L5r - scroll 03 - The Crane (11 page)

"By Shinsei." Toshimoko's oath was softened by disbelief.

"His wounds have been bandaged," Hoturi spoke rapidly, "but this man won't live another day. The belly wound is deep, and there's blood all through the wrappings." Looking up at the sensei he said, "This was a quick wrapping, not meant to last."

"Only to get him to Kyuden Kakita."

Hoturi nodded.

"We can reach the village in two hours if we push the ponies." Toshimoko handed Hoturi the reins to his mount as he turned away from the Daidoji's horse. "We cannot help

this man. But we may be able to help the troops at Osuka."

Smacking the frightened horse's flank, Hoturi sent the Daidoji toward Kyuden Kakita. "The pony will carry him home, and that will be message enough for Uji." Striding to his own beast, Hoturi leaped into the saddle with a practiced motion, clearing his katana and wakizashi. "We are needed elsewhere."

Their steeds were only too grateful to be away from the smell of the dying man and his terrified mount. They leaped to the path with swift hooves.

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Toward 'he middle of the evening, the two men reached Osuka. Their ponies staggered with fatigue. The valley was filled with flowering cherries that had lost their leaves and stood bare in the autumn twilight. It seemed almost peaceful from the hill on which the two men rode, but beneath the calmness of the evening hung the tension of war.

Pines spiraled down into a fertile valley, its rice fields drained and empty for the winter. Yet where the village should have been, there were no lights, no bustling passage of latecomers seeking a teahouse in which to rest. Instead, they saw only a thick mist that shrouded long groves. As they approached, the stench struck them with the force of a gloved hand. Bitter, the "mist" was smoke, filled with the scent of charred flesh.

The two men cautiously rode downhill, watching for any sign of movement. The air was still. The silence was broken only by the harsh cawing of carrion birds and the crackling of fires within the burned buildings. A few black shapes stood where once there had been a prosperous village. The road into Osuka had been churned into acrid mud by the trudging of a hundred armored feet.

Through the smoke, Hoturi made out more distinct figures—a house, broken and smoking beneath twin crags of rock, the shattered remains of blistered metal in what once had been a blacksmith's shop. Hoturi rode slowly through I he village streets. Beside him, Toshimoko covered his face with a scrap of rough brown cloth, tying it behind his head to shield his nose and eyes from the smoke.

Hoturi's pony stepped through a broken torii arch. To one side, near a larger crevasse of rock, three more buildings burned. Bodies lay piled near the last, their blue armor scorched and twisted in the heat of the fires. Their blackened skin reeked.

Fire had destroyed the village of Osuka and trapped her brave defenders. Fire had been the killer, but the Lion were the cause.

"Hoturi-sama," Toshimoko called, motioning for his student to return. Toshimoko's pony stood beyond the perimeter of the still-burning village.

Hoturi approached and saw what had attracted the sen-sei's attention. A plain of rice paddies had become a battlefield, filled with blackened skeletons and more smoke and flame. The Daidoji had made a stand against their attackers, giving their lives to defend the holdings of the Crane. They had died for their valor, but perhaps somewhere in the surrounding hills and forests, some Osuka villagers still lived. They would make their way south to the castle of the Kakita. The Lion would surely follow.

There had been no siege, no pitched battle. Although the Daidoji had fought bravely, their numbers had been too small. They had been decimated.

Hoturi rode through the smoking field, trying to ignore the stinking bodies of his clansmen. The faces of the Daidoji leered through blackened flesh, their swords broken and their tattooed arms outstretched on the bloodied ground.

Amid the blue and silver of the Crane, an occasional Lion corpse remained. Drawing his horse up beside a dead Matsu, the champion of the Crane gazed with hatred at the mon.

"They aren't headed to Kyuden Kakita," Toshimoko called from across the field. "Their tracks head north." He turned his nervous steed. "The Lion will have more troops waiting there. Our Kyuden has over four thousand standing soldiers. The Lion cannot afford a siege." As he spoke, another curl of smoke rose beyond the forest.

Hoturi heard the sounds of clashing blades. "Toshimoko!"

Nodding, the dueling master spurred his pony. Together, they chased the sound across the field and into the nearby woods. Once in the forest, even the churning noise of hooves could not drown out the scream of soldiers in combat.

Between three large oaks, in a clearing just outside the village, a small group of Daidoji stood back to back. Around them circled a troop of Matsu, cleaning their blades. The body of a fallen Crane lay among them.

Looking up, the leader of the Lion scout party scowled at Toshimoko and Hoturi, mistaking them for clanless ronin. "Who do you fight for, ronin, or do you simply seek your own grave?" There were fifteen Lion, armed and armored in the colors of the Matsu, and they growled at the interruption of their sport.

"Ride on, ronin," called the leader of the Daidoji warriors, bravely ignoring the blood that stained his broken shoulder plate. "This is not your affair."

Hoturi recognized him as Daidoji Tashima, youngest son of a minor lord in the far southern lands of the Crane. He spoke with the confidence of a man who was not afraid of death and the calmness of a samurai who would not die alone.

"What's this?" Hoturi growled, lowering himself from the pony. "Fifteen men against three? The Lion have lost their honor. Let me find it for you."

Red-faced, the Lion lieutenant stepped toward Hoturi, his hand reaching dangerously for the hilt of his katana. "I am Matsu Hotakura, son of Matsu Demasu, third son of the General Ayoda. I served the Lion at the Battle of Kyu Pass, when the goblins of the Shadowlands slipped past the Wall ,ind dared threaten the village of Kien-shu. It was I," he began to shout, "who killed the ronin Hametsuda when he dared insult my lord. It was I who cut down the bandit lord Yugoro, and scarred his face so badly that his own children will not touch him for fear of receiving a similar wound. Who are you, filth, to question my honor?"

Stepping lightly away from his pony, Toshimoko shook his head in mild amusement.

Hoturi rocked from his toes to his heels as if pondering the Lion's question. "Who am I? I am the man who will kill you.

The silence that followed Hoturi's bold remark lasted only a single sharp moment. The Lion drew his sword.

Two strokes followed. Hoturi's blade slid past Hotakura's. Amazement grew on the Lion's face as a trickle of blood stained his lips. The Lion's hand crept through the open wound in his chest.

Pausing to shake the blood from his weapon, Doji Hoturi looked back at his opponent. Hotakura fell.

The other Lion scouts roared in fury. Together, they leaped forward. Two were dead before their hands could reach their weapons. Toshimoko spun lightly back toward the others, a smile on his lips.

Raising his sword in a vicious blow, a Matsu guardsman charged Hoturi. Twisting his blade, Hoturi slid it along his opponent's weapon. As the swords met, Hoturi lodged a solid kick between the man's ribs. The Lion staggered backward.

Two more took his place, their katanas shining in the scattered light.

Stunned into action, Daidoji Tashima raised his sword and screamed a fierce kiai shout. "You do not fight alone!" With a vicious slash, he struck the legs from under a charging Matsu.

The other two Crane samurai attacked, their faces pale. Even with the help of the unknown ronin, the odds were more than two to one.

Three Lion fought Hoturi, Leaping back, the young prince used terrain to his advantage. He parried one sword and then another, dodging beneath the low limbs of a pine. Behind him, the Lions' ornate armor was caught in the sticky sap of the evergreen. They were forced to cut through the low-hanging limbs.

Toshimoko meanwhile bickered cheerfully with another two samurai, correcting their movements.

"Too slow. Were you two trained by Matsu Kioda?" The Crane sensei smiled, deflecting a blade with a lightning-fast snap of his katana. "The man is old and weary. He has taught you to fight like old men!" Disarming one of the Matsu, Toshimoko slapped the other Lion on the rump with the flat of his blade. "Faster!" Pausing to stare angrily at the confused soldiers, Toshimoko pointed at the fallen blade. "Pick that up!" The Lion stumbled for his blade as his companion stepped back in shock. "Now, boy," Toshimoko took his stance and resheathed his blade, "try again."

Hoturi sliced through the shoulder straps of a Matsu's armor and lodged his sword in the samurai's throat. There was no rush of emotion as the Matsu fell, no overwhelming sense of right or wrong—only the knowledge that ten thousand more waited to the north.

Leaving a man screaming on the ground, Tashima spun. His blade rushed through the chest of another Lion. The cut was too deep, and the katana stuck, torn from Tashima's hand.

One of the last Matsu charged the disarmed man.

Toshimoko lightly turned aside the Matsu's strike and, with a single massive blow, killed the Matsu.

Tashima stared, wide-eyed, at the blood trailing down the old man's arm. "I know you," he whispered, glancing at Hoturi as he drew his sword from the fallen Lion. "I know you both."

One Lion still stood, his sword lowered defensively. He pressed his back against a pine tree and glared at his opponents. "There are fifty more men on the other side of this ridge. They have heard our screams. They will come for us, and when they do, they will kill you."

Tashima responded, "They will come for you, Lion, but when they do, you will be cold and dead."

"We are fifty. You are four."

The stroke was swift. Hoturi watched a thin trail of red trickle down his blade as the last Matsu fell.

"We are four," he said quietly, "but we are Crane."

"He was right, Honorable Lord," Daidoji Tashima said, using a scrap of silk to bind an open wound in his left arm. "They are fifty, and we are four. We cannot stop them before they reach the next village."

"What is the next village?" Toshimoko asked, sheathing his katana.

"Haikeun, my lord."

Hoturi shook his head. "No, Daidoji-sama." The Daidoji's eyes widened at the honorific, and widened more as Hoturi and Toshimoko both bowed low. "We are but traveling ronin, once employed in the service of the Crane."

Their eyes wide, the two Daidoji glanced at each other warily. "If my lord says so,"

"Your lord says nothing," Toshimoko grumped, kneeling to look down at the dead Lion. "But this mad ronin does. Perhaps it would be better if you forgot your lord, and showed the ronin where the Lion march."

"Of course ... of course." Bowing, the Daidoji pointed to the north. "Leave your horses here. It is not far, and we know the path. Master Daidoji Ukamo-san had sent us to scout the armies to the north. When we returned to Osuka, we found that the village had been destroyed, no more than a day ago. There is something else. The village of Haikeun still has travelers from the Kakita Festival. A young Phoenix there bragged of his swordsmanship—"

"Phoenix?" Toshimoko asked. "Was he a young man, rather pale, thin eyes and a twisted smile?"

"You knew him?"

"Ah ..." Toshimoko looked away. "We met at the festival."

"He was challenged to a duel by a passing Crane," Tashima continued, "and because of his injuries, has been forced to remain in the village."

Toshimoko looked almost sheepish for a moment. "Keen as Shinsei's wisdom, indeed."

Hoturi glared at his sensei. "Show us the way, Tashima-san. We will follow."

armies on the march

Matsu Gohei marched at the head of a small legion. He watched Crane heimin leave their fields and houses, running in terror from his troops. The path behind them was strewn with Osuka villagers. Ahead, another village rested in soft green valleys. Its roofs shone in the bright sunlight. Gohei smiled, testing the shoulder plates of his armor. Battle would be a welcome reprieve from the day's march.

"My lord," a scout ran from the rear of the small army, bowing low. "The last group of scouts from Osuka have not returned, and several soldiers report seeing a party of ronin traveling through the woods toward Haikeun."

"Ronin?" Gohei's dark eyes flashed beneath his large golden helm. He was not a large man, but his thick shoulders and wide stance conveyed the impression of a towering

mountain. A mane of silk tassels upon his family armor shook as he signaled orders to his second-in-command. The army would continue its march toward the village. In a grating voice, he said, "How many ronin?"

"Fewer than ten, my lord. The reports are mixed." The Lion armies made good use of their scouts, sending them ahead and behind in order to maintain steady information. They knew the lessons of the first Akodo, master of war: Know the terrain, and you will know the enemy.

"Even ten ronin are no match for us." Gohei spoke to himself, but the scout bowed and agreed with a soldierly shout. "Continue the march on the village. We meet with Agetoki-sama's troops in fifteen days, and we need the provisions this Crane stronghold will supply."