The War of Dark Fire, Part 1

*The War of Dark Fire, Part 1
By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan*

The Dragon Mountains, Month of the Tiger, year 1170

The mountains were strangely silent, even given the lateness of winter and the rhythmic sound of an entire legion on the march. The cold was not unwelcome, as it reminded the commander of the home from which he had been absent for more than three years, but the eerie silence was troubling. It was as though the wind itself was cowed, afraid to raise its voice, and that gave the entirety of the mountains an almost artificial feel that prevented him from truly enjoying even a momentary respite. Not that such things ever lasted, of course.

“Commander!” As if on cue, a scout came galloping across the rise ahead, his horse’s breath coming in great plumes of white. “Commander, the towers are just ahead!”

“Finally,” Hida Tonoji muttered. “What is their status?” he demanded.

The scout shook his head. “Nothing remains, my lord.”

“We shall see about that,” Tonoji replied. Only a few short days ago, panicked messages from the Dragon provinces had reached the shugenja in attendance at the Empress’ Winter Court in Kyuden Bayushi about a massive attack from the north that had overrun the Northern Towers of Flame. The distance between the Dragon and Scorpion lands was considerable, and Tonoji knew enough about shugenja to know that sending a message over such distance was a considerable strain, and usually done only in dire circumstances. Fortunately, the shugenja of the two clans were allies and many knew one another personally, else it could not have been accomplished at all. When the Empress had ordered the Shogun and the Emerald Champion to move their forces north to combat the invaders, the Dragon had received word first, and the Fourth Imperial Legion, Tonoji’s legion, had been on maneuvers in the area. The notion of being first on the scene was grimly satisfying. Tonoji only hoped that there would be enemies left to kill before the matter was concluded. “Hakahime!” he bellowed.

The silent scout was at his elbow in an instant. “Hai, commander?”

“Tell me of these towers,” he said, as he gestured for the legion to increase the pace. “What am I to expect?”

Mirumoto Hakahime bowed her head respectfully. “They are a series of towers built along the northern border of the Dragon lands, where they meet the lands generally controlled by the yobanjin tribes to the north,” she explained.

“How far apart?” Tonoji asked.

“Within sight of one another,” she explained. “From any one tower you can see at least two others at all times.”

Tonoji shook his head. “That is a terrible defense. Towers.” He scoffed. “You should have built a wall.” He glanced sidelong at the scout. “I mean no offense to your family, of course. The Mirumoto simply have no experience at such things.”

“Of course, commander,” she replied. The concern she would never voice was etched on her face.

As Tonoji and his command staff crested the rise separating them from the wide plain on which the towers stood, the Crab commander winced at the devastation. Among the Crab he had seen much of loss and destruction, but he could never recall seeing such absolute ruination visited upon any standing fortification. Where the Dragon towers had once stood, now there was nothing but a plain of scorched earth and shattered stone. The thick haze that still hung in the air reeked of rampant, all-consuming flame that devoured anything in its path, leaving a strange blend of odors behind. “Fortunes,” Tonoji cursed. “Scouts, check the ruins. I want as much information as you can gather. Officers, see to it your companies break and make camp. We will rest here at least for the evening, possibly longer. I want reports as soon as your troops are situated.”

A wave of “At once, my lord,” rippled through his command staff, and they all went to work immediately.

Tonoji was in the middle of contemplating a stone one of the scouts had brought him, one that had been partially melted and then solidified again later, when he was interrupted. “A rider approaches, commander!”

The berserker returned the stone to his command desk and tugged at his do-maru to make sure the armor was at least marginally in place. Many of his contemporaries had remarked of his tendency to wear armor in camp, but in all honesty he had been in battle so much that he found it more comfortable to wear it than to go without. It was one of his many oddities. He stepped out of the tent and looked for a Dragon rider, but to his surprise he found none. Instead, a lone rider flying Crab colors approached from the same direction his legion had taken only an hour previously.

“Hail, Hida Tonoji,” the rider called out as he approached, “son of Hida and commander of the Fourth Imperial Legion.”

Tonoji inclined his head respectfully but did not bow. “Greetings to you, cousin,” he called out. “What are you doing this far north? Do you bring word from the Shogun?”

“I do not.” The rider dismounted smoothly. “I was visiting the Togashi family and heard word of your impending arrival, and thought to join you. At least temporarily.”

“I see,” Tonoji answered. “Your offer is generous, but as you can see I have an entire legion at my command. Independent agents with no formal adherence to my authority have proven less than beneficial in the past. I respectfully decline your offer.”

The newcomer raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain of that?”

“Barring the presence of any superior with the authority to override me? Yes.”

The newcomer smiled slightly at that. “I am Hiruma Todori, daimyo of the Hiruma family.”

“Oh.” Tonoji bowed. “Forgive me, my lord. I do not believe we have ever met.” He looked at the samurai sidelong. “I assume you have the chop to prove your identity?”

“Of course.” Todori withdrew the seal of his office and held it out to Tonoji, who examined it without touching it, then bowed again. “I am greatly impressed with the speed of your forces, Tonoji-san. How did you arrive so quickly?”

“We were on maneuvers in the mountains already,” the berserker explained. “My men and I are& generally unwelcome in more sophisticated circles.”

Todori chuckled darkly. “The life of a Crab, eh?”

“If I may ask, my lord, what were you doing in Dragon lands?”

Todori’s expression went flat at once. “There is an artifact that the Dragon are safe-keeping,” he said after a moment. “I have a& vested interest in ensuring that it remains in their custody. I check in with them periodically.”

“I see,” Tonoji said. “That is a matter between you and the Dragon, I suppose, although if I may it seems somewhat.”

“Commander!”

Tonoji turned to see one of the scouts investigating the rubble waving vigorously in his direction. “Commander, there is a survivor!”

Tonoji started toward the ruins of the fourth tower at a run. Todori passed him easily, loping along the plain at a pace that the berserker would otherwise have believed was only possible for a steed of fine breeding. Regardless, the Hiruma daimyo was already kneeling over the battered Dragon when Tonoji arrived. “What is his condition?”

“Poor,” Todori said. “It seems he was badly wounded when the tower fell, and three days without food or water, plus exposure to the elements,” the Hiruma shook his head. “It is a miracle he is still alive.”

“Miru& Miru& moto&. Jairuzu,” the man croaked. “My sensei& Toraizo& is he?”

“No one else seems to have survived,” Tonoji said.

Even on the man’s broken, bloodied face, the sorrow was evident. “How& how long since.”

“The attack was almost four days ago,” Tonoji said. “The attackers withdrew after they brought your towers down. We have not seen them since then. My legion is here to ensure that they do not encroach into Dragon lands again.”

“Were you& here yesterday?” the man gasped.

Tonoji and Todori exchanged a look. “No.”

“Force& moved through& yesterday. Maybe& five& six dozen.”

“A scout company,” Todori said.

Tonoji nodded. “The Dragon would not have left the area without ensuring there were no survivors.” He looked to the south. “It must have been the yobanjin.”

“They have crossed the border?” Hakahime was there again, appearing without warning as she so often did. It would have irritated Tonoji if he had not long since become accustomed to it. “My lord, we must do something.”

Tonoji grimaced. “My orders are to secure the border. I cannot do that if I divide my forces overmuch.”

“The border has already been crossed,” Hakahime insisted.

“And if we abandon our position here,” Tonoji said, “we risk allowing even more to cross over. I am sorry, but I cannot desert this position.”

Hakahime said nothing further, hanging her head so that her long, dark hair obscured her face. Todori looked at the legion commander with a curious, calculating expression.

Tonoji rubbed his chin. “Hakahime,” he said. “How many Dragon are there among the Fourth Legion?”

“Eighty-six,” she replied instantly.

“Eighty-six,” he repeated. “I suppose I could bear to lose that many for a short time.” He glanced over where the ranks were making camp. “Please gather your kinsmen and inform them that I have granted them two days’ leave.”

“My lord?” Her voice had a hint of confusion, as well as hope.

“Two days’ leave,” he repeated. “You will of course wish to see to your families or some such. Ultimately, that responsibility is yours. You are hereby promoted to the position of taisa.”

Hakahime blinked for a moment, then bowed. “You will not regret this, commander.”

“We shall see.”

* * *

The Imperial Court of the Empress, Kyuden Bayushi

Yoritomo Yashinko forced a smile as she greeted a quartet of the younger Scorpion delegates in attendance at the afternoon’s court session. Although she struggled to maintain her composure at all times, the truth of the matter was that the need she felt to be on her guard at all times was completely exhausting, and had resulted in an instinctive disdain for every Scorpion she saw. There were peculiarities in every Winter Court that came about as a result of who was hosting the event, but it was the most unpleasant with the Scorpion. There was not a moment of the day that Yashinko did not feel as if she was being scrutinized, her every word carefully noted for future study. Perhaps it was because of her status as the former student of the Amethyst Champion, or more likely her present position as the court representative of the Imperial Treasurer. Regardless, she was apparently of great interest to the Scorpion, among others.

On the one hand, of course, she supposed it was only natural. A few months ago, the position of Imperial Treasurer had not existed. Today, he was among the most powerful men in the Empire, and one of a small group of individuals generally referred to as the Emperor’s Chosen. Already, Utemaro-sama had been sending out lengthy letters to each of the Clan Champions and many family daimyo as well, asking questions about the nature and extent of their tax collection procedures. Many found his intensity and forthrightness somewhat disturbing, an opinion that Yashinko privately agreed could be true on many, many occasions. Most seemed to find her more approachable, which was fortunate because it allowed Utemaro to perform his duties without interruption. As for her& well, she was learning to cope with the stress.

Yashinko noticed a murmur spreading through the crowd as many broke off from their conversations and began moving toward the central audience chamber, the hub to which the dozen secondary chambers adjoined. It was there that the Empress held court when she was in attendance, and judging from the reaction of the crowd, she had emerged to hold court unexpectedly.

Her position allowed her some leeway in making her way toward the front of the assembled delegates, and so it was that Yashinko had a clear view of the Empress’ silhouette behind her screen. A member of the Hidden Guard, the elite cadre of shugenja honored to serve the Empress, spoke with Togashi Satsu, who was at the Empress’ side as ever. The shugenja looked pale and exhausted, and Yashinko readily recognized the strain of long distance communication; such things were well known among the Islands of Silk & Spice.

Satsu nodded slowly as the shugenja finished her report and bowed to the screen, where the Empress inclined her head ever so slightly in recognition of her servant. Satsu then turned and spoke to the Empress with his head bowed. As ever, their exchange was completely inaudible to others. After a moment of listening, Satsu bowed and turned to the assembled delegation. “The Empress has received word from her loyal vassals among the Shogunate and the Imperial legions,” he said, his tone somber. “The initial reports that were received only a short time ago, that the Northern Towers of Flame had been overrun and taken, appear to have been in error.”

Yashinko smiled, and there was a faint whisper of conversation in the chamber.

“It is with& enormous dismay,” Satsu continued, his voice halting ever so slightly as he did so, “that I must report to you that the Empress has now received word that the Towers were not captured, but rather destroyed completely.”

A young Unicorn woman near Yashinko gasped before she could cover herself with her fan. Likewise, the Mantis courtier saw one of the many Mirumoto yojimbo in attendance turn away from the Empress dais. Tears brimmed in his eyes, although Yashinko could not tell if they were born of sorrow or rage at the death of his kinsmen so far away.

“The Empress is further informed that the first of her forces have arrived and are attempting to secure the northern border against further incursions. With the loss of all major fortifications along that border, however, the threat of further encroachments is very real.” He paused for a moment, his head turned slightly as if listening. He closed his eyes for a moment, and bowed his head to the Empress, his expression one of sorrow and gratitude. “The Empress wishes all in attendance to know how greatly she has been honored with the deaths of her loyal servants among the Dragon, and eagerly awaits news from her forces that their deaths have been avenged.”

The mood in the crowd shifted almost immediately to assent, and Yashinko saw many among the crowd, most notably the Lion delegates nodding sagely in appreciation of the Empress’ words.

“The Child of Heaven now wishes for us all to observe silence for a moment, in honor of those who valiantly gave their lives to protect the sanctity of the Divine Empress’ lands.”

All in attendance bowed their heads, Yashinko among them. She had never been a particularly religious individual, but she too offered her prayers to the Fortunes that the souls of those who had died would find their ancestors awaiting them with open arms, and that the wrath of the Heavens would descend upon the disgusting barbarians who had taken their lives. Her moment of piety was interrupted, however, with the sound of footsteps.

Yashinko looked up in mute horror as a man stepped forward from the crowd and knelt before the Empress’ dais. A dozen armored Seppun and twice that many Scorpion had appeared seemingly from nowhere, but they held their positions a short distance away from the man; the raised hand of the Empress was visible behind the screen.

The newcomer bore no clan colors, but rather the drab hues typically associated with the rare ronin who attended the court. There was a badge attached to his sword arm, one clearly newly stitched there, that identified him as a yojimbo attached to the Sparrow Clan delegation. The man raised his head, tears on his cheeks, and spoke.

“Northern defenders

Souls tempered in fire and death

Their steel ever true.”

The words were not particularly inspired, but the sincerity and grief with which they were spoken were unmistakable. No one moved for a long moment, as the Empress appeared to consider the young man. Finally, her silhouette moved as she performed a simple motion that was easily identified as part of a ritual prayer. She then turned to the Voice of the Empress and nodded.

“What is your name, ronin?” Satsu demanded.

“I am Ryudo, my lord,” the young man said. “Forgive my impertinence. I could not& I could not help myself.”

“Your simple words have moved the Empress with their truth, and their beauty,” Satsu said. “She offers you her thanks, and her blessings.”

The man fell to the ground at once. “Thank you, my lady,” he gasped.

“Rise,” Satsu bade him.

Ryudo rose, then knelt against before the Empress and rose once more. He bowed to the Voice, and then to the Imperial Advisor who sat upon the other side of the Empress’ screen. To Yashinko’s eye, it seemed that the young man held his bow to Susumu slightly longer than to Satsu, but only for a heartbeat, before rising and returning to his place in the crowd.

Likewise it seemed that Susumu’s expression was one of satisfaction, which struck the young Mantis as strange.

* * *

Mirumoto Hakahime moved across the familiar stone paths of her family’s homelands like a wraith. The men, her men, she remembered, followed her at a distance, carefully trying to match her pace without giving themselves away. Their efforts were noble, but futile. She did not blame them. This was what she had been doing since childhood, and few she had ever met could match her in the mountains of her home.

Ten minutes ago, she had spotted a thin column of smoke on the horizon. She knew that there was a small village in that direction, small enough that it had no formal name, other than to be referred to as Third Northern Wall Village on maps of the region. The column was not enough to indicate the village as a whole was burning, but it was large enough that it was atypical. In her heart, she knew that something was wrong, and that this might be the only chance that she had to stop the yobanjin from pushing farther into Dragon territory.

“Hakahime,” the dying man from the towers had said just before she left. “Must not& kill them. Shoot& shoot them.” His advice made little sense, and she had not been able to find any reason in them in the day since she left her legion behind for the hunt. Still, she understood the value of experience, and Jairuzu had faced the yobanjin before, once more than she had. For that reason alone, she had ordered her men to make ready their bows, and moved the most effective among them to the front.

The scout crossed the stones and looked into the small valley where the village was secreted. The people there made their living extracting a small amount of ore from the mountains around them, and a small but consistent vein of precious metal as well. It was enough that a lone magistrate was posted in the village to oversee production, but the people here were simple and honest, and as far as Hakahime knew there had never been any discrepancy in their taxes in the last century.

The village below was intact. None of the buildings that she could see showed anything more than slight fire damage, and none were currently burning. There was a large bonfire in the center of the village, however; the smoke it produced was thick and black, and the smell permeated the entire area. As Hakahime watched, one of the dozens of yobanjin warriors she could see threw more fuel onto the flames, and anger stirred inside her for the first time in years.

The fire was fueled with the bodies of the villagers.

Hakahime tightened the grip on her blade and grimaced. She signaled for the others to make ready their bows. “Kill them all,” she whispered hoarsely. “None of them survive. Do you understand?”

The men nodded and made ready their bows, evaluating the targets in the valley below. It looked as though Jairuzu’s estimate of their numbers might be slightly higher than reality, but given the circumstances, she could hardly blame him. She assumed position and prepared to watch the invaders cut to ribbons. She heard the unmistakable sound as her men drew back their strings, and then suddenly she signaled for them to stop.

A pair of the invaders had come into view, bearing the village magistrate between them. From the look of it, the man had put up a considerable struggle, as his armor was battered in a dozen places from different weapons, and his face was virtually obscured with dried blood. His arms were bound behind him, a length of wood run under his elbows behind his back. The man was dropped to his knees, clearly exhausted, but one of them yanked his head aloft by the hair and forced him to watch the fire.

“No,” Hakahime whispered. “Not while I live.”

“Orders?” one of the men asked.

“Ten minutes,” Hakahime said. “If I have not returned, or if they are alerted to my presence, open fire on anything that movies within the village.”

“Hai, taisa,” the man whispered with a bow.

She crept through the pathways between the stones, carefully but quickly making her way to the village perimeter. Once there, it was a simple matter to glide quickly between the sentries. They seemed distracted, anxious. Hakahime filed that information away for use in the future, but focused on the task at hand. She crept through the village like a shadow, keenly aware that the time of her men’s assault was fast approaching.

As Hakahime watched, the two men standing with the Mirumoto magistrate were called away. She saw with revulsion that they were called to assist one of their comrades with a particularly corpulent body that they were attempting to drag toward the fire. She ground her teeth to quell the nausea she felt at their laughter. She knew that this was her only opportunity, and so she darted out of hiding, her knife held at the ready to cut the magistrate’s bonds.

“What&?” he croaked.

“Be silent!” she hissed.

There was a rustling sound behind her, as faint a sound as could be heard by the human ear, and she threw herself to the side. There was a whistling sound as one of the invaders swung the strange ring-backed sword they wielded at her. It was lodged in the wooden restraint they had used with the magistrate, who lifted it upwards with the last of his strength to catch the blade.

Hakahime was on her feet in an instant. She could hear shouting somewhere behind her, and she knew that the rain of arrows would begin any moment. She used a double handed scissor cut to remove the man’s head from the jaw upward. She heard the magistrate’s weak shout of “No!” but did not understand it.

The headless body fell to its knees and stood for a second before falling over. But it never fell over at all. Fire erupted from the stump of its neck, blossoming upward in a plume like that of a volcano. Fire washed over Hakahime’s face. The world was pain for a moment, and she struggled to remain in control. She threw herself to the ground and rolled, the sensation of the dirt and stone against her seared flesh agony, the scene of burning hair filling her nostrils. She struggled to rise, desperately clinging to the memories of the lessons she had had with Mirumoto Masae years earlier, the ones that had led others to call her enlightened. With her free hand, she grabbed the magistrate by the shoulder and threw him over the threshold into one of the ramshackle huts that filled the village, collapsing atop him.

Outside, the sound of dozens of arrows raining down on the earth was evident. She heard gurgled cries of pain, each one cut short by the explosive sound of fire. And then the smell of smoke grew even stronger.

Now the village was burning.

Her vision swam and darkness threatened to claim her. The magistrate struggled to his feet. “Every last one of them will die for what they have done,” he whispered hoarsely, “and this village will burn as a testament to their crime. The Dragon Clan will not allow itself to be threatened by such filth. Not anymore.” He summoned strength that Hakahime would not have imagined he possessed, and he lifted her body from the ground.

The two samurai darted from the building as consciousness left her.

Dublin, Ireland Kotei:

Salman Barakat, Tournament Winner

Anthony Doornebosch, Theme Deck Winner