky red-black streams.
Lions crashed upon their enemy's flanks, breaking the Shadowlands line. Fu Leng's undead dropped back toward the city walls. They screamed and cursed. Maho shugenja rose from their midst, aiming deadly spells at the allied forces. A hail of arrows rained from Toturi's army, silencing the magic on the shugenja's lips.
Suddenly, a mass of demons, led by the Yakamo no Oni surged from a side gate. They sprang among the allied forces, slaying heroic samurai with frightening efficiency. The hideous, demonic mockery of Hida Yakamo snapped ashigaru in half and drank their blood. He laughed at his foes' misery.
Mirumoto Yukihera's Dragon troops charged the demons, failing to see the trap the monsters had set. Fu Leng's forces scrambled over the walls in huge, black swarms, surrounding the hapless Dragon.
Toturi turned to Matsu Yojo. "Summon the Elemental Masters!" he said, shouting to be heard above the battle. "We need help now, or Yukihera is lost."
Yojo nodded to the Black Lion and spurred his steed to where the Phoenix sorcerers battled enemy shugenja.
Yukihera's troops fell back as far as they could.
Toturi crashed his armies into the mass of the Shadowlands forces. The evil warriors turned and fought the newcomers, but the Dragons remained trapped within the enemy forces.
Toturi's jaw clenched. They will be slain if we don't get to them soon! he thought. His concern for the Dragon distracted him, and he didn't notice the pikeman bearing in on his back until it was too late. The Black Lion turned, staring down the point of an enemy spear.
Ikoma Bentai shot forward, using his own body to push the shaft of the weapon aside. His horse stumbled, but the wily Lion general kept his seat. The pikeman turned toward him, lifting his spear. Bentai's sword flashed, and the pikeman's head fell into the mud.
"Thank you," Toturi said.
The Ikoma ronin nodded and laughed. "I think you'll breathe more easily without that pike in your lungs."
"I expect so." Toturi turned and felled a skeletal warrior trying to drag him from the saddle. He and his allies spurred forward again, aiming to break the back of the enemy troops. The Shadowlands forces turned to meet them, howling with pestilent voices. Hordes of bats and black flies filled the air over Fu Leng's armies.
As the Black Lion cut down another foe, he saw Toku disappear into a crowd of warriors. Toturi said a quick prayer to Amaterasu for Toku's safety and then shattered another skeleton with his lion-headed katana.
The army's charge soon turned into a bloody push. Horses and onikage fell, and samurai struggled in the mud against their undead foes. In the midst of it all, the Dragon troops fought in an ever-tightening circle of enemies.
Will even the Elemental Masters be enough? Toturi wondered.
Just then, a cry went up from the Black Lion's samurai. "Yoritomo! Yoritomo!" the ashigaru cried. Toturi turned and saw the green-armored troops of the Mantis lord swarming up the beaches behind Fu Leng's army. A smile drew over Toturi's lips.
Riding beside the ronin lord, Ikoma Bentai asked, "You knew they were coming?"
Toturi shook his head. "I did not know, but I hoped." He turned back to the fighting in time to see (sawa Uona arcing high in the air over the battle. The Mistress of Air flew gracefully through the storm, her winds turning arrows aside before they ever reached her. In her slender arms, she held Isawa Tomo, the Master of Water.
Uona circled over the Shadowlands forces that hemmed in the Dragon. As she did, Tomo's body began to elongate, like honey dripping from a honeycomb. His gentle features blurred, and he dissolved into a torrent of rain.
Tomo's rain fell like iron spears among the enemy. His watery figure pierced armor and the flesh b
eneath. Demons and their undead allies screamed and slashed with their swords at the Master of Water, but Isawa Tomo merely seeped into the ground.
Moments later, the earth erupted in a great muddy wave. The swell surrounded the embattled Dragon forces. Tomo pushed their enemies away. Fu Leng's minions fell back in disarray.
Thunder cracked overhead, and Uona laughed. The clouds opened up, and a whirlwind twisted down into the midst of the enemy. The small tornado cut a swath through the Shadowlands line, smashing evil samurai against the city walls or sucking them up into the clouds.
Tomo smothered the enemy under his fluid body, crushing I he air from the lungs of some and drowning others. A huge gap opened in the enemy line, and the Shadowlands troops fell back. Che Dragon forces surged forward, killing any goblins too slow to get out of the way.
For long minutes, the evil cries of dying monsters filled the ,iir. Then the black army moved away, retreating to the safety of the city walls.
As they departed, they splashed through a great crimson and brown puddle. Occasionally, the puddle would reach up and unhorse a retreating samurai. Soon, though, no enemies remained within reach. Gradually, the great puddle resumed its human form. Tomo walked over to Toturi and gazed up at the ronin lord.
"I think the Dragon can fend for themselves now," he said, a crooked smile creasing his boyish face.
Isawa Uona hovered in the air above them, her long black hair tossing in the windstorm. Rain streamed down her body, making her gold and red kimono cling to her lithe form. This was not the black rain that assaulted the rest of the allied troops, but a clean, clear liquid that seemed reserved for her and the Master of Water alone.
Despite the ease of their victory, the two Elemental Masters looked tired.
Toturi bowed to the Isawa samurai. "Domo arigato. You have done us a great service. But why didn't all of you come?"
"With the Mantis on the way, two were enough," Uona said flatly.
"Would you have Tsuke and my brother abandon their tasks when they were not needed?" Tomo asked. He smiled again, but the smile seemed to pain him slightly.
L5r - scroll 07 - The Lion Page 17