PROLOGUE:
THE LION'S ANGER
Matsu Tsuko removed her diademlike helmet and shook her pale golden hair free from the headpiece.. The last light of the setting sun caught the samurai maiden's armored form and painted her outline a fiery red. "See that I'm not disturbed," she growled, her dark eyes holding her commander, Matsu Yojo, in their icy grip. "If Shiba Tsukune or Toturi himself comes riding into camp, let me know. Otherwise . . ." She let the threat hang in the air like a keen-bladed tanto.
Yojo, a clean-shaven man with black hair and a red-maned helmet, nodded and bowed respectfully to his daimyo. "What about Doji Hoturi?" he asked. "He and his demon-spawn troops won't like what we've been doing to their Crane cousins." Tsuko's commander cast his eyes over the rutted, corpse-strewn field below the foothills. Not many of the bodies belonged to the Lion Clan.
"At last report, Hoturi was headed for the
Crane capital," Tsuko replied, pulling off her bloodstained arm guards and tossing them to the ground. "That makes him Matsu Agetoki's problem. However, my spies inform me that Tsukune is lurking around here somewhere. I'll find that Phoenix witch and kill her." The Lion daimyo's brown eyes narrowed, and she spat to show her contempt for Tsukune, Tsukune's Phoenix troops, and their Crane allies. "If Tsukune's not nearby, my informants will be looking for their heads next time I see them."
Yojo nodded, acknowledging his daimyo's blood feud against Tsukune; as a samurai, he was bound to follow her, no matter where she led. "Can Agetoki-san handle both the Crane daimyo and the Doji castle's defenders?" he asked.
Tsuko smiled fiercely at her young charge. "Agetoki's a Lion. Of course he can handle the Crane. Hoturi's not even a cub compared to my general. If Agetoki needs help, he'll send word. But to kill a few more Crane ... ? Ha!" She scanned the gore-spattered plains at the base of the ridge and smiled. After she and her troops passed the Crane frontier, the Daidoji hadn't put up much of a fight—at least not by Lion standards. "Have the eta clean this place up while I'm gone," she commanded, waving her crimson-stained hand at the field.
Yojo nodded. "Hai, Tsuko-sama."
"And remember, anyone who disturbs me will be meeting his ancestors before morning." She turned her back on Matsu Yojo and hiked up the ridge, stripping off her blood-covered armor as she went.
Yojo bowed curtly and turned quickly away. Tsuko was an attractive woman, but to let his eyes linger upon her would have meant his death. He hurried back downhill toward the rest of the Lion encampment, lying just beyond the battlefield.
Tsuko walked over the top of the hill, unfastening the knots and hasps that held her elaborate armor together. She cast aside first her sode shoulder guards and then her golden throat protector and breastplate. Her metal kusazuri skirt and suneate shin guards followed. She would pick them all up later, of course, but for now she just wanted to breathe and exercise her cramped muscles.
Holding a sheathed sword in each hand, the Lion daimyo stretched wide her arms and reached toward the snow-topped mountains in the distance. The Spine of the World, they were fittingly called. Tsuko envied their strength and serenity.
"I am Matsu Tsuko!" she cried to the stony, ancient range. "Today I slaughtered my enemies in honorable battle, neither giving quarter nor expecting any." The remote peaks echoed their approval. Tsuko smiled.
Before her, atop the ridge, lay a wide, indigo pool ringed by low cryptomeria trees and scrub pines. A hoary willow sprawled beside the water, its fat roots drinking deeply of the shadowy liquid. The willow's leaves had long since departed, though the fronds still dangled from the branches like the hair of a wrinkled crone. A subtle breeze caught the thin trailers and whispered through them. The short reeds at the water's edge had gone brown with autumn and limp with the ravages of the weather. They, too, murmured in the wind.
By the water's edge, Tsuko carefully set down her daisho, the paired swords of a samurai. She sat and stripped off her golden-brown kimono. The silk was damp with her sweat and stiff where the blood of her enemies had seeped through the joints in her armor. She took a few moments to wash out the stains and then hung the robe on a denuded mulberry bush to dry, careful not to tear the fabric on the leafless branches.
The late fall air was cool and raised goose bumps on her tanned flesh. Tsuko stood and stretched again, yawning like a great cat. She gazed down her lean, well-muscled body. The many scars on her tanned skin traced a map of her life, telling of a battle-filled journey. The drying blood of her freshly killed enemies accentuated the tale, boasting of her victories along life's road.
Nude, Matsu Tsuko waded slowly into the pond, savoring the chill touch on her skin. She dipped her hands into the cold water and began to scrub away the sweat and dust of battle. Blood streamed down the Lion's muscular arms and washed off her hands in long crimson rivulets. Tsuko watched the gore dissipate into the clear, dark liquid, feeling the tension slip out of her knotted limbs at the same time.
She dived under the surface, letting the icy waters embrace her. It was the only kind of embrace that she'd allowed herself since the death of her fiance, Akodo Arasou—many years ago, now. Arasou had been her equal in skill and temperament. He was the only one worthy to be her mate. The Crane had killed Arasou—taken him from her, and she would make them pay. Even the Crane blood she and her armies had spilled in recent months wasn't enough to wash the memory away. Not nearly enough.
Tsuko surfaced and shook her head. Fine droplets of water flew from her long, pale golden mane and danced in the twilight air. She took a deep breath; the cold squeezed tiny needles into her chest. She savored the pain and scrubbed her face with the chill water.
From somewhere far away, she scented the smoke of war. The aroma sent a thrilling shiver down her spine and made the downy hairs on the backs of her arms stand up. Perhaps it was the smell of Agetoki burning the Doji capital.
Arasou, we still fight for you, Tsuko thought. We will always fight for you.
The memory of her dead love stuck in Tsuko's mind like cold steel, bringing with it images of Arasou's brother, Akodo Toturi. Toturi. The Black Lion, they called him now. He'd been called other things previously: monk, daimyo, traitor, and—for a short time—emperor. No matter what they called him, though, he was still ronin, a mercenary sell-sword without clan or honor. His acts had stripped all the Akodo of their name—even Tsuko's late fiance. The house of Akodo no longer existed in the Lion Clan, and it was Toturi's fault. All his fault. Tsuko would hate him forever for that, even if there were nothing else to despise him for. Toturi's sins, however, were legion: shirking his duties as the empire's general, consorting with geisha, failing to protect Hantei the 38th from assassination, assuming the sundered throne just to satisfy his own ego....
Tsuko snarled and spat out her rage. She dipped her hands into the icy water and scrubbed her face again but couldn't wash the memories away.
Turning, she dived into the water once more. The cold darkness surrounded her, pressing in, threatening to engulf her. Tsuko kicked through the chill, swimming with long, powerful strokes, diving deeper into the inky pool.
Something brushed her leg.
At first, the Lion daimyo thought it only a weed, or perhaps a decaying tree branch. The second time it touched her, though, she felt the rough scales of a body as cold as the water itself. The thing sought out her warmth, wrapping itself around first her right ankle, then her calf.
Tsuko turned, but saw nothing in the darkness. Still, the clinging menace wound up her naked body. The samurai maiden shot for the surface, fighting both the icy water and her unseen foe. Her head bobbed up, and she gasped in sweet air. She tried to swim toward shore, but the coiling, scaly thing wrapped around her other ankle as well,
hobbling her.
She paddled forward, sputtering, her head dipping underwater with every stroke. She didn't dare to glance back but, instead, set her eyes on the shore. It was farther away than she had hoped. She focused her will on it and paddled determinedly with her arms while simultaneously trying to kick her legs free of the cold grasp.
Slowly, the shoreline drew closer. As it did, the tightness around Tsuko's legs increased. Now, both limbs were held nearly immobile. Almost to the shore, she stole a look back.
Behind her, the surface of the pool roiled in the gathering darkness. The silhouettes of the mountains jutted upward, jagged teeth in the shadowy maw of night. Her foe remained hidden beneath the black water. Could this be some sorcerous trap laid by the Phoenix?
With a sudden lash, the creature pulled her under.
The Lion daimyo struggled for air but couldn't get her face above water. Her feet touched the muddy bottom of the pond as the serpentine thing wound farther up her body, past her hips to her waist, squeezing all the while. Tsuko kicked out, pushing with her feet and launching herself out of the water and back toward the shore.
She splashed down hard onto her stomach. The water was shallow but rose to her belly and back. In the dim light of the rising moon, she finally glimpsed her foe.
It was a monstrous black serpent, its ugly head crowned with thorny spikes. The thing's murderous red eyes gleamed in the darkness, sparking with evil sorcery. Magic. Yes. The work of Tsukune's people. The Phoenix had left behind this trap for her. The snake wound its ebony coils around the Lion and tried to pull her back into the deep water. Tsuko's body jerked, and her head went under again.
Fortunately, Tsuko's arms hadn't been caught yet. As the monster tried to squeeze the life out of her, she used her hands to push off the bottom and thrust herself to the surface once more. The water was only hip deep here, but the serpent could drown her in it, nonetheless. Tsuko struggled to regain her feet. She seized the snake's body in her steely grip and loosened its hold on her legs.
With a final titanic effort, Tsuko stood. She rose shivering, the pond still covering her from the hips down. Long rivulets of water dripped from her pale hair and tanned body. Her lungs ached and heaved in the chilly air.
The black serpent constricted, and the Lion daimyo nearly tumbled back into the dark waters. She looked to the shore, scant paces away. Withered reeds grew nearby, but she doubted any were strong enough to help her clamber out of the snake's grasp. Her ivory-handled swords lay well out of reach. The cold, scaly body wound around her like a monstrous noose. She had to fight hard just to stay erect.
Suddenly, the serpent's head rose from the shallows and struck at her. Tsuko ducked. The acid spray of the monster's breath burned across her naked shoulder. The snake tried to recoil on her and strike again, but she seized it behind the eyes and pushed its head back under the water.
The snake's body squeezed tighter. Tsuko's muscles and bones screamed with pain. Spots of light flashed before her eyes as her breath rushed out. She staggered, dropping to her knees in the icy liquid. The snake wriggled free of her grasp, and its head broke water again, this time coming straight for the Lion's face.
Tsuko's reflexes saved her. Instinctively, she brought up her hands and grabbed the monster's neck. The creature's powerful jaws snapped shut a finger's width from the Lion daimyo's face. Serrated teeth clashed in the wicked mouth, and caustic spittle sprayed on her cheek. The serpent squeezed its mighty coils.
Narrowing her eyes, Tsuko squeezed back. She tightened the iron thews of her fingers around the monster's throat. The muscles in her body burned as the snake bruised them. Tsuko's senses swam, but she merely squeezed harder.
Just when she feared she would black out, the Lion daimyo felt something pop behind the serpent's skull. The monster's airway collapsed. Tsuko dug her ragged fingernails into its neck. Black blood oozed out of the hideous snake's eyes and nose and dripped down the samurai's fingers. Tsuko's lips pulled back in a grim smile.
The coils loosened, and Tsuko staggered out of the water. Only when she reached the shore did she relax her iron grip. The snake's limp, scaly body fell onto the withered grass. Tsuko looked at it and then at the black blood on her hands. She frowned.
She had been mistaken; the snake wasn't the work of her Phoenix enemy. The dim light of the moon revealed the Shadow-lands taint running through the creature's scales. The disease shone with a sickly green light. Tsukune and her Phoenix didn't use such vile enchantments. The monster belonged to an army that menaced all the world; it was a minion of the undead god Fu Leng.
Tsuko had heard reports of such monsters here, close to the heart of Rokugan, but this was the first time she'd seen one herself. Its presence didn't bode well for the empire's battle against the darkness. The Lion ground her teeth at the thought that she'd mistaken one enemy for another. She couldn't afford such lapses.
"Damn all sorcerers anyway, alive and undead!" Tsuko hissed. . She gazed around the pool, her brown eyes plumbing the twilit depths—but she saw no more foes. She knelt on the shore, dipped her hands into the cold water, and washed the blood off. She'd done the same many times during her career as a samurai. The hand washing was a familiar ritual to the Lion daimyo, perhaps more familiar than the tea ceremony.
Tsuko frowned again. In the dim light, the blood and the indigo water looked the same.
FORTUNES OF WAR
Cursing Tsuko rose and donned her kimono once more. The silk was still damp from washing. It clung to her muscular form, and made goose bumps rise on her tanned flesh. Tsuko ignored the chill. She'd faced worse in battle many times. She retrieved her ivory-handled swords and tucked them into her obi. Making her way back downhill, she picked up her armor as she walked.
The fires of the Lion encampment burned warmly below her. A rising moon silhouetted dark tents and pavilions in the foothills. Matsu Tsuko smiled. Combat was thrilling, and victory its own reward, but the life of a true warrior was often a lonely one. It would feel good to join her comrades and celebrate victory. Tsuko looked forward to sitting by the fire and drinking sake. Her samurai would recount tales of today's battle against the Crane. Then she'd tell them of her struggle alone against the Shadowlands monster in the pond. As she walked, she donned
her headdress and adjusted her hair into a pleasing fall.
Noticing what she had done, she silently upbraided herself. She was not some maiden trying to look her best for suitors; she was daimyo of the Lion—supreme commander of the strongest armies in Rokugan. She shook her head to ruffle her mane and smiled grimly when the action had the desired effect.
She stepped into the camp; several sentries bowed low as she passed. No one spoke to her. Her samurai knew enough to leave their mistress alone if she didn't speak to them first. Tsuko's temper was legendary among her troops, and more than one warrior's head had rolled for an impertinent remark to the daimyo. Tsuko stopped and motioned to two nearby samurai-ko. The women came and quickly helped their ruler don the rest of her armor. Adjusting the final straps herself, the Lion dismissed them and returned to her walk.
Her keen eyes sought out Matsu Yojo and found him sitting by the largest fire. Yojo and the other samurai with him rose to bow as Tsuko arrived. A young samurai-ko rolled a wide log to the fireside to serve as the daimyo's chair, and Tsuko seated herself on it. The Lion daimyo nodded at the girl; the samurai-ko bowed and scurried off into the darkness.
Yojo handed his mistress a cup of sochu. When Tsuko downed the strong sake in one gulp, he handed her the jug. She put it to her lips, took a long drink, and smiled. "Good battle today," she said, her brown eyes wandering over the rough faces of the samurai gathered around the fire.
The others grunted their assent and chuckled. "The Daidoji run like rabbits," one man said.
"And they fight about as well," added another.
"And they die just as bravely," said a third.
The samurai around the fire laughed, as did Tsuko. She took another drink of s
ochu.
Matsu Gohei emerged into the firelight. Gohei was a square-faced man with a pointed mustache and narrow eyes. His chestnut-colored armor looked red in the firelight. Its gold decorations glimmered in the darkness. He carried a yari, a straight spear slightly longer than he was tall. Once, the Lion general had been a mere bushi—a simple country warrior. During those times, he wielded a pitchfork as a weapon. Despite his lofty position, Gohei still preferred the yari to the traditional katana of the samurai. Most of the time, Gohei's daisho swords remained tucked securely into his belt.
Gohei bowed, laid down his weapon, and knelt before Matsu Tsuko. "Tsuko-sama," he said, "our sentries report that Matsu Agetoki has ridden into camp."
"What?" Tsuko asked, rising to her feet in disbelief. Anger danced across her firelit face.
Gohei nodded. "Hai. It's true. Our scouts say that his army is crossing the plains to our position, not far behind their general."
Tsuko stalked circles around the fire. "How can this be?" she growled. "If he took the Doji castle, he should still be there. If he didn't, he should either be waiting near the castle for my orders, or be dead." The Lion daimyo stopped pacing, turned to Gohei, and said, "Bring him to my pavilion immediately."
Gohei bowed, rose, and hurried off into the night.
Tsuko turned and strode purposefully to her tent. She couldn't imagine any reason why Agetoki would be here. For the Lion to desert a battlefield—even after a devastating loss—was nearly unthinkable. In either defeat or victory, he should have sent a messenger to Tsuko, not come himself. Could his courage have failed him? Could Doji Hoturi have broken the Lion's siege of the castle and driven her troops from the field? Tsuko could hardly conceive of it.
She poured herself a drink from a jar of sochu in a chest near her tent's doorway. She had hardly touched the drink to her lips when Matsu Gohei entered through the flaps.
He bowed. "Matsu Agetoki," Gohei said, and stepped aside.
Agetoki, a huge, burly man dressed in red armor emblazoned with the Lion Clan mon, strode proudly into the tent. He bowed respectfully to Tsuko and knelt before her on the floor.
L5r - scroll 07 - The Lion Page 1
