Battle On All Fronts

Battle On All Fronts
The Empire of Rokugan, assaulted from all sides, suffers terrible losses in the nationwide conflict known simply as the Plague War.

By Brian Yoon

Edited by Fred Wan

Part One: The Drums of War Pound On

The noise rumbled with such intensity it seemed to be felt rather than heard. It echoed through Shiro Kuni, sounding like a thousand feet stamping in unison. Chunks of the broken fortification shattered down into the courtyard with lethal force. Immediately, soldiers broke formation to dodge them, and those who were slow to react were crushed without mercy. Seconds later, the sound began once more, and in the distance another inhuman mound of muscle and bone and cartilage hurtled into the air.

Hida Otoya turned and gestured frantically to one of his companions. Horiuchi Nobane galloped across the yard and gave the old Crab a quick nod. Both commanders winced and covered their heads as the boulder crashed into the Shiro Kuni wall. They could see the army of Destroyers pressing toward the holes left in the building. “Otoya-san!” Nobane shouted. “We need to stop& whatever that is!”

Otoya pointed through the hole in the wall of Shiro Kuni to the hills in the distance. Nobane squinted and could barely make out the sight of some gargantuan creature. “My scouts tell me that creature is expelling a part of itself through its back. Our retreat tunnels are prepared, but we can’t use them if that thing crushes them in his random strikes! We can’t survive if the creature continues that barrage!”

Nobane’s gaze followed Otoya’s finger. Nobane paled when he saw exactly how many Destroyers and demons stood between them. “I have the greatest chance of getting that far alive. The Unicorn will destroy that abomination,” the Unicorn said.

“We’ll try to hold our line as long as we can,” Otoya said grimly. “The Fortunes be with you, friend.”

Nobane nodded and gave a shaky smile. “And if they are not, Otoya-san, we shall ride swifter than any trouble could ever follow!” He spurred his steed forward and returned to his troops.

It was time for Otoya to make good on his word. The old warrior raised his fan and gestured the bulk of the Crab forces forward. He paused and looked to gain a measure of his troops’ morale before charging them into battle. They seemed resigned as they faced impossible numbers, yet Otoya could not spot fear in the eyes of any man standing in line.

“Defenders!” Otoya called out. “The history of our people and the vast knowledge of the Kuni are at stake. Our allies the Unicorn will charge out onto the battlefield to strike at the heart of the enemy, if only they have a chance to leave this castle. Who shall carve out an opening?”

Every Crab’s voice roared in unison and Otoya pointed at the closest unit. “The rest of you, defend the broken walls! Open the gates!”

The lieutenant of the Third Legion whooped in delight and urged his men toward Shiro Kuni’s gates. The gates slowly creaked open and revealed the endless horde that waited to crack open the Rokugani defenses. The Third Legion charged, smashing into the front line of Destroyers with relish. Their reckless assault overwhelmed the foreign demons, who had expected an army cowed by the constant barrage. Unprepared for the unrestrained power of the Third Legion, the Destroyers faltered for a moment. In that time, Nobane and his men galloped out of the fortress.

The sound of another of the creature’s deadly projectiles reached Otoya’s ears, and he whistled tunelessly.

“This will be painful,” Otoya murmured to no one.

* * * * *

“Did we not already fight this war,” Shiba Sotatsu said to himself.

He stood on the hills above a minor fortification near Shiro Shiba, his Legion of Stone arrayed all around him. They stretched out as wide as they could and stared north at the approaching horde. The burning men were walking closer, and the flames of their bodies seemed to mimic another sun on the ground. He squinted.

At least, he told himself silently, they were only facing the burning legion. The Phoenix healers had yet to find a cure for the plague that swept across the empire, but their efforts had blunted the worst of it so far. He didn’t know if he could fight the forces of the Dark Oracle and zombies at once without losing his life, his sanity, or both.

“Sotatsu-san?” his aide asked him, interrupting his reveries. “Will you give the order to charge?”

He turned to the warrior. Sotatsu was suddenly struck by how young the boy seemed to be. How had they recruited such a youth to the elite numbers of the Legion of Stone, he wondered? Had the stresses of war already forced them to dig into their reserves?

He suddenly realized he was standing there, staring without answering. A slight flush reached his cheeks. “No,” he answered gruffly. “Send the order to dig in to our positions. We must hold them here long enough for our allies to get into position.”

The boy bowed. Before he could turn and relay the order, Sotatsu quickly stopped him.

“Send the order to show them the present,” Sotatsu said.

Moments later, the standard bearer lifted the large Phoenix banner. It unfurled in the swift wind and brazenly displayed its contents to the entire battlefield. The reaction was slow but explosive. A few minutes passed, then a low guttural howl began to emanate from the opposing force. Sotatsu smiled joylessly. The banner had been created by those who trained in Yobanjin dialects and languages. He had been told the flag was a rather harsh indictment on the Yobanjin race, parentage, and their detestable leader. It had certainly provoked a response.

The Yobanjin broke any resemblance of formation and charged across the field. They screamed and howled like animals as they sprinted, waving flaming weapons and hands in front of them. The incensed Yobanjin stampeded each other in their eagerness to rip Sotatsu from limb to limb. Sotatsu was glad to see the plan was working, but a stampeding herd held a great deal of force behind it. Could the Phoenix stop them in their tracks, he wondered?

“Yes,” Sotatsu said. A few of the bushi around looked at him in surprise.

“YES!” he roared. “We are the Legion of Stone! Their lives will end here!”

His men cheered. The next instant, the Yobanjin crashed into them and there was no more time for thought. The fighting stretched on, vicious and brutal. Men burnt to their bones and crumbled down the line. Another bushi would quickly take his place. They were too well trained to break, but the Yobanjin horde was slowly grinding them under the weight of their numbers.

Sotatsu held despair in his heart when he looked up and saw them across the hills. The wind picked up into a howling gust, and the Firestorm Legion crashed into the Yobanjin rear forces.

Part Two: The Trap is Sprung

A cold wind blew over the village, wafting forth a swirl of dust and what seemed to be an aura of despair to the approaching band. Mirumoto Satobe squinted and raised his hands to protect his eyes from the wind. It looked like any other village but he wasn’t so sure it was the case.

“Satobe-sama, do you think we’ll find another empty village?” Kitsuki Ketto asked hesitantly.

Satobe’s face remained smooth and clear of emotion, but the man frowned inwardly. His actions in the War of Dark Fire had earned him another measure of respect among the Mirumoto, not to mention a rise in station. He now had several dozen soldiers under his command to patrol the border between the Mirumoto provinces and the Lion lands. Of late, he found he was more often dealing with the plague problems that had sprung up within the lands than any illegal incursions into the land.

“I hope not, Ketto, but we must be prepared for whatever we may find,” Satobe responded. His solemn answer elicited determined nods around his band of young bushi, and Satobe felt a spark of pride deep within him. His men, as he had grown to think of them in recent months, had been young warriors barely out of their gempukku ceremony when they had joined his squad. Each man and woman had seen horrors and dangers beyond imagining under Satobe’s command, yet none broke under the pressure. Instead, they had grown into hardened veterans.

“Where do you think the villagers have fled?” Mirumoto Tannomiru asked. The young man bit his lip and began to chew. It was a bad habit the young man had yet to fix.

“Three villages, all desolate,” Mirumoto Yukari mused quietly, running her fingers nervously over the silken bindings on the hilt of her katana. “There’s something wrong, of course-”

“Something that’s likely to get us all killed,” Tannomiru muttered under his breath.

“-but there’s no sign of any conspiracy or greater power,” Yukari continued without pause. “We should remain optimistic until we hear something that tells us otherwise.”

“Perhaps you are right, Yukari-san,” Satobe said, “but we must be ready for anything. Fall in.”

At the finality in his voice, the young bushi immediately cut off their banter. Satobe took lead without comment and the rest fell in behind him. There was nothing that would suggest danger for his men. This town was completely devoid of people, though the village had once held sixty peasants among its borders. There was nothing that hinted at their fate.

Still, despite the tranquility, something intangible seemed to tug at the corner of his mind. Over the past few weeks, he had learned to trust his instincts. He stopped in the middle of the village square and slowly scanned the area. He could see nothing that would have roused his suspicions. There were small mounds of dirt that looked as if they had not been disturbed for weeks. There was nothing, yet&

Satobe drew his blades in one smooth motion. The sound was echoed tenfold as his squad followed suit.

“Stand ready,” Satobe whispered.

Everything fell into chaos as soon as the words left his lips. Dozens of gray, lifeless hands clawed out of the ground everywhere around the Dragon. The ground shook and erupted as countless bodies rose out of their hiding places. The undead held no expressions on their rotten faces, but Satobe could swear they looked& hungry.

“A trap!” Tannomiru shrieked.

“Focus!” Satobe bellowed. He took a moment to turn back to face his young troops. They were all scared. “Trust your schooling and do not lose your center. Nothing can defeat you if you remain true samurai!”

“You do not stand alone, brave warriors!” a voice shouted from across the village. Satobe and his squadron looked in the direction to see two bare-chested men on the other side of the zombie horde. Judging by the bizarre inscriptions upon their flesh, Satobe hoped that they were ise zumi. Satobe had heard that Togashi Chunoken and Togashi Wirro were in the area. He had no idea why, nor did he care.

The young warriors took heart and strengthened their resolve, but the moans of their countless enemies would soon drown out the memory of his speech from their minds.

* * * * *

Shiba Raiden ran as fast as he could and quickly scanned the battlefield. The Destroyers had penetrated the defenses and pressed relentlessly forward. They now fought at the courtyard of the castle itself, but the Crab forces seemed to have no intent to give another inch. He desperately wanted to join the battle, but his orders were more important. Finally, he spotted Otoya and his retinue as they smashed all who dared approach the armory. Raiden nimbly made his way through the chaos to the Crab commander.

“The forces are overwhelming, Otoya-sama,” he shouted over the din. “My leader Rae-sama is prepared to cut the ritual short and begin evacuation procedures!”

Otoya swept a forearm over his shoulder, brushing blood and sweat away from his eyes. He stepped back from the front lines, and the Hida Elite Guard pushed forward to cover his absence. “Have you finished transporting the Kuni documents?” he demanded.

“Only half,” Raiden replied morosely. “The Kuni library is smaller than that of most shugenja families I have seen, but still large enough to prove problematic. The loss of so much knowledge is regrettable but unavoidable! We will lose more than thirty shugenja in one strike if we are caught undefended by the enemy horde!”
Otoya grimaced. “We will hold them at bay, Raiden. Tell Rae to stand his ground and finish the ritual.”

Raiden hesitated. “It will likely take another hour of complete concentration to finish transporting all of the scrolls, Otoya-sama. We must retreat.”

“An hour? You shall have it,” Otoya replied.

Raiden still did not move from his place. “You can’t stand another fifteen minutes against this horde, let alone an hour. I do not mean to disparage your troops, Otoya-sama, and I have utmost respect for Crab tenacity”

“You shall have your hour!” Otoya thundered. He pushed forward past Raiden, nearly bowling him over. “If you have such respect for our skills,” Otoya shouted over his shoulder, “then do me the courtesy of showing me some! We will buy you the time!”

Otoya charged into the heart of battle without waiting for a response and disappeared into the press of bodies. Raiden winced, turned, and ran toward the inner sanctum of the fortress.

He wondered if he would ever see the old man alive again.

Part Three: Death in Service is its Own Reward

Isawa Kokuten, commander of the Firestorm Legion, walked through the remnants of battle, his steps as serene as the ringing tones of the monastery bell. His cloak fluttered in the wind and Sotatsu could swear he could see the kami blinking and dancing on the edges of the cloth. He bowed deeply to the shugenja as soon as he was near. Kokuten only nodded.

“Your unorthodox plan seems to have worked, Sotatsu,” Kokuten said. “To a degree.”

“It is one of the principles written in Akodo’s great work, Kokuten-sama,” Sotatsu answered. “I believe the Crab Clan is well versed in the technique. I believe they refer to it as hammer and anvil.”

“How fitting,” Kokuten mused. “A fire hammer forging on an earthen anvil.”

“Yes, Kokuten-sama,” Sotatsu said.

“Of course, I referred to our working together, Sotatsu,” Kokuten continued. He sniffed. “A great portion of the Legion of Flame went south to aid the Crab, so we could hardly have defeated the Befouled Fire Oracle’s men on our own.”

“The Legion of Stone was available to lend our strength,” Sotatsu said. “We shattered them, Kokuten-sama. It was an unmitigated success.”

“Perhaps in your eyes,” Kokuten said sharply. “I lost nearly seven members of the Firestorm Legion. Perhaps you are satisfied with your losses, but the Legion of Flame would have died to a man before they would let a priest of the fire kami perish in battle.”

“Their forces stretched beyond the horizon,” Sotatsu protested. “I myself suffered great casualties. You-”

Kokuten waved the complaint off without listening. “No matter. The Phoenix has earned another victory. That is all that matters. Of course, we must press onward with our victories.”

“We must bring an end to this threat,” he continued, his eyes taking a predatory gleam. “The Dark Oracle of Fire must die.”

* * * * *

Satobe’s fingers unclenched of their own accord and his katana dropped to the ground with a clatter. A large trail of blood flowed down his arm, trickled down his fingers and slowly dripped to the ground. Satobe coughed and squatted down to his haunches. The mystery of the missing villagers seemed to have been solved, he mused, and his exhausted thoughts seemed to crawl by his consciousness. A shadow crossed his vision, and Satobe looked up. Tannomiru’s arm hung crookedly below his armor and he was missing his helm.

Tannomiru bowed deeply. “The& creatures have been contained, Satobe-sama,” he said, his voice choked with pain.

Satobe surveyed the aftermaths of the battle. “At what cost?” he murmured. Fourteen of the sixteen warriors in his unit lay dead around him, with dozens of mutilated corpses around them. The survivors Tannomiru and Yukai were barely in better shape; their eyes were glassy with pain and shock at the sheer horror of the day’s events. Wirro leaned over with his hands on his knees and breathed deeply, bleeding the exertion of the day out from him. His former frenzy of energy seemed to have disappeared. Chunoken clutched his arm and stood motionless, his head cocked in a perpetual gesture of puzzlement.

Satobe rose to his feet and brushed the dust off his armor with his left hand. “Thank you for your assistance, Wirro-san, Chunoken-san,” he called out. “We would have been overwhelmed without your presence.”

Wirro turned to Satobe and slowly smiled. Chunoken did not seem to move or respond in any way. Satobe thought he could see the man shiver, ever so slightly.

“Perhaps it has been of use to you, Satobe-san, but I must wonder. I cannot seem to leave my life of blood and death behind. Is my soul unable to find tranquility, even among these pristine peaks? Am I doomed to live a life of war and battle for the rest of my lives, however often the kharmic wheel turns?”

Satobe blinked and could not come to any answer. Wirro turned to the other ise zumi. “Chunoken tells me that I worry too much. He tells me Fire burns within my soul and I must find ways for me to release that energy back in to the world. Some days, he tells me that I will give to those around me until-”

Wirro’s speech was cut off by the sound of Tannomiru’s scream. The younger samurai was on his knees, writhing in pain, as Chunoken pulled on his shattered arm. Desperately, Tannomiru cried out as he finally pulled free from the ise zumi’s grasp, shock and fatigue combining to leave him helpless on the ground. Chunoken turned to face Satobe and opened his eyes. Satobe could see that Chunoken shared the same blank look he had seen in the plague zombies. Absently, he realized that there was little difference from calm ise zumi’s normal face.

“Chunoken-san,” Satobe said. His fingers clenched the hilt of his wakizashi, and yet he hesitated.

“No,” Wirro said quietly. He rose to his feet and spat blood out of his mouth. His hands balled into fists, and he stood lightly on the balls of his feet. “That is no longer Togashi Chunoken.”

It snarled. Its cheeks stretched and split as its jaw extended beyond human limits. The creature’s ruined mouth stretched in a gesture that resembled a grotesque smile. Satobe drew his wakizashi with his left hand and limped forward, holding the blade in front of him in a defensive stance. The fatigue in his mind burned away as he prepared to finish the job in front of him.

The warrior and the monk stood side to side as Chunoken’s plague-ridden corpse lumbered forward. Its gaze turned from one man to the next. It could find no pity in their eyes.

* * * * *

Nobane leaned in close to Lobai and hugged his neck. Faster, Nobane urged, and relayed the thought to his horse with familiar caresses on his neck. His faithful steed seemed to answer by increasing his already breakneck speed. It seemed almost miraculous that his troops kept up with his pace. The small Unicorn band of veteran warriors sped across the edges of the battlefield, skirting large Destroyer troops that attempted to catch up to Nobane’s men with no success. The hectic gallop seemed to take forever, but soon the Unicorn evaded their followers and began to approach their target monstrosity at a slower pace. Nobane knew that time was of the essence, but he could ask no more of his noble horse without killing him and leaving himself stranded in enemy territory.

Nobane could see the creature in detail as they approached. It was even more disgusting at close range. The creature squatted on massive hind legs, its forelimbs small and atrophied. The creature constantly snarled, its drool dripping out in front of it in a wide stream of thick, viscous fluid.

Suddenly, the creature lifted from its reclined position and leaned close to the ground. With one awkward stance, the monster swiped his claws in the drool and flung it into the air. Its skeletal back opened up and launched forth another grotesque ball of flesh and bone. The ball, now covered in the drool, passed over the group and flew toward the castle. As it spun through the air, it began to catch on fire.

Nobane turned to his closest companion with wide eyes. “Kota-”

Iuchi Kota nodded. “I see it,” he said abruptly. “I can ask the kami to light that fluid, but I need to get closer. And I need time there are few kami in the lands of the Kuni.”

Nobane gestured to the rest of his men and spurred his horse forward. Lobai immediately answered with another burst of speed. “We shall give you the time!” he shouted back, raised his spear, and shouted a battle cry at the top of his lungs.

The creature turned its head to its side, as if perplexed by the Unicorn charge. However, it certainly seemed to understand danger. It flung its forelimb toward the approaching cavalry, and its claws seemed to break off toward them at a dangerous speed. The Unicorn scattered to avoid the projectiles, then wheeled back toward the creature. Nobane screamed insults at the top of his lungs, though he certainly knew the creature could not understand. All that mattered was that the monster would not spot the danger before it was too late.

They continued to dart in and out of the demon’s reach, provoking its attacks only to dodge back to safety. It would have almost be considered sport, yet Nobane’s feelings were muted by the many riders dying to its surprise assaults. Sweat glistened on his forehead as time stretched on and on. The creature swung out with its long tail, sweeping both man and rider under its powerful strike. Two Unicorn died in an instant, before they could even recognize they had failed.

Green flames erupted at the creature’s feet. The flames, infused with the power of jade caught on the inflammatory fluid and erupted into an inferno. The monster screamed in rage, then exploded in flames. Nobane ducked, and when he looked up it was gone.

Nobane breathed a sigh of relief, smiled, and turned back to face his shugenja. The sigh caught in his throat and the smile froze.

The walls were crushed in. The central spire was burning. An unholy light glowed from the courtyard, and the sound of human wails reached his ears.

Shiro Kuni was dying.

They were too late.