by Stan Brown
Kisada's eyes were still as sharp as ever, and they immediately picked out the opposing command tent. Just to the right of it, a page tended a steed bearing a standard with the emblem of the Hantei. It was true.
"What does the emperor have to say at a time like this?" wondered Yakamo, who stood on the ridge nearby.
"More likely the empress," mumbled Kisada. Hantei the 39th did not have enough experience to offer any advice before a battle, let alone good advice. His wife, however, was one of the craftiest tacticians in the empire. Anyone who believed otherwise was doomed to be her pawn.
"But what message is she sending?"
"Wait! The messenger is leaving!" shouted Yori pointing excitedly. "And someone is leaving with him."
A stunned silence swept across the group. None of them knew what to make of the scene they witnessed.
"It is Matsu Tsuko," said Yakamo no Oni, who had not been there a moment earlier. "The emperor has ordered the Lion Champion to withdraw from the battle."
The others turned to the creature as one, but only Kisada responded. "What? Why would he do such a thing?"
"Who can say with you humans?" the oni said gazing down at the Lion army. The posture and attitude of all the troops sagged visibly as the news spread through the ranks. "You always seem to do the worst possible things and somehow convince yourself that it will all work out for the best."
Kisada stepped closer to Yakamo no Oni and, though the creature towered over him, looked him square in the eye. "How did you know what went on in that tent?"
The oni shrugged, an all-too-human gesture. "Though I have made a pact with you, I am not without my resources. You would be surprised what the forces of Fu Leng know about the inner workings of your clans. Yet you still manage to hold onto your precious little empire. Isn't that amazing?"
The creature was taunting him. Kisada stood on the verge of launching himself at the beast's head and throat.
"The time to attack is now—before the emperor can change his mind!" Yakamo was already swinging his tetsubo in a threatening manner and noisily clicking his claw.
The Great Bear snarled at Yakamo no Oni one last time and then whirled on his heel. "Give the word—the attack begins mow!"
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"Such a slaughter. It is not even right to call it a battle—this is a massacre." Kuni Yori stood alone atop the ridge overlooking Otosan Uchi. The fields ran red, and the city itself seemed to quake. The Crab had not yet breached her walls, but that was only because they weren't quite through routing the opposing forces.
Matsu Tsuko's battle plans had been sound enough. At her order, the Lion forces met the Crab head-on, and then split to flank and surround them. Unfortunately for the Lion, Kisada recognized the tactic and ordered his samurai to breach the ring of soldiers and circle toward the point of the Crab attack, thereby making the Lion troops fight a two-front battle.
It was a fairly standard opening gambit. If Tsuko had been there, she would have recovered. But the Lion Champion was forced to watch from a ridge directly across from Yori as her second in command incorrectly guessed Kisada's response and led the Lion troops into the least advantageous position imaginable.
From that point forward the outcome of the battle was never in doubt. Even Kuni Yori could see that.
The shugenja gazed across the field. His eyes stopped on a familiar figure. Hida Yakamo fought in the unusual, brash style he'd adopted since he first donned his claw—whipping his tetsubo about one-handed, throwing his opponents off balance, then reaching in and crushing them with his powerful pincer. He seemed to be having some difficulty finding opponents to face. Many of them took one look at his size and the claw on his left arm and immediately backed away. Yakamo attacked anyway, so cowards died just as quickly as brave warriors—they just didn't see the deathblow coming.
A bit farther to his right, Yori saw Yakamo no Oni. The shugenja had trouble telling the two apart, despite the feet that one was nearly twenty feet tall and had no skin. For that matter, Yori had trouble telling living samurai from undead zombies. He no longer saw with his eyes. Ever since reading the Black Scroll, he saw people not as creatures of flesh and blood but as patterns of energy, glowing balls of spirit in weak fleshy containers. At one point the spirits of Yakamo and Yakamo no Oni were as different as their physical shells. Now they were nearly identical. Yori would have been hard pressed to say which one had changed the most.
Yakamo no Oni terrorized its opponents the way its human counterpart did. It was literally surrounded by Lion samurai hacking at its ropy flanks. Stroke after stroke from enemy katanas, no-dachi, and yari bit into the oni's flesh. Most of the blades left no mark whatever—they simply passed though the oni's hide. The few samurai wielding blades that actually hurt the creature died first, but none of the others escaped the oni's monstrous rage either.
Yori scanned the crowd, looking for Hida Kisada. The Great Bear fought in the most crowded, hody contested, murderous part of the battie. No doubt, Kisada had purposely made his way there. His soul was at peace only when he faced down death. The Great Bear was not suicidal, but he needed to prove his right to live by overcoming bigger and bigger threats to life and limb. This time, he might have stepped too far.
Kisada was surrounded by four reasonably healthy Lion samurai who cared more about bringing down the enemy commander than about their own lives—or honor. In a very unLionlike display, the four attacked Kisada simultaneously.
It might have been fatigue, it might have been mental anguish, or it might simply have been age finally catching up with the Great Bear. Whatever the cause, Kisada was in trouble.
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Realizing his predicament, Kisada switched tactics. Rather than trying to kill one opponent at a time, he would simply keep them all at bay and maneuver the fight across the terrain. He hoped to run into reinforcements before his attackers broke through his defenses.
The Great Bear swung his tetsubo in a wide circle above his head, feinted at one samurai, then lunged toward another. The whole group moved another fifteen paces toward the city but no closer to Crab troops. The other two Lion samurai lashed out at Kisada. One bounced his katana off the Great Bear's heavy helmet. The other narrowly missed spearing him through the ribcage with a bladed polearm.
Kisada knew he had only one or two passes left before his opponents actually did him serious harm. Desperate times, and the Great Bear responded with a desperate measure. Completely ignoring the other three, he lifted his tetsubo high over his head and charged headlong at the shortest of his opponents. As he had hoped, the man froze in a defensive posture, waiting for a massive swing of the spiked club. Instead, Kisada lowered his shoulder and ran straight into and over the surprised Lion.
The other samurai sprinted after the Great Bear, but he had enough of a head start to reach the top of a ridge. Kisada ran straight into another Lion samurai, this one in a desperate fight for his own life. A trio of Shadowlands zombies shuffled after him, brandishing rusted and chipped katanas.
Kisada struck the man down with a single blow. He turned just in time to block a thrust from the yari-wielding Lion while the other three finished scaling the ridge.
The Crab daimyo was out of options and out of luck. There were no other Crab warriors around, and the zombies would not respond to his orders. He drew his shoulders up to face what would be his final battle.
The Great Bear blocked one katana blow with his tetsubo, neatly sidestepped a second, but was completely immobile when the yari blade stabbed at his throat. With a meaty sound the blade struck home, but Kisada felt no pain.
A zombie had thrown itself before the blade, which even now jutted from its neck.
Not wasting time wondering how or why this had happened, the Great Bear clubbed one Lion so hard his head bent all the way back to touch the middle of his spine. Another Lion stepped under the yari pole—the zombie had tightened its rotting neck muscles to trap the blade—only to be struck down by the zombie's no-dachi.
Kisada leap
t at the immobilized owner of the yari. The Lion tried to draw his wakizashi, but the sight of Hida Kisada flying through the air, tetsubo raised for the kill, unnerved the man. The last thing he ever did in this life was fling the short sword away.
The final Lion attacked the zombie. He swung his dai-tsuchi into the undead thing's chest. The warhammer landed with a dry, hollow thud that sent the zombie flying.
Kisada watched uncaring as the Lion chased after his monstrous opponent. He was glad for the rest. Then the Great Bear looked to the ground where the zombie had dropped its no-dachi. The weapon, though badly corroded, seemed familiar. It had once belonged to a friend.
"Waka?" Kisada said aloud. Could that shambling mass of skin and bones be the remains of his old friend?
Another loud thump came as the Lion landed another solid blow on the zombie.
Kisada picked up the fallen yari and flung it, spearing the Lion through the head. The man stood there twitching through his death throes. The Great Bear climbed the hill once again and stood over the fallen zombie.
Reaching down and removing the creature's masked helmet, Kisada gasped as he saw the badly decayed but still recognizable features of his old friend, Hiruma Waka.
"You are a better samurai than I," Kisada said solemnly. "You do not let anything prevent you from your duties. Even in death you protect my life."
The undead Waka had suffered wounds grievous enough to kill any living man, but it was already trying to scramble back to its feet. Kisada handed it the rusted no-dachi.
"Thank you, my friend," Kisada said as the zombie shuffled off to find more Lion warriors to attack.
"Father!"
Kisada turned to see Yakamo.
"The Lion are routed. Nothing stands between us and the city!"
The Great Bear smiled and looked up to the ridge where Matsu Tsuko sat astride her horse. With a brief gesture, he sent the Lion Champion a salute—she would likely interpret it differentiy—and turned toward Otosan Uchi.
FORBIDDEN CITY
I have seen this before." Kisada stood at the Fudotaki Gate at the threshold of the Forbidden City. Over his shoulder he could hear the roar and feel the heat of Otosan Uchi in flames. The fires were not nearly as bad as during the Scorpion Coup, and the Crab and Lion forces ceased their hostilities to put them out before they could get any worse. At least that much was an improvement over the Bayushi debacle. This was a battle for the soul of the empire, not a petty feud over geography.
There were other differences. The gate was barred, but no imperial troops manned the Wall. Kaiu Utsu's troops set up their battering rams without a single arrow fired at them, never having to worry about boiling oil raining down from above. The walls were still sturdy, but the gates fell quickly to the efficient work of the Crab siege master.
"The last time I came here we failed to secure the empire's future," the Great Bear grumbled to
himself as he watched the gate fall. "Removing Bayushi was the easy part. We failed to place a strong emperor on the throne. We let the weak son of a feeble dead man take the reins of power, and every Rokugani has suffered for that mistake. Today, I will make things right."
He stepped through the gaping hole Utsu provided and once again trod the hallowed soil of the Forbidden City. The grounds were like a garden, with strategically placed buildings here and there. The Forbidden City was home to the extended imperial family and hundreds of servants and guards. People came and went at all hours of the day.
Now, though, the grounds were eerily silent. Birds chirped in the elms and sandalwood trees, but the only other sound was the crackle and pop of buildings burning outside the walls. The Forbidden City seemed completely abandoned.
"Where is everyone?" Yakamo asked, more disappointed than intimidated by the incredible silence.
"They're here," Kisada said, "but they know they can't beat us."
"Cowards!" shouted Yakamo shaking his claw toward the Imperial Palace. It stood towering over the gardens, indeed over all of Otosan Uchi. From this perspective, trees blocked out all other structures. The palace appeared to be the only building for miles.
"Oh, they will fight," Kisada chuckled. "These Seppun are not like the other clan samurai. They are more like us. They have only one job—to protect the emperor. They will do whatever it takes to stop us. Gather all the men under your command, my son. This is where we test our karma!"
Yakamo grunted.
"And what of my troops?" asked Utsu, a twinge of insult showing on his face. Were his troops not good enough to walk inside the Imperial Palace?
Kisada smiled. "A task for which they are well suited—climb the walls and keep the enemy out!"
Utsu barked a laugh that spread among his troops.
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"Father! Behind you!" shouted Yakamo.
The Great Bear raised his tetsubo and whirled.
A samurai dressed all in white stepped into plain sight, katana in hand. The Seppun knew the palace better than anyone. This one had hidden herself in the shadows behind an ancient folding screen and waited patiently for Kisada to pass. She had allowed several other Crab samurai to go by without making a move, but the second she recognized the Crab daimyo, the Seppun stepped free and launched herself at his throat.
Her katana clanged off the Great Bear's club, but the odd angle of the blow knocked him off balance. The Seppun pressed the attack.
Only then did Kisada realize she was not alone. Other Seppun appeared from hiding places all around. The entire length of this hallway was one tremendous ambush, and his troops had walked right into it.
Fighting inside a building, even one as large as the Imperial Palace, was much different than fighting on a battlefield. It called for different formations, strikes, and focus.
The samurai-ko harried the Great Bear with a flurry of quick strikes. None got through his defenses, but the combination kept the Crab on his heels, unable to counterattack. One tetsubo blow would take the Seppun out of the fight, but the great club was not made for fighting in such close quarters. The walls were too close for wide patterns that kept opponents at arm's length, and the ceiling was too low for an overhead strike to smash through a foe's defenses.
Behind him Yakamo had the same trouble. His extraordinarily tall, powerful body made it nearly impossible to fight effectively in the halls of the Imperial Palace. Yakamo at least had his claw, though. The unholy relic proved quite useful in close quarters.
A male Seppun appeared behind Yakamo and nearly split his spine with a quick strike. The young Hida narrowly avoided the blow by throwing himself against a door frame, rattling the hall with his impact. Wielding his huge weapon one-handed, Yakamo could not get the heavy club head around fast enough to counter the katana. He had to resort to using his claw as a parrying weapon.
Kisada stepped closer to his opponent, close enough that it became difficult to swing even a katana. His left hand grabbed the top end of his tetsubo. Several of the iron spikes bit into his palm. The Great Bear thrust the club forward and pressed the Seppun's blade back toward her chest. With a quick twist of his wrists, he locked the katana between three of the tetsubo's spikes. The two opponents stood face to face. Neither could move without giving the other a fateful opening. It now became a contest of brute strength, and Kisada far outclassed his opponent.
Bending his knees, the Great Bear moved in even closer. Now he looked up into the samurai-ko's eyes. He could see fear there. She knew what he was about to do. The Seppun tried to lean backward while still keeping the tetsubo immobilized, but she only succeeded in throwing herself off balance.
Kisada tensed his biceps and extended his arms in a powerful push. He had hoped to knock the samurai-ko onto her back, but his thrust actually sent her flying through the air.
Her arms pinwheeled. She dropped her katana and tumbled away from her opponent. With a raucous sound of snapping wood and shredding paper, the Seppun smashed through a fusuma and landed hard in a tatami room. She rose quickly, but her post
ure showed that her shoulder was useless.
Stepping out of the hallway, he swung at her head. Even injured as she was, the samurai-ko ducked the blow. She did not, however, avoid the kick the Great Bear launched at her midsection. A rush of air fled her lungs, and she landed on her wounded shoulder. The pain was incredible, but it didn't last long.
Kisada brought the head of his tetsubo down in an overhead strike that released the Seppun from all worldly pain.
The batde continued in the hallway, and the Great Bear was about to step back into the fray when he noticed that the room in which he stood was enclosed on two other sides by fusuma. This was part of a long series of tatami rooms that served as meeting, dining, or sleeping quarters as needed. They could also have their fusuma removed to turn them into a single great hall for banquets and other celebrations.
He looked to Yakamo, who still pitted his claw against the Seppun's katana.
"Come here, boy!" Kisada shouted. "I've found our path to the throne room!"
Yakamo smiled as though he'd been playing with his opponent all along. He snapped his wrist and flicked his tetsubo up to block the katana blade. The blow knocked the Seppun's blade aside while Yakamo reached out with his open claw and crushed the samurai's throat and jaw.
"Come, Father, there are more imperial bugs to crush!" Yakamo said urging the Great Bear to return to the battle.
"No," Kisada said. "The hallways are guarded. We can bypass their defenses the way we Crab know best—by taking the path no one else will walk!"
Tatami rooms were considered islands of refinement and propriety. One did not wear shoes on the straw mats, and one certainly did not run through them brandishing weapons. Simply having someone tread a sandaled foot on one mat meant the entire room's tatami needed to be replaced. So strong was the taboo that it was generally observed even in the heat of battie.
"Will we run from battie?" Yakamo asked.
"No," his father answered. "We will run to battle!"
With one firm swing he knocked down the fusuma at one end of the room and stepped into the next. Yakamo followed.