by Ree Soesbee
"Are you going to return to the encampment?"
His face turned white. "No, Taisa-sama. I would rather give my life in battle than return to Lord Yukihera with failure."
Hitomi looked at the other samurai in Kuike's command, and saw agreement in their eyes.
"Samurai do not fear to fail, Kuike-san," Hitomi began, but he quickly interrupted her.
"lie, no, Taisa-sama. It is not failure that I fear. It is Yukihera's vengeance. The last three commanders who did not give their lives in battle for him were torn limb from limb by horses—cut open and left for the necromancers to steal their souls. I would die before I so dishonored my family.
"Given to the necromancers?" Hitomi asked incredulously.
Kuike's voice was strained. "Hai, Taisa, that is what I have seen with my own eyes. It is rumored that Yukihera has ... an agreement with the Shadowlands. He fights them out of honor, but he offers them tribute in exchange for his own life."
"You would say such things about your own lord?
To her astonishment, Kuike spat upon the ground in anger. "He is lord because of his blood, not because of his honor. I am ashamed to serve him; you should be as well. Better that we all die on this field than return with him to the Iron Mountain with the taint of Fu Leng."
Some distance away, a Unicorn cavalry troop charged a twisted horror with four arms and legs. It dragged down the Battle Maidens, who screamed and chopped with their swords.
Hitomi looked again toward the chui and finally recognized him. "You are Mirumoto Kuike-san, who fought at Beiden Pass beneath Mirumoto Hitomi, are you not?"
"I am. And may her soul forgive us."
"I, too, fought at the pass, Taisa-sama," another samurai said. His voice cracked with fear, his armor was stained with grass and mud. He was a gunso, second to Mirumoto Kuike in command. "And I can say that I would rather have died with Hitomi-sama than seen the Dragon Clan come to this. I was Mirumoto Kenjiro. At the battle of Gusnshu, I had the privilege of fighting beside Mirumoto Shiyando, Togashi Yokuni's own yojimbo. For my valor, I was asked to become Lord Yuk-ihera's personal retainer, his yojimbo. I refused. In my day, I have seen great honor—and Yukihera has none."
"You also accuse him of dealing with the Shadowlands?"
"I can say nothing directly, but he has met with the sorcerer, Yogo Junzo. I have seen them together. I believe, when the war for Otosan Uchi truly begins, the Dragon will be sacrificed for Yukihera's ambition."
"You believe this, and yet you are here?"
The man proudly lifted his chin. "Believe? Yes, 1 believe this. But I cannot prove it. I have heard him whisper in the night, seen hooded figures moving within his tent—but I cannot stake my honor on something I have not seen. Yukihera is working with the Shadowlands, why, I cannot guess. But I would rather give my life with honor than live to see the day that the Dragon fall. It is bushido. I cannot question my lord, and I will not disobey—but I can still fight."
Hitomi's black eyes turned cold and hard. "No more Mirumoto will die today, Gunso. Look at this." Hitomi sketched upon the ground with a stick, and Kuike's fifteen men gathered close. "This is another way into the city. Go north, to this outcropping, and move the boulder by the bottom of the willow tree. There, you will find a passage into Otosan Uchi. If you take this route, you will arrive in the sewers just beyond that tower." She pointed at the city with the stick, and then drew a route back to the broken wall. "With Shinsei's good will, you will arrive behind the undead and be able to surprise them. That should even the odds. Use this cover," another few quick sketches, "and your bows."
"How do you know this secret passage into the city still exists?" Kuike asked, his eyes widening in astonishment.
"Because," Hitomi said, standing, "that's how I came out." Grinning, Hitomi continued, "Now, go, and keep yourself safe. There's a girl on the slopes of Sekui Mountain who cries for your return. Let us not keep her waiting much longer."
Kuike smiled widely and bowed. With sharp orders, he rallied his men, and they swiftly headed for the outcropping where the sewer opening was concealed outside the city. The battle on the fields of Otosan Uchi continued to rage, and Hitomi tore her thoughts away from the Mirumoto, ready to rejoin the batde.
"Well done, my lady," a quiet voice said.
Hitomi spun, her hand reaching for the hilt of her sword. Behind her stood a single samurai, his brown hood revealing a half-smile. He leaned on a staff with a flute carved into its head.
"Hyoji." She recognized him, though it had been many months since their first meeting in the Agasha maze. The brown-eyed ronin had not changed in all that time. As he smiled at her, Hitomi felt some half-remembered burden in her heart grow light.
"Your humble guide." He bowed, touching his hands to his sides.
"Where did you come from?"
"From the heavens, of course." He smiled easily. "I see you bear the sword of a Scorpion." He pointed at the burgundy saya that rested beside her Mirumoto wakizashi. "Have you given them your fealty?" His voice was calm, but Hitomi recoiled as if she had been struck.
"Fealty? My heart lies with the Dragon, guide. Do not question that."
"I do question it. And I question why you are here." He continued, circling her easily with long strides. "Throw away that Scorpion's sword, and perhaps I will believe that your heart still belongs to the Dragon."
"Throw it away? On a battlefield?"
His smile was enigmatic and clever. "You will not need it. Yakamo is not here ... yet."
Her face reddened, and she ground her words between clenched teeth. "I will not throw away my sword."
"And what of you, my lady? Where have you been? Have you learned Scorpion loyalty and Scorpion truths?" The guide shrugged. "You have been talking to the Mirumoto, I see? I thought such men were chattel to a samurai such as you. Why did you not throw them to the wolves?"
Wincing, Hitomi remembered her hasty words from the encampment. It seemed a hundred yeas ago that she had said them, and now they rang hollowly in her ears. "You throw my own arrogance in my face."
"I show you lessons. You must choose if you will learn from them. Tell me, Lady, when these Mirumoto die, will you remember their names?"
"Kuike. Kenjiro." Hitomi's coal-black eyes narrowed. "Yukihera."
"You remember his name, of course. So do the souls of those he has killed in this 'hidden alliance' with the Shadow-lands. They curse his name—and they curse yours."
"Mine?"
"For leaving them." The guide looked out over the battlefield, watching as Unicorn and Lion samurai screamed, cut down by beasts with fangs like sabers. A Dragon samurai leapt in the way, saving a Lion shugenja from undead blades and sacrificing his own life. "Leaving them ... to this." A necromancer on the walls of Otosan Uchi lifted his hand, and the Dragon rose from the ground, his body pulled as if by the jerking strings of a puppeteer.
"Not for long, ronin. Not anymore. The Dragon are my people, my family. I am their rightful daimyo, and I have a duty to protect them." She rose from the gully, striding toward the camps of her people.
"You don't believe in bushido, Lady Hitomi-sama," he chuckled. "Remember?"
She paused at the lip of the gully, looking down at him with a slow, appraising glance. Taking the Scorpion sword from her obi, she tossed it down on the ground before the hooded ronin. "Fu Leng's archers have moved on, ronin," she said sharply. "And so must 1.1 have a duty to complete. One I have neglected for far too long already."
The Hooded Ronin smiled, watching as Hitomi stalked toward the Mirumoto encampment. Looking up at the sky, he tracked the progress of Lady Sun across her heavens and tested the wind for foul air. Sensing a faint tang upon the cold wind, he whispered to his unseen companion. "The day of prophecy draws near. Do you think she is ready?"
The wind tossed mournfully, and the ronin found few answers within the Dragon Champion's silent helm.
She will have to be....
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The Dragon legions marc
hed with heavy hearts, following Yukihera onto the fields beyond the encampments.
Otosan Uchi stood before them, its stone walls covered in festering mold. The ivy that had once graced its delicate towers had browned and withered. Storm clouds hung over the main gates, and screams of battle echoed from undead throats. Many of the Dragon marched with resignation, knowing that their death awaited them, and that they were unable to do anything to save themselves. Bushido demanded they obey their lord ... no matter what the cost.
"A thousand Dragon, marching side by side," a voice called to them from before the armies. "A thousand Dragon, ready to die. I think not, Yukihera. Not today."
The wind blew through Hitomi's brown cloak as she stood on the battlefield, her armor scratched with constant wear. She had shaved her hair in tribute to Shinsei's wisdom and her own rebirth. The warrior maiden stared deliberately at the legion commander, daring him with black eyes. Her wakizashi hung in its saya, marked with the mon of the Mirumoto—but her katana, the blade of a samurai, was missing.
Hitomi scanned the faces of her kinsmen, the samurai prepared to fight and die on the fields at Otosan Uchi. If they succeeded, they would save the empire. If they failed, they would doom their own souls. Any samurai would choose to fight against the evil that spread from Otosan Uchi, but these men were too few, too weary to survive the assault. This attack was madness—three legions of Dragon against the gathered forces of Fu Leng. Only Hitomi stood between them and their fatal duty, a duty that the samurai maiden was willing to give her life to prevent.
"Three legions can never make their way through the Matsu and Ikoma guarding that gate. The Lion are confused about their duty, yes, but they aren't stupid."
Yukihera stepped to the front of the command, reaching for the golden sword at his side. "Who dares speak to me in this way?" He hissed. "I am daimyo of the Mirumoto. Have you forgotten your place, samurai?" Yukihera stared at the mon on the short sword in her obi. "You are Mirumoto. If you have forgotten that I rule this family, samurai, I will have to remind you."
"Forgotten . . . and ignored." The words were familiar in their irony.
Yukihera blanched in recognition as she approached.
"My name is Mirumoto Hitomi, daughter of Mirumoto Shosan, master of the Iron Mountain and ruler of the Dragon lands. I fought for the Dragon at Otosan Uchi when Bayushi Shoju tried to overthrow the Hantei line. I battled beside my brothers on the fields of Beiden Pass, and I fell, not to the swords of the Crab, but to the treachery of my own people. You, Yukihera." Her features were a mask of hatred and anger. "You betrayed me. My story does not end there, even if you prayed to Shinsei that it would. I found my way free in the service of the empress, and I bear the burden of the Moon."
Hitomi raised the Obsidian Hand, flexing the stone fingers and watching as sunlight danced from the cold black stone. "I fought the minions of Fu Leng from within the Imperial Palace, and I will fight them again now. But you, Yukihera," Hitomi stepped suddenly forward, grasped the sleeve of his kimono in her stone hand, and tore away the cloth. "You have not fought them at all."
The fine silk shredded beneath the strength of her immortal fingers. It revealed a gray arm, its flesh withered and corrupted by the taint of the Shadowlands.
"You never intended for the Dragon to live through this war," Hitomi said." You wanted Fu Leng to kill our entire clan, seize their souls, and bring back their rotted bodies under your command. Then you would be the champion of a dead clan. You wanted power over the Dragon, Yukihera, any power. When you could not have it, you vowed to give us all to Fu Leng."
Yukihera ground his teeth in anger. "Your rage has blinded you. You are uncontrolled, useless. You know nothing of true honor, Hitomi, and you never did. I am still daimyo of this clan."
"I may not know honor, Yukihera, but I know everything about duty." Her eyes blazed and her lips curled in a feral smile. The old rage resurfaced, not as an uncontrolled vengeance, but as a blade tempered by loss and sacrifice. "My duty is to kill you."
The Mirumoto stared in awe as the two combatants circled each other, seeking footing in mud churned by war and death. "You have no sword," Yukihera said victoriously. "How can you hope to stand against me?"
Hitomi looked out over the gathered Dragon armies and raised her voice. "I am Mirumoto Hitomi, and I say that this man does not lead you. I know the Dragon's heart. It has been said that the Dragon Clan's place is in the mountains of our home and not on the battlefield. I say that our place is where it has always been: within the empire." She pointed to the great city, now blackened and burned on the horizon. "If you would march against the foulness that would destroy all of Rokugan, I would lead you. But I will not allow you to throw your lives away for one man's ambition. You, the Dragon, are my brothers. You are my family. You are my purpose, and if necessary, I will die for you."
She opened her hand and extended it toward the breathless troops. "All you need do is lend me a sword, and I will clear your path."
Five hundred swords leapt free of their owners' obi, and one by one the Dragon knelt to offer her their allegiance. Hitomi felt hot tears touch her eyes as the Mirumoto knelt in a simple act of devotion and trust, swords held out before them.
"My lady," a gruff old voice spoke. "Take mine."
Hitomi turned, her dark eyes scanning the crowd. Mirumoto Sukune took three steps forward, ignoring his son's venomous gaze. "I took the saya from him, but the blade is my own. I think your father would have been very proud." The words were low but sincere, and Hitomi bowed deeply to give honor to the blade.
"Thank you, Sukune-san," she whispered genuinely, her face a dark mask of regret. Taking the katana in the Obsidian Hand, she straightened and held it out toward Yukihera. "I bear the sword of Mirumoto Sukune, the finest general on the Iron Mountain, and I am not afraid to kill you."
"Then try, little girl," Yukihera laughed bitterly, the taint running like madness in his blood. "This time, I will see that you are truly dead."
Hitomi's pressed Sukune's sword into her obi, and then drew both of her weapons free in a whirling curtain of steel.
With an expert flick of his wrists, Yukihera drew his swords and easily turned away her first blow.
He is strong . . . stronger than I remembered, Hitomi thought. He cut low, and she was forced to step over his katana, nearly impaling herself on his shorter blade. Faster, too. She ducked neatly below his extended katana, raising her own and nearly slicing though his arm.
He staggered back, wrenching himself out of danger with catlike reflexes. His eyes narrowed.
What other gifts has the Dark Lord's favor given him? The taint was a curse, but it could confer powers unlike any other in Rokugan—the reward for selling one's soul. Well enough, Yukihera. You may think that you have the upper hand in this duel. Hitomi smiled, thinking of obsidian and stone. But you are wrong.
She swept in close, black fingers curling around the hilt of her katana. This time, she aimed for Yukihera's neck, but her sword slid from the panels of his elaborate golden helm.
"You have turned your back on us, Yukihera, and so we will turn our backs on you." Hitomi's strikes came faster now, dancing with impatience and anger.
Yukihera, too calm, parried some blows and dodged others.
The power of the Obsidian Hand surged through Hitomi, baring her bone and peeling back her flesh. In her mind, she saw herself, covered entirely by obsidian, seated on an ivory throne among a field of stars.
Revenge, the hand sang in her mind with a thousand voices. Revenge, revenge and death!
"Not this time. Not for revenge," she told it with a sharp laugh. She tossed her katana into her left hand, catching it easily and holding both swords. Then, raising the hand to catch Yukihera's sword, she snapped the ancient blade between smooth stone fingers, feeling the metal twist and snap. "This time, I fight not for the past but for the future."
Closing in on Yukihera, she raised her weapons in both hands once more. The golden samurai dropped the
hilt of his broken katana, bringing his wakizashi before him to ward away Hitomi. His flesh twisted and boiled, the gray putty of his right arm shifting to cover his neck and face. She slashed at him once, cutting away his enameled breastplate, and saw maggots scurry across Yukihera's bare chest.
She cut again, shearing away his golden helmet and leaving his head bare to the sky. "How does it feel, Yukihera?" she hissed, "to be one of the living dead? I once lived that way," Hitomi regarded him critically," and I can tell you that there is no easy road back. But since you have condemned me to live among the dead, it seems only right that I let you suffer the same fate...."
"Tamori!" shouted Yukihera. "As general of the Dragon armies, I command you!"
In the crowd, Agasha Tamori moved his hands slowly, whispering arcane words. His fingers moved like lead, unwilling to complete the task—but once commanded, the stoic old shugenja could not refuse.
Hitomi's sight began to blur, a white flame moving across her eyes, stinging like vipers. She screamed with the pain, and felt Yukihera's katana cut into her side. Hitomi twisted as she felt the cold steel, and the wound was light.
She was not dead yet, but the white mist that had been drawn down across her eyes would leave her open to Yukihera's next blow. Her swords trembled, uncertain, and the world became a single white field, echoing with all the brightness of the Sun.
Blood! The hand screamed, and Hitomi sensed power just beyond her grasp. The hand was no longer fighting her, but moving with her will, lending her strength despite the wound beneath her ribcage. Blood and fury! I will not lose you! It screamed, parrying Yukihera's next blow on its own. Hitomi!
Hitomi felt the hand move, and she trusted her blade to it. Unable to see, she heard and felt the ringing of steel as the hand fought Yukihera with her own anger.
Hitomi blindly leapt forward into a tackle, throwing herself at Yukihera. By the grace of Shinsei, she missed his swords and landed fully against his chest, toppling them both rudely to the ground. Hitomi rolled forward, over her opponent and toward the edge of the battiefield. Keeping her swords in her hands, she crouched and turned.