L5r - scroll 03 - The Crane (20 page)

It was painfully simple to agree.

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On the field below, Toshimoko dispatched his opponent with a ringing shomen strike. The blade cleared the ground by a half-inch after it had carved the mon from the other man's sleeve. Stepping back to the edge of the crowd, the sensei bowed toward the high balcony. He glimpsed Crane-white hair next to the ebony tresses of the empress. Toshimoko knelt to compose himself.

His beaten Crab opponent stormed angrily from the field, muttering curses about duels and the thick clubbed iron of his tetsubo club. Stuffing the sword he carried into his obi, the Hiruma stormed through his clansmen, punching them aside with righteous anger.

Another angry child, Toshimoko thought, trying not to look up at the empress on the balcony.

Hoturi, don't be a fool for her.

"Two more, brother, and the position will be yours," said Yoshi, standing nearby. "Watch for the woman. She is more dangerous than you believe."

Snorting, Toshimoko rose. He drew and oiled his blade. "Which woman? The Dragon or the Scorpion?"

"There are no more Scorpion, first son of Toshimo. Have you forgotten that?"

"Save your platitudes for those who believe them, second son. There is more to this than pleasant words."

"You've seen her hand." It was a statement.

Toshimoko nodded. "What dark magic has been done to the daimyo of the Dragon's largest family?"

"Five days ago, Hitomi was in a battle at Beiden Pass. Now, she is here, with a strange hand of black glass." Yoshi paused. "I must speak with her. She knows more about the (>ab forces than we, and despite the danger, that informa-tion is too valuable to lose."

"Do it soon," Toshimoko growled. "She has already defeated her next opponent."

The woman stood once more on the field, and the Fox samurai knelt on the ground before her, clutching his hand lo his bloodied chest.

Soberly, Toshimoko said, "If I also best my match, the final battle will be Dragon against Crane."

On the tournament ground, Mirumoto Hitomi swung her blade to clear it of blood. She bowed, first to the empress's balcony and then to her opponent. In an unusual show of arrogance, Hitomi turned next to Toshimoko. She raised her sword in salute, her black eyes as hard and cold as the obsidian hand that held the blade.

"Best hurry, half-brother," Toshimoko breathed. He nod-tied solemnly, returning Hitomi's salute. "Destiny is waiting."

Kakita Yoshi turned and sliced his way through the crowd, moving with the precision of a samurai's blade. The Dragon gathered close to the edge, watching as the last two duelists

fought for the right to challenge Hitomi's victory.

"Honorable Lady, it is my earnest desire to wish you well in your next duel," Kakita Yoshi said brightly, his caution concealed by sincere interest. "Your fighting style is an honest dedication to the great two-sword stance of Mirumoto. I have been honored to see such a master of the Dragon style. Tell me, my lady, do you find the Crab style difficult to contest? Their brutal strikes would seem in opposition to the delicate strokes of Mirumoto Niten."

Hitomi nodded bluntly, unable to ignore the Crane's question. Other Dragons paused to hear their lady trade words with Yoshi. A breeze from the east blew the banners around the field, ruffling the colors in a vivid display.

The Dragon quietly ordered her retainers to remain at rest. "My lord," she spoke clearly but with a rough rasp in her voice. "There is no style that can master the Mirumoto Niten. It is the sovereign strike of the matched blades, parallel to the sword of the soul."

Yoshi paused to watch as Toshimoko and Kitsu Motso squared their shoulders, preparing for the first blow.

"Lion fights Crane. Don't you think that's more interesting than discussing the Dragon technique?" As she spoke, Hitomi moved behind her banner and pulled her sleeve down over the joint of her thumb.

Yoshi affected not to notice the glint of stone. "Not at all. The Dragon, like the Crab, fight with strength and power. The Crane fight with skill. One sword, one stroke, and no more."

Hitomi grunted savagely, "The Crab fight with cowardice."

"I'm certain Kisada-sama would disagree," Yoshi said cheerfully, deliberately baiting her.

The samurai-ko spun on her heel, nearly reaching for Yoshi's tunic. Her hand stopped only inches from Yoshi's chest, trembling, and spun into an obsidian fist.

The Kakita never moved, but simply smiled.

"Kisada," She hissed, slowly withdrawing her hand. "Can die along with his coward son."

"I don't see how that can happen, Hitomi, if you are here and they are at Beiden Pass."

Almost snarling, she responded, "The Crab have retreated from Beiden Pass, only five days ago. Yakamo's army of Shadowlands filth was not enough to defeat the army of the Dragon. But this," she tore away her sleeve and held out the stone hand. It was grafted to her flesh like a thing alive, creeping over her forearm with long tendrils of black, glossy stone. "This the Crab took from me. I will take more from them when I see them again."

"Where will you see them, Hitomi-san?" Yoshi whispered, hoping her anger was enough to spin the tale.

"When they are done with you, Crane. 1 will destroy them when they are done with you."

A chill struck Yoshi's spine, the like of which he had never before felt. Suddenly, for all his courage and mastery of the political empire, he felt deeply and totally afraid.

"The Crab march on Kyuden Doji, Crane, to restock supplies and heal the wounded that our blades have given them, l .ven your foremost scouts will not catch Yakamo's men. But with this," she flexed the obsidian hand, and veins of stone shifted within the obsidian, "I will destroy them."

Remembering his duty, though his heart failed in his chest, Yoshi asked one final question. "How do they travel, that the Daidoji cannot see them pass?"

"They travel with demonic oni, creatures of fire and acid, with claws of iron and teeth that break katana—and Cranes." She cursed. "The very ground moves for their passage." Lifting her sword to her obi, she bowed curtly.

On the battlefield, Toshimoko's blade sliced open Kitsu Motso's tunic from side to side, leaving the golden fabric twisting in the breeze. Not a mark showed on the Lion's chest.

The crowd broke into wondering applause.

Hitomi stepped onto the field without being called. A cold breeze followed her. On the far side of the courtyard, a panting Toshimoko slowly raised his blade.

As one, the duelists bowed gracefully to the emperor's balcony. Yoshi glanced up at the high pillared area, seeing only Aramoro's shadow as he stood on the ground beneath the mahogany rail. True to his word, the Bayushi guard would never leave her side.

The two samurai bowed to one another, turning toward the center of the courtyard as if pulled by a single cord. Their eyes met, the old sensei and the young daimyo. They paused in the center of the motion, respectfully saluting both the samurai and their house.

On the dais, two heads bowed to each other, the black and the white, moving slowly together behind a wooden fan.

The courtyard grew silent and still, awaiting the stroke of a single sword, the master's attack of iaijutsu.

Yoshi listened to the stillness, hearing each whisper of silk, each shifting slipper and tinkle of ivory charms.

Toshimoko was a silent statue, his gray braid moving quietly in the breeze like the tail of some great, chained cat. Opposite him, Hitomi's hand gleamed in the sunlight, as cold as ice and as devoid of soul.

At last, a bird fluttered between them in dreamy slowness. The samurai moved. With ringing whispers, two swords slid free of their sheaths. Only one sword struck.

Twisting free from her stone hand, half of Hitomi's katana clattered uselessly to the ground. She was pushed bodily backward by the force of the strike.

Sliding effortlessly down the shattered katana, Toshi-moko's blade rang against Hitomi's obsidian hand. The sword leapt up to point at the hollow of her throat.

For a moment, frozen in time, Yoshi looked up at the faintly concealed dais above the mesmerized court. The two heads behind the fan parted, their lips opening in faint smiles. His heart fell to the ground in fear. Hitomi's words rang once more in his mind. Parallel to the sword of the soul....

Hitomi's face, contorted with rage, shone up from where she lay upon the ground. Above her, Toshimoko removed his blade from her neck. Stepping back into the shadow of the courtyard, he raised the steel katana in front of his face in salute to the valor of the fallen.

a daidoh's will

The wide field should have been empty. Instead, it was filled with soft movement. Tents rustled. Horses stamped in broad swaths of grass. The Lion encampment seemed peaceful enough from afar, but within the orange tents, murderers rested.

These Lion—their helmets doffed and placed in neat rows beside sleeping soldiers— gathered not to face honorable battle, but to destroy and pillage Crane villages. Already, three more had been razed to provide food for the marching horde. Three more villages filled with Crane, set to the torch.

Like the flames that blazed behind them, the bright orange and yellow banners of the Lion snapped in the strong wind of a stormy midnight. Around them, the darkness trembled with the weight of sleeping souls. Matsu Suzemeri led more than five hundred men—a full command to prepare

the way for Matsu Tsuko's armies to take Sayo Castle.

In the forests beyond the Lion encampment, silent shadows moved.

On other nights, the Lion would have set sentries and allowed the rest of the soldiers to sleep, but tonight, the Lion troops camped in Daidoji territory. Ten men on guard was not enough. The Matsu commander had posted thirty.

In high trees, two Daidoji men raised their hands, wound willow branches around their wrists, and slid gently to the ground. Beneath them, four more crept from the low brush. It was a simple matter to remain hidden in the thick Crane woodlands, a much more difficult thing to stay silent over the dried autumn leaves that covered the ground.

Daidoji Uji glanced at his lieutenant, the black kohl on his face dimming reflection. The man's blue-gray eyes glittered in the open moonlight, watching as his daimyo flickered his fingers against his stocky chest. Smiling, the younger man nodded. The raid would come soon.

Samurai were expected to be straightforward, honorable, loyal to their lords, and servants to the code of bushido. Crane, in particular, held themselves to high standards of honor and to Kakita's lessons, known collectively as the Sword. They were duelists, masters of defeating one opponent with one strike.

Uji scowled as a branch snapped somewhere behind him. The Kakita knew nothing of using few men to defeat ten times their number. Victory came to those most prepared to take it. Let them call the Daidoji honorless. Let them decry their hidden ways and revile their dangerous and dishonorable methods. Because of the Daidoji, the Crane lived to speak such things.

Three of his samurai crossed an open patch of ground, their dark blue gi covered by patches of darker brown. Uji smiled. These men, forty in all, could destroy five hundred Lion tonight, if the Fortunes favored their strike.

Already, five of the thirty sentries had been killed, their passwords learned, their helms worn by Daidoji that marched in their place through the woods. The ground of the encampment itself... Uji almost laughed. Like a snake through vines, he scaled a tall tree. The very ground would be the death of the Lion.

The maps of the Daidoji showed every tree, every bush and rise. Uji knew them all as if they were brothers. Though I lie Crane lands were wide, every plot had been covered by Daidoji troops. Now that knowledge was being put to the test.

Lord,
one of the Daidoji signed, kneeling before the tree where Uji surveyed the Lion encampment. Nodding, Uji summoned the man into the tree. While the samurai climbed, Uji studied the battlefield.

The Lion were camped in small clumps for warmth. Their I ires blazed high. They would be blind to the night around them, once the sentries had been breached.

How do the Lion rest?
Uji asked without speaking, his fingers moving lightly against the bark of the tree.

Deeply, sir. The right flank has been opened, and the pits and spikes are prepared.

Ten months ago, Uji had known the Lion would march through these plains, known they would be forced to camp in this valley, if harassed by his men. He had been correct, and now the preparations were about to pay off. A lot of brave I >aidoji samurai were about to die, but if they succeeded—if Uji had accurately predicted the Matsu's strategies—Sayo (Castle could be saved. Ten days of constant harassment, of lulling scouts and sentries, of using firecrackers to terrify the Matsu supply horses, had served the Daidoji well.

Now was the time to strike.

Tell them we are ready. It begins.

Two simple movements, no more, and the other samurai slid down the tree in perfect silence, motioning to the others that the time had come.

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"What was that?" A Matsu samurai raised his head, wishing the campfire were warm enough to keep away the bitter chill.