
# WAKIAGARU

Waraji-sama
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © Waraji-Sama, 2020

ISBN 9781370228348 (ebook)

# Chapter One—The End of a Dynasty

## The Failed Mage

Killing was hard work. That was what a certain failed mage on the battlefield thought. His name was Lawrence Cazwick, a mercenary swordsman with some small magical ability. He and his men were taking a quick breather as they waited for their next orders, which would inevitably come at any moment.

The man had been in too many battles to count and half as many mercenary companies. These days he preferred to work alone, though now he was with other soldiers and mercenaries for the war effort.

"I... hope... they don't send... those cavalry men back," Isao panted as he rested in a sitting position, his legs spread.

The small company had just repelled an enemy advance and Lawrence was thinking the same thing, though he wasn't half as winded as the men he fought with. "We were lucky to be atop this hill," the failed mage said.

Hikaru, taller than the average man of these parts, nodded, his fingers visibly tightening on his _katana_ hilt. He was a samurai and wore the customary close-fitting leather armor of his warrior class. Isao was a _yari_ spearman, the shaft of his weapon lay at his side. The other men—other _yari_ spearmen, samurai, and a few archers—milled about, looking expectantly across the battlefield.

Lawrence couldn't see anything, though he could hear the clamor of battle, the cries of men, both in fury and in death. Today they weren't fighting a normal foe and the assault they had just repelled had not contained any enemy units they were meant to destroy in this area.

"Where are they, _Kazu-wikku_?" Nishi, another samurai asked as he wiped dirt and sweat from his face. "Honorable mage?" he prodded when Lawrence didn't answer.

His name was Cazwick, but the local language didn't permit the people to pronounce it correctly. At least not easily. "I don't know," he said. "Be ready." Then louder he called, "Be on your guard. They could ambush us from the tree line." He pointed, emphasizing the area below, the same direction of fierce battle. It was coming closer. "We were sent here to take this hill. We were fortunate that our enemy did not see the advantage in taking this position before our own generals did."

_We might need this position,_ he thought, _for our retreat._

A portion of the army would hold the enemy here while the rest of the force escaped, very likely dooming the men holding this ground. Well, Lawrence wouldn't die here. He wasn't held to this post by any honor—he was a mercenary—a failed mage, though he didn't let on about it.

"Are they coming?" Isao asked, speaking of the increasing pitch of the skirmish taking place behind the tree line. The fighting was quickly nearing their position and a horn blew, one of their own.

"They're recalling cavalry?" Nishi asked.

Hikaru moved toward Isao and lightly kicked him on the thigh. "Get up, you rat."

The spearman quickly obeyed, grabbing up his weapon. He loped off toward the rest of his squad at the front of the group.

" _Spears!_ " Lawrence called, " _Three rows!_ " He wanted a nice long line up front, the samurai would be the reserve force to reinforce any breaches in the line, with the archers waiting patiently behind.

" _Prepare to break!_ " Nishi called. He was Lawrence's second, a reliable warrior, an even more reliable man.

If a troll broke through those trees to charge them on the hill, their force would split into multiple small squads. That was how you dealt with a troll, otherwise they would smash your pretty little lines to pieces. But if the enemy brought their own squads to bear on them as well, things would be much more complicated. Each squad would work almost independently of one another, taking orders from their own captains unless otherwise given other orders by Lawrence or Nishi.

The underbrush at the foot of the trees moved, the screaming and yelling and battle cries of fighting men only a few feet behind them.

"Get ready!" Nishi called, more to Lawrence than to anyone else. The failed mage still thought that was funny.

_They don't have me lead for no reason_.

He watched the tree line. Lawrence loathed not having proper shield bearers, but they didn't have those in these lands—none that he'd seen before anyway.

Men poured out of the tree line, their backs facing Lawrence and his small force atop the hill. Their colors were wrong. They were red and yellow, the same colors Lawrence and his forces were wearing. They were the colors of _daimyō_ Isekio, their own lord!

They were retreating fast. Most of the men turned and ran up the hill.

"Cowards," Nishi spat. "Turn and fight!"

They weren't bad soldiers. Many of them turned to hold their ground again in front of Lawrence's line of spears. They knew they had reinforcements now.

Their commander lumbered up the hill to Lawrence and Nishi, a harried look on his face, a bit of blood and dirt in his bandana. He bowed quickly. It was Captain Hiyashi. "Forced to retreat. A troll just beyond the tree line," he said, pointing.

Lawrence liked his battlefield communication style—truncated and as to the point as possible. The failed mage nodded, turned to Nishi and gave the order. His second barked out the order for the force to break up into squads, each force containing spears, _katana_ s and bows. Even in a small squad, a force of combined arms was much more effective against enemy attacks because of its versatility.

"My men are exhausted and wounded," Hiyashi said, a dour look on his dirtied face. He liked to fight with his mask split, opened to provide small panels of armor from oncoming attacks from his sides, but leaving his face unarmored for easier fighting. "We will assist you as best we can by keeping their support forces off your backs.

Lawrence nodded and they waited.

The enemy appeared from behind the tree line shortly afterward. Nishi gave the signal for the archers to let loose and shafts flitted from behind them, came back down to hit their marks. The Xai Qi forces were spread out in loose formation to avoid the arrows. Enemy soldiers fell intermittently, many of them crying out as they did so. Volleys often lamed enemies on the battlefield, leaving them to die days or even weeks later without proper medical or magical aid. The archers were more of a cumulative, disheartening tactic at this point.

The Xai Qi archers loosed their arrows as well, but Lawrence's forces took even fewer casualties, as they were atop the hill and the arrows had less penetrative force when loosed from below. Bucklers came out, but they provided little protection, though they were better than nothing.

"It won't be long before they send their troll up this hill, _Kazu-wikku_!"

"I know."

Just then a tree cracked over, its canopy crashing to the ground and sending several Xai Qi soldiers scurrying for cover as an enormous, hulking savage stepped out of the forest. Twelve feet tall, arms like tree trunks and legs like bulwarks, the troll came forward, covered in armor and ready for battle. There were multiple arrows jutting out of the armor on its shoulders and back, evidently the shafts that had been loosed from Captain Hanashi's men.

"That sword..." Hikaru murmured, holding fast to his _katana_ hilt sticking out of its sheath at his hip.

"Just keep your men away from her while I take it down," Lawrence replied. "And keep those Xai Qi soldiers off my back."

The enemy forces consisted of as many varied troops as their own, except they had no foot spears. But what they had that Lawrence's forces didn't was cavalry—mounted men with _yari_ spears.

"You can count on us," Hikaru said. He barked out an order and his squad moved forward, spears up front, samurai behind. Most of the archers would remain on the hill, detached from the rest of the force so they could remain as mobile as possible.

"Nishi, make sure the archers don't get flanked by their cavalry."

The samurai commander nodded, holding the hill as Lawrence and his men charged down the hill, intent on going straight toward any adventurous cavalry with their spears.

Xai Qi arrows flitted past them, some arrows struck, but most of the men were wearing scale mail armor which deflected a fair amount of incoming arrows.

The troll, large and snarling as ever, roared, the sheer onus of its battle cry almost seemed to shake the air itself. _Yari_ spears and samurai alike slowed under its offense. But this wasn't the first time any of them had faced a troll. In fact, they were a troll killer force.

Unheeding of enemy arrows, Lawrence rushed the troll as he unsheathed his sword. The creature cocked its head in apparent surprise before Lawrence swung his blade in an overhead arch, but the troll parried his blow with its armored forearm. It attempted to sweep the failed mage aside, but Lawrence rolled from its reach, spun on his heel and stabbed his blade toward his enemy's thigh, his blade merely glancing aside.

_Difficult to get in the gaps,_ he thought as he turned and began slashing at Xai Qi archers and deflecting arrows with his blade in short swift strikes.

The failed mage paid little heed to his peripheral surroundings as Nishi and his samurai, along with their _yari_ spear counterparts, joined the melee. Men fell, screaming, grunting, and howling battle cries. A bloody samurai fell before him, but Lawrence ignored the dying man, jumped over his soon to be corpse and went after the troll that had completely forgotten about him.

The brute was moving laboriously up the hill, grunting and hulking like an oversized swine when the failed mage swiped his blade upward, bringing the tapering edge through the flesh at the back of the troll's armpit where there wasn't any armor.

The troll howled, turned and swiped its long cleaver of a blade in blind fury, but the attempt was a failed one. Lawrence had already backed away. The troll paused for a moment, eying him as pikes from atop the hill began to fan out for the inevitable fight.

The troll looked at him, narrowed her eyes and with a baleful look of teeth and saliva, turned about and pursued him.

He taunted the enemy by goading the lumbering beast. It roared in fury and charged him. One wrong move and the failed mage would be a dead failed mage. Surprisingly the troll attempted to stab him with her blade, but the mercenary stepped aside, not bothering to parry such a large blade and rejoined the attack with his own sword, but the troll pulled back, narrowly missing his blade.

"You fight carefully," Lawrence called. "What kind of troll are you?"

A narrowing of those big yellow eyes told the man that the troll wasn't going to continue falling for his taunts.

_She's smart,_ he thought. Usually it was easy to goad a troll into a blind fury so that it would, though incredibly dangerous in this state, act stupidly in a low-form brawling way. _She's experienced._

Something hit the failed mage in the back of the arm. It hurt, but he paid it no mind. But when the troll's eyes narrowed in on where the pain was coming from, he glanced down toward his upper arm to find a bloodied shaft and an arrow head. She lunged while he was distracted, her blade nearly slicing him in half, but Lawrence managed to lunge for the ground. The blade came back, but he rolled from its edge, the arrow sticking through his shoulder exploding in fiery pain.

Men shouted and the troll roared another thunderous blast as the spearmen jabbed at it. Three of them were swept away instantly. Two of the men didn't even have a chance to scream their death cries before their bodies were crunched. Lawrence never saw the ragdoll forms come back down, not while he was getting up, moving in for a killing blow.

He shot out his hand, pulled the element he was known for, and screamed as many of the archers on the hill surely found the fires on their arrow tips sucked away. The troll turned to face her attacker with a fling of its tree-trunk arm, but Lawrence crouched to avoid the blow.

He came back up and volleyed a fireball into the trolls face. Its mouth was open mid-roar and the back of its neck exploded in blood and fire. It stood for a moment, already dead before falling heavily, face-first into the grass.

Lawrence jumped to avoid the creature crushing him. By the time he got back up, which was only half a moment, the Xai Qi retreat sounded.

Lawrence's forces cheered, and out of excitement for the battle, naturally pursued, until their own horns blew in recall of the scattered squads, calling them back to the hill.

This hill had been won, but the battle today was far from over, and Lawrence was bleeding profusely from his wound. Two samurai rushed to his aid, lending him their shoulders when he collapsed. He closed his eyes, feeling his legs hauled up as he was carried back up the hill. The magical healers would be stationed in a tent near the command area. They were too valuable to keep on the battlefield proper—that was a place for lesser healers.

"Well done," Nishi called to him, shaking his good shoulder. "Another one down. We will win this battle!"

The failed mage blinked his eyes open. "I hope so." He had a lot riding on this battle. He may have been a mercenary, but he had built his life in Omosaku. Having a Xai Qi warlord take it wouldn't do. "I'm planning to retire you know."

Nishi laughed. "And you will, my friend!"

Lawrence smiled just before losing consciousness.

# Chapter Two—The Daimyō

## The Failed Mage

"I think I can hear the ocean," the boy said, turning around to look at Lawrence. This was probably the fourth or fifth time he'd done this to the man, and he was in no mood to be yammered at with clear, yet misaligned excitement.

The failed magician was very sick—on the verge of dying, even. Since the arrow wound, he'd been feeling worse and worse as the days progressed, and after five days of wandering about the forests and skulking along the roads late at night to avoid any possible pursuers, he'd gotten much sicker. The wound was festering now, and occasionally Lawrence thought he caught a whiff of something foul. It could have been the boy, or him, since neither of them had bathed in over a week, but he knew the truth. He knew it was that wound. Pulling the arrow out had been an ordeal in and of itself, but the pain after was excruciating, sending fiery tendrils up his arm in a pulsating throb. But that had stopped a day ago, and now his upper arm only felt numb.

"Enough, boy," the man muttered, leaning against a tree for support. If they didn't reach a settlement with a magical healer soon, he'd die.

He grunted, sucked in a lung full of air. He was so tired, and dizzy. "Go on ahead and make sure." He was letting hope seep in instead of holding fast to his accustomed realism. _A bad sign for a certainty._

Ishi turned and marched up a steep hillock covered in treas. The canopy overhead was thick, so there was little underbrush here. A lucky thing, otherwise Lawrence probably would have collapsed half a day ago had he needed to trudge through thick scrub. The lack of a beating sun on his back was also quite lucky. He was so thirsty, but not to the point of being in danger. He was dehydrated, certainly. But they passed several farms within the last few days, and making off with a jug of water or a few carrots and a cabbage hadn't been difficult for Ishi. He was a good boy. Certainly way too young to be an attendant for a man fighting on the front lines.

Well... that was over now. Their side had lost and Huromata had won. That ruthless whoreson. The failed mage had lost everything with the end of the war, and it had been the end of the war, as he saw his own _daimyō_ perish under the blade of his foe. It had been all Lawrence could do to escape, run for his life like a coward. Never mind that _seppuku_ nonsense—a common custom of these lands far in the east.

The failed mage—he was really more of a swordsman and mercenary—had failed the academy, and hence forth was known as "the failed mage" by all his peers back home. That blasted moniker had stuck. So well in fact, he simply thought of himself as the failed mage—though not as a failure. But then...

_This damn title,_ he thought, smirking. Normally he wouldn't laugh at himself in such a situation, but he was so weak and sick, strangely, things were beginning to seem funny to him. Was he delirious? His vision swayed, but it wasn't blurry. It hadn't been blurry for the last hour or so. Maybe he was starting to feel better? No, that couldn't be it.

What had he been thinking about? He thought for a moment, wondering, trying to recall his own thoughts that seemed to keep slipping from him. He felt like an old man weak in the head. Was this what it was like?

Never mind. He looked up the hillock as he reached its base. He drew a deep breath, a dizzy spell hitting him hard. He leaned over, put his palms on his knees and breathed in and out until he caught some of his breath. After he felt better, he began to make his way up, pulling on tree branches and the occasional vine to help him along. They couldn't use the roads since there were probably bounties to be awarded to anyone who reported information on fleeing soldiers. _Daimyō_ Huromata was known for that sort of behavior, going so far as to even send soldiers into neutral territory to hunt men down. No, they wouldn't be seen. In fact, more than once he spoke quite sternly to the young lad about not being seen on the road.

Gods, he hoped they were nearing a real settlement. Even a large town should do, but he'd have to get lucky. He began making his way up the hill in earnest, but he became winded and dizzy so fast, he had to stop as one knee came down on the soft damp earth.

_Am I going to pass out?_ Those trees were swaying quite a lot, and it wasn't windy. Slowly he lay on his side, the incline of the hill threatening to send him rolling if he fell unconscious.

"Boy..."

He listened. No sound. None. Where was he?

" _Boy!_ "

He blinked and his attendant was there, rustling in the leaves and the grass as he kneeled beside Lawrence. Ishi was hardly his attendant anymore. They were just traveling companions. Why the young lad hadn't just melted away in the night, he didn't know. Maybe he was loyal. Lawrence liked that. Would he have stayed by the boy's side had their positions been reversed?

_Hard to say,_ he thought. But he didn't want to think about that now. Useless waste of mind power. He needed to keep his strength.

The boy shook him again and he opened his eyes.

"What is it?"

Ishi looked at him for a moment, a visible air of worry etched across his smooth features. He couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen years old. So young. Too young to die in a battle. A good thing the fighting was over. At least for now. Maybe Lawrence would leave him behind once he was back to good health. Being around a mercenary could be dangerous. No, it _was_ dangerous.

"Yes," the boy said again, shaking the mage. "A city. Big one. Very close. Down the hill."

"Is it on a river?"

Ishi shook his head. "Coast."

"Well," Lawrence said, "guess the sea will be over enough hills and you'll eventually be right, I suppose."

Ishi frowned, seemingly confused.

He was babbling nonsense. "Never mind."

He lay there for a few more moments. It felt good to lay, to just be still. He felt now that he could close his eyes and just not wake up. His body wanted this. But his inner being cried out at the thought. No he wasn't going to die here.

"Help me up, boy." He turned, grunted as the short lad grabbed onto his forearm and helped haul him up. It took two tries. Ishi wasn't strong—rather skinny, and Lawrence wasn't short or even thin. He wielded a sword, being a failed mage, after all.

It took some time, and much effort, but eventually he and the boy made it to the top of the hill. The mage was feeling too sick and dizzy to care for the view, but had he been healthy, he'd have stood there and admired it for a moment or so. The golden sun was just rising above the seaborne horizon, casting the walled city in stark morning shadows, the edges of the walls and the guard towers were limned in golden light while the city remained silhouetted in black, the purple hues receding briskly.

"I told you, _Ro-rensu-san._ "

"That you did, boy. Now help me down this blasted hill and then find me a passing wagon." He knew he couldn't go on any longer, but as sick as he was, any wagon driver would be hesitant to pick up such a passenger.

Still, they managed to make it to the city gate. The failed mage and his boy attendant only had to wait for an hour despite the city being in plain sight. But Lawrence didn't begrudge them their hesitancy to haul him into their wagons with the city so close. Not close, but still in sight, close enough that any healthy man, or not clearly lamed by past injury, wouldn't have trouble walking to. When they reached the gate, the boy helped him out of the back of the wagon.

"Here," he said, taking the mercenary's arm and putting it over his shoulder. He had to lean to keep his weight on the boy because of their difference in height. It made it hard to walk properly, not that he could walk properly.

_If they don't let me through the gate,_ he thought, _I'm dead. Very dead._

They waited for what seemed ages before they came forward in line. They simply waved most through, but occasionally stopped some people, taking them aside to question them or refuse them entry into the city. Lawrence didn't even know what city this was. But judging from the direction they had traveled, and his copious knowledge of the surrounding geography, he had to say that this was probably Omosaku, a pit of a kingdom. Or was it Mikuma? Another pit. Sure, it was rich, but it had a lot of slums, gangs and rife racial tensions—at least that's what he had heard. Word was that the emperor's ineptitude in leadership had been steadily deteriorating the country. Why the _shōgun_ or some _daimyō_ didn't just dethrone him was beyond Lawrence's understanding.

They were halted and pulled aside. The boy glanced toward the mercenary questioningly, almost acting suspicious and alarmed, damn him. He was probably afraid for Lawrence's sake, but right now that wasn't helping. His heart beat faster and unsteadily. He hadn't known fear like this in some time. He hated it. He felt pathetic. He _was_ pathetic.

"There's an entry toll," the guard said, nodding over to a booth where a man was collecting coin from people entering into the city.

How had he not noticed that? They didn't have any money. Was he going to die because he didn't have a few silvers? Damn, he didn't even have a sword to pawn for the cost.

"I see," Lawrence said as he tried to think of what to say. Nothing came to him. He looked at the boy, and Ishi said nothing. Of course he said nothing.

"All right," the guard said, a tone of finality in his voice. "If you don't have the coin, you'll have to move along."

Lawrence was a dead man if he didn't get through that gate. They could make to rush past. No that wouldn't work. Too weak. He took a moment to catch his breath as the guard walked back to the booth where the toll collectors sat. There were four of them and they were letting in dozens of people every few seconds. Evidentially getting into the city was easy, so long as you had the entry fee.

Leave it to a greedy ruler to let just anyone in so long as they drop coin into his coffers...

Lawrence put his hand on the boy's shoulder for support, then told him to go find some money. He nodded and ran off farther down the line. Smart. Begging up here would gather the attention of the guards.

He moved toward the toll booth, staying out of the direct line of entrants into the city. He must have been moving as though he were drunk, but in truth, he was ready to drop to the ground. He had no energy at all.

Instead of speaking to the toll collectors he addressed the guard. "I don't have the money to get into your city, but I'm a mage, I can—"

The guard shook his head. "No money, no entry!"

"No—you're not listening—I—"

"I said," the guard snapped, "no money, no entry! Move along, before I move you along." He shook his truncheon.

"The taxes I'll pay from the money I make in the city will more than make up for it," Lawrence said. He felt a note of desperation creeping into his voice. "Don't you slanted-eyed bastards understand—"

The guard moved forward, his truncheon moving in a wide arc as he pulled back to put some force into his blow , but Lawrence, grabbed him by the forearm and ignited his inner flame. What looked like scars on his arm lit up, bright as embers.

The guard tried to shrink back, but Lawrence griped him hard, told him that if he moved, he'd singe the man's arm off right there in front of everyone. "Now bring your commander down here," he ordered.

"I'm here," a voice called.

Lawrence looked up to find a man in his thirties with a goatee, hair pulled tightly back into a tail. He was standing on the stairs leading up to the guard tower adjoining the wall. By now Lawrence and the guard he had threatened were surrounded, a large halberd blade angled toward the back of his head, a silent but deadly warning.

"Lower your weapons," the commander said. The guards obeyed, and Lawrence glanced about, everyone froze stock-still as they watched the commotion. He let go of the guard's arm, and the man shrunk back, grabbed his singed flesh. Lawrence hadn't damaged him, but he would be in some pain for a few hours.

Ishi was there to assist him, every step a laborious toil. He barely made it up the steps and into the guard tower. Lawrence was breathing like he'd just run up a mountain as the commander of the gate guard watched him, concern etched across his features. He didn't strike Lawrence as an unkind mind—just the opposite.

"You look unwell," he said. "Please sit." He gestured to a bench near the window. Lawrence felt cold. Too cold for this summer heat.

I'm not going to die now!

"You need immediate magical attention," the commander continued.

Lawrence met the man's eyes for a moment, his own eyes half closing. He shivered for a moment, then nodded, too exhausted to speak.

"What happened?" The commander nodded toward the mercenary's arm.

"Arrow," the boy said.

He nodded. "The Xai Qi don't take prisoners. You're lucky to be alive. My name is Nakamura Tomiichi, and as is no doubt clear, I am the commander of the city guard that patrols the northern wall. My sister..."

If only he'd cease his incessant ramblings.

He was nudged by the boy at his side. He stirred. "What is it?"

"You didn't hear him?" The boy asked, leaning over to look into his eyes.

"Never mind," Commander Nakamura said. "Mage," he added pointedly, "I'm going to save your life. I hope you will repay the favor in kind."

Lawrence found the strength to nod to those words. That last act of calling forth his flame must have sapped what little strength he had left.

Regardless he...

## The Dancer

"Come, come!" Yukio commanded. "Inside, girl—he's very sick!"

"I'm _coming_ mother," Sakura said as she was ushered into the house by her brother and parents without so much as a greeting. They marched her straight into the guest room where a man was laying on the western-style bed, his body obscured by thick coverings. She immediately recognized the signs of fever from the sweat and pallid complexion. This man was very ill as her mother had said.

Next to the bed a boy was sitting, keeping vigil. _His father?_ she wondered, unable to ward off a pang of emotion stabbing at her. _The poor boy._

Just then, he leapt from the stool he was planted on and asked, "Can you heal him?"

She looked him in the eyes. His hair was disheveled, still halfway in a knot on the back of his head. He looked as though he hadn't slept properly in days. Or bathed for that matter.

_Never mind that,_ she told herself, her eyes coming to rest on the sick man in the bed. She didn't want to give an answer right away and accidentally give false hope. There was a lot her magic could heal, but it couldn't heal all ills. Fever should be just fine, though.

"Let me see," she said, moving past the boy toward the edge of the bed. She pulled the covers away from the man's neck, then put a hand on his forehead.

She began to sense his hurts. His ills had spread throughout his body. She could see them in his mind, tendrils of blackness. Infection. Not the kind of sickness brought on by uncleanliness. No, those had a different feel, they were green—not red. And though he was suffering from evident infection, it wasn't the same color. So a wound, then. Yes.

She nodded, the room silent as everyone waited for her to give her answer. "I believe I can save him."

The boy's demeanor changed visibly. He stood taller and his eyes brightened. Sakura raised a sharp finger, a habit she learned from her mother— _I need to stop doing this—_ and said, "There _is_ still a chance he could die."

"What do you mean?" Tomii asked from behind her.

"To heal him," she said, "I will have to purge the taint. He's very sick. If I don't, it's likely he will die anyway." She turned to the boy and gave him a look of genuine sympathy. "I have to purge it from his body by infusing him with a lot of magical energy, you see."

Clearly steeling himself, the boy nodded. "Please heal him."

"What is your name?"

He fidgeted a bit. "Ishi. My name is Ishi."

Sakura nodded. "Please give me space, Ishi. I will do everything I can to save your friend."

He bowed and stepped aside to let her do her work. __ This would impact her performance later. _What an awful person I am,_ she thought, worrying about that, though the rest of her troupe wouldn't think so, and would probably be quite angry with her.

_We dance and perform for the emperor,_ she could hear Umo say, his voice emphatic and sharp. _We are_ not _some roadside show who entertains just anyone!_

She waved the thought away. It didn't matter. Not in light of this man's life. She began to draw on her healing energies. This would take a lot out of her. As she said before, she had to purge the taint, and then she had to heal him. She would be exhausted when she was done.

The man would likely thrash if he had the strength to survive this. "Brother, father."

They came up beside her, ready to give assistance. Her mother as well. She had brought in a basin of fresh water and rags.

"What can we do?" her father asked. Hitomo had a gruff voice and a weather-beaten face.

"You must hold him," she said, emphasizing the need for force in the look she gave them. "He will writhe if he has the strength to carry on by the time I'm done."

They nodded, moved to both sides of the bed and held his arms down. It was ungainly, but Sakura had no room to approach the dying man, so she climbed on the bed and straddled him.

"Sakura!" her mother exclaimed. "Decency?"

"Hush," Hitomo said.

Sakura added, "He's nearly dead, mother."

She still gave the dancer a disapproving glance, but then went to her business of soaking the rags as Sakura leaned over the man's sweaty chest. She noted his muscles—not huge, but well defined.

I see your point, mother.

She kept herself from smiling with wry amusement, as this was a very serious situation. "Keep quiet," she ordered.

She closed her eyes as she faced the gods, palms outstretched. She didn't need to supplicate the _kami_. There were plenty of heathens that used powers, but it was proper to be grateful for their gifts, and so she was. She drew in as much energy as she could hold.

When she was ready, she bent forward and placed both her hands on the man's chest. His skin was hot to the touch, and slick with sweat. She sensed again, seeking the taint that was now intermingling with the man's life force, which appeared as a tendril of red, but alongside that was a white shadow, though there was some dark shadow there too. Everyone had the darkness, some more than others.

_Did this reflect a man's deeds?_ She didn't know, but she always wondered. _Focus_!

She obeyed her unconscious voice and began to infuse her healing energies into his body. Her gift went to work immediately, attacking the taint within him and she could feel him begin to stir. More. He was beginning to thrash.

"Hold him," Yukio commanded.

"We know," Tomii said.

Heat blossomed against her thigh. It was hot. It was very hot.

That's too hot!

"What is that burning me?!"

" _Oh!_ " her father exclaimed.

"What is it?"

"Quick! Put water on it!"

She lost track of who was talking, who was screeching, and who was commanding before a bucket of water sloshed against her back and over her thigh. Sakura did her best to ignore the distraction as she finished the purge, her healing energies now seeking their way into the man, unhindered by the taint of infection.

"Is he awake?"

Sakura opened her eyes as Ishi rushed forward to the foot of the bed. She turned to look at him. He was smiling. She felt so very tired, but she couldn't help but smile back at him.

When she turned her head back, her eyes met the stark green gaze of the man she was straddling. He glanced down his chest, her hands still atop him, her skin on his.

Oh gods!

She hopped off him, nearly falling off the bed, but Tomiichi caught her. She looked so stupid, but at least she hadn't fallen.

"Well, looks like he's going to be all right," her father said, glancing at Yukio. Her mother nodded curtly, evidentially unhappy at what she just saw. It hadn't been that bad. Sakura was a grown woman after all. She even traveled with her troupe outside of the city and to other countries on occasion.

Now composed, Sakura stepped back from the bed. "He'll be fine. But he needs rest. And mother... He needs food."

The boy and the man didn't speak, they just clasped hands. The man actually seemed discomposed by the gesture. It was then that Sakura saw the source of what had burned her—the fire runes etched into his forearm.

"I'll get you food," the boy finally said, and ran off to chase Sakura's mother into the kitchen.

"I'm wet," Sakura said absently to her brother, but when she raised her eyes, they connected with the stranger's again. He stared at her, and she didn't look away. She didn't know why, but she blushed furiously just then, her thigh still smarting as if she'd gotten a fiery thrashing!

## The Old Shōgun

Ikeda Souji finished his rice and sat his bowl and chopsticks down, allowing the servants to come and take the dish and eating utensils away. He drank some of the _sakè._ Normally he wouldn't touch alcohol so early in the day, but he was old now. And besides, he was the _shōgun_. He could do almost anything he wanted.

Normally he'd have been challenged by one of his _daimyō_ s by now for succession of the role, but times had been peaceful, relatively speaking. And _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi was too powerful to be challenged by any of the lesser lords anyway.

Souji nodded to himself as he took another sip of his wine. Sakuraichi had always cared too much for the country as a whole to let it decline into constant feudal warfare. He was a good man to work with. A good successor, so much so that Souji would choose him to succeed him. He had no fear that his power would be wrested away by force—not by Sakuraichi.

"Father?"

The old _shōgun_ broke from his contemplation to make eye contact with his daughter. He couldn't help but smile, knowing she and his beautiful wife of forty-three years would be safe even in the foreseeable future. "What is it, my sweet?"

"May I be excused?" she asked, her voice silky and feminine. At nineteen, she was soon to be married to one of his _daimyō_ s. Sakuraichi was too old, but would that he was not already married, or Souji would have her marry him, to cement their friendship into familial bonds.

_Perhaps his son?_ he thought. _But the boy is only sixteen._

"Souji?" his wife's voice came from the other side of the table. She had just set her rice bowl and chopsticks down, whereupon the servants quickly snatched them away. She put her hands flatly on her thighs. "You're doing it again." She chuckled, and so did Souji.

"I'm sorry," he told her. He turned to his daughter and nodded. "Where are you going?"

She smiled sweetly. "Lady Tamiko wishes to take tea with me. We've agreed upon the time beforehand."

The old _shōgun_ grunted acknowledgement and waved a hand. "Of course you may go. "

His daughter composed herself and made to leave the dining chamber.

"Enjoy yourself," he called after her.

He exchanged looks with his wife, and she said, "It's that that time. She's due to be married—should have been last year."

"Hmm." He stroked his bearded chin. "I was thinking the same. But I hate to lose our only child."

"I know, dear."

They sat for a moment and the _shōgun_ finally said, "I have some ideas. But I want you to give me council on this as well, wife."

"Oh, I intend to," she said.

He chuckled. "I know." He got up, grunting as his old bones ached. It was his left knee, an old wound he'd gotten in a battle decades past. "Now I must leave to visit _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi. He's expressed concerns about the emperor's safety tonight and wishes to take my council."

"As he should." She stood and followed him out of the room. "You give him too much power. _You_ are the _shōgun_ , not him."

"I know my business, wife." __

_Always so strongly for the old ways,_ he thought as he watched her. She sighed. _We've moved beyond that, haven't we?_

"At least have him here, in your own castle instead of going to him."

He grunted. The truth was, he was a bored old man and he wanted an excuse to get out of this shut up fortress. "I'll be fine. Yoshi and his samurai will be there."

His wife scoffed. "That old dog is as tired as you are, my love."

He laughed. Once the _shōgun_ had not been such a light-hearted man. But now, it was best to take things in a different light.

At least from the wife!

"Another reason to name Sakuraichi my successor."

"What?!"

He was taken aback momentarily. "Did I say that out loud?" He couldn't believe it. "Never mind that," he said, a mild note of sternness in his tone. "I'll see you tonight. The emperor expects us."

"I know he does. Have a safe walk, dear."

He smiled. "I intend to," then without warning he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

She flinched, not because she was negatively impacted, but because nobles of their station did not make shows of affection in public, meaning in front of the servants.

She smiled wickedly. "Scandalous old man."

He laughed, then crossed the threshold out into the yard.

# Chapter Three—Repayment of a Debt

## The Failed Mage

He felt fine. This would be easy. He'd had until midday to recuperate. Lawrence wouldn't have any trouble forcing some street-rat thugs to cooperate. Apparently the city was infested by local gangs, all fighting and gnashing to get an advantage over their competitors. They forced a lot of local farmers and artisans to pay them monthly coin for "protection," as Tomiichi and Hitomo were telling him. A known problem that persisted anywhere there was unchecked crime. It was as old as the hills.

The four of them were standing in an alley after leaving the Nakamura residence. There had been a palpable fear at the house before they left. Neither Tomiichi nor his father said anything to the two women, but the mercenary saw them exchange looks, and Sakura told them to be careful as they headed out.

They stalked through a lot of narrow streets and alleys, taking a winding path for nearly an hour before Hitomo abruptly stopped at the end of an alley that dead-ended, no one in sight, though the odd voice or occasional shout could be heard from the residences overhead, which seemed to story upward higher than the sun itself. It was chilly back here, and dark.

"I want to come with you," Ishi demanded.

Why he had let Ishi trail them this far, he didn't know. Lawrence was mildly out of breath, but he felt the strength to head into an alley fight. "I said no."

"But—"

"You packed my tent and washed my clothes. You've never fought on the battlefield, much less a tavern brawl. I _don't_ need you getting in my way, boy. Go back!"

Had it not been for the young man, Lawrence would probably be dead. He had awoken with a tourniquet wrapped around his upper arm, having had no medical treatment, and certainly no magical intervention for the wound. He had stumbled back to his tent, the whole area on the verge of being taken by the enemy. That's where he had found the boy, waiting for him, dutifully as ever and in a near fit of tears due to his prolonged absence.

_The best attendant the gods ever knew,_ he thought. _He waited for me even though they had been defeated in the field, the enemy closing in._

The boy let out an exasperated sound. Lawrence ruffled his hair, sending him into further annoyance. He shrank away, face reddening in front of Tomiichi and his father, a grizzled old war veteran.

The gate commander laughed. "Don't worry. You'll get your chance soon enough." Abruptly he became stone-faced, as if he remembered that levity was forbidden. "Right now your friend is right. You need to stay behind. These men are no gutter rats. They'll kill you without a second thought, or sell you as a slave to some filthy cat eye."

The boy, clearly dejected, nodded and began to make his way back. "Be careful," Hitomo said. This is no place to walk alone. Keep your eyes open." He said the last part while gesturing to his own eyes with two fingers. Then the old man strode over to him and removed his _wakizashi_ from his sash and handed it to him. Ishi hesitated, but took the weapon when Hitomo pushed it toward him. "Take it."

They watched the boy walk down the alley and turn out of sight before getting down to business.

_Good,_ Lawrence thought. _Most of my friends died last week. I don't want a child's death on my hands._

He made eye contact with each man in turn, then said, "Why do you need me? Surely you have friends or underlings willing to take care of your problem. What does a city watch commander and an old samurai need with a mercenary mage? Aren't they just some back-alley thugs?"

"They have many numbers," Hitomo said. "It is true, many of them are simply thugs, but put enough of them together and you have an army."

"You want me to fight an army?" the failed mage asked incredulously. "I've nearly been killed once this past fortnight.

Hitomo looked thoughtful.

"I still think you should wait," Tomiichi said. "Gather your full strength."

Why wouldn't they tell him what this gang did to them? Were they hiding something? Lawrence had no qualms about searing some flesh, not when the flesh involved was that of filthy gutter scum forcing honest folk to pay taxes they didn't owe. But this was about more than extortion.

_And I'm getting sentimental,_ he thought. _Some mercenary I am._

"How many are there?"

"Their headquarters might have twenty or thirty fighters, but no more than that," Tomiichi said, then glanced about furtively. These men were afraid of being seen dealing with a mercenary about to be sent to go attack this gang. Perhaps they should be. Reprisal attacks would surely come afterward.

Lawrence said as much, but the father and son simply ignored the idea. They seemed nervous, though. Finally, impatient and tired of waiting, Lawrence said, "I'm grateful that you took me in, Nakamura-san, and that your daughter saved my life. But if you don't tell me what your aims are, there could be problems. I don't like stalking into unscouted territory waiting to be ambushed."

The old man squeezed his eyes shut. He seemed to be battling between anger and fear, and being an old warrior, Lawrence guessed leaning more to the side of anger.

"It's my other sister," Tomiichi said. "Yoko."

Lawrence frowned. Fear then, and anger at not being able to do anything about it. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

The old man gritted his teeth and Tomiichi spoke on. "It's a great dishonor what they've done to her—to us. Our family is proud. Sakura could be ruined, kicked out of her troupe. The _Akaima Dancing Fans_ performs for the Emperor himself! And that's nothing to say of poor Yoko's future."

"That's why you did nothing when they took her away?"

"I almost did," Hitomo said. He snarled. "I marched up to their front doors, _katana_ in hand, ready to strike the heads from their shoulders, but..."

"I stopped him," Tomiichi said. "I wanted to join him, but we're only two men, and besides, Yoko was missing for nearly two days before they sent us any demands. The damage has been done, and we would be lying in a heap in some alley had we gone in on that day."

"Better that it be me," Lawrence said. He wasn't being sardonic, just a statement of fact. That's what mercenaries were for. They were expendable.

"No!" Hitomo barked.

"Easy," Tomiichi said, putting a hand on his father's shoulder. "He didn't mean anything by it."

"We're coming in with you," Hitomo said, clearly one hair's breadth from snarling at the failed mage. He swung a wrapped package off his back and revealed two _katana_ hilts therein.

"You'll be seen," Lawrence warned.

Hitomo said nothing, simply gestured over his face that they would be going incognito. Now Lawrence realized that they were both dressed in plain, low-cut breeches and tunics of a drab blue, almost grey. They were both wearing _jika-tabi,_ a sturdy, close-fitting type of footwear split at the toe, common with _ninja,_ while he wore his tattered leather boots.

"Fine," Lawrence said. "We go in together, get your daughter and get out. But they'll know it was you."

"We don't care," Tomiichi said. "No one but us and them will know, and if they come after us later, we'll fight them, except this time we'll be ready."

Looking to the gate watch commander, he said, "Why not get the city guard involved?"

"We do _not_ want a scandal," Hitomo said. The words evidently pained him. His conflict between doing anything to rescue his daughter and preserving his family's reputation must have been difficult.

"And if either of you are killed?"

"So be it," Hitomo said. "It's the duty of a father to protect his children."

"And that of a brother! We'll avoid a scandal if we can, but not at all costs."

"All right," Lawrence said. "But we do this my way."

They both nodded.

"Then let's go." He began walking down the alley, then called behind his shoulder. Brooking no argument, he said, "Go back, boy..."

## The Failed Mage

Grey clouds had wept in by now and the skies were overcast. It would probably rain soon. Lawrence left the other two men in a nearby street as he surveyed the headquarters of this gang. Apparently they called themselves The Sable Adventurers. On their guild sign was an Oni and a cat eye shaking hands, both equipped with armor and weaponry.

_So,_ the failed mage thought, _they call themselves an adventurer's guild. I wonder if they have to be registered as such._

Either way, it was clearly a cover for their criminal operations. He stood under an eve of a closed shop, thinking about the best course of action as a human, dressed much like the two on their guild sign, left the headquarters entrance. The guild's two large double doors were held open to allow its members in and out easily while two guards, another human and a red-skinned Oni with nubs for horns stood guard, their bodies covered in leather armor, small pole arms at their sides.

The guards looked at him from across the street, their gazes lingering a little too long. It was time to leave. Unfortunately, Lawrence didn't see any points of easy access from the front of their headquarters. The place was on street level and looked to be three or four stories, with old residences atop it, the eves and clothes drying across lines gave the space between both sides of the street a colorful but cluttered canopy feel. He decided to check the street behind the headquarters.

It was more of the same, but the streets behind the building were much narrower, more winding, and like the front entry, the back door had guards as well, but these seemed much more lax. There were four of them, sitting around a barrel and dicing atop it as one man stood lookout, his back against the wall as he watched laborers haul crates from a wagon cart.

If Lawrence went to the back entry, he would immediately seem suspicious to them. _This isn't going to work,_ he thought. He felt fine, and decided what to do. Hitomo and Tomiichi probably wouldn't like it, but brashness could be an excellent strategy in surprising your enemy.

## The Old Shōgun

The old _shōgun_ was taking tea with the most powerful of his _daimyō_ s. Sakuraichi Ujio was a man in his early forties who was the most passionate about the country, the least likely of his _daimyō_ s to challenge him for personal gain. He was sincere, spoke little and had a severe countenance. Sometimes Souji felt that in his old age, their differences in personality were incompatible, but the old man used to be just as hard and unyielding as Sakuraichi, so he made it work. He was proud that this man would be the next _shōgun_.

_I should tell him,_ he thought. _Yes, today. Right now._

"The tea is very good," he said, smiling as he gestured with the small ceramic. He glanced over to where Yoshi sat, his grey goatee long enough to be visible below the base of his own ceramic from which he was sipping. He nodded in agreement. "It is very good."

The _daimyō_ wasn't drinking his tea. "Only the finest for my esteemed guest." Normally he would have clapped his hands together and bowed ever so slightly, but today he only nodded. _Unusual,_ the old Souji thought.

"Are you worried, my friend?" he asked Sakuraichi.

"Not worried," the dour _daimyō_ replied. "I'm saddened."

Souji frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The state of our country is in decline. It has been for many years now. The Emperor has little of the same power the former rulers of our nation had and the other _daimyō_ s are fat and lazy, unwilling to do what must be done—all but a select few. If Xai Qi attacked us tomorrow, we would not be able to repel their advance into our lands."

The old _shōgun_ was taken aback. He didn't understand. Sakuraichi never spoke like this before. Never uttered so much as a hint of similar sentiment to him within all the time they had known each other.

"These are very heavy words," Souji said. "Tell me what is on your mind, my friend."

Yoshi said nothing. The _Shōgun_ and his _daimyō_ were speaking now. The old samurai would say nothing unless addressed directly, despite the fact Souji allowed him to speak his mind when they were at home. Usually.

"I'm talking about the Emperor and his father before him. They have opened this land to our enemies and now we are paying the price for this foolishness."

Souji flinched. "Foolishness? You dare call the edicts of our glorious emperor 'foolish'?"

"Yes," Sakuraichi said. "He is a fool. His father invites the world into our nation and expects what? Peace and harmony of abundance? These foreigners have been making inroads into every fabric of our society with their customs and religions, their politics—even their ways of thinking."

Souji couldn't believe what he was hearing. These were all good things—they enriched the country, made it wealthy, and best of all, there was peace without the need for constant in-fighting. "I thought you were different," Souji. He felt his face flush, his ears throbbing as he said those words through his teeth. "It seems I was wrong. You are wholly of the old cloth, a warmongering _daimyō_."

"I am what this country needs me to be, Ikeda Souji." Sakuraichi, perfectly composed until now, clenched his hands, which had been lying flat on his thighs, a measure of respect and peace. But now... fists, an altogether opposite gesture.

The old _shōgun_ wanted to spit, but he would not. Instead he narrowed his eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You know of what I really speak, Ikeda. You are the _shōgun_. These things don't escape your notice. Our streets are teeming with them. They're everywhere, in every city, spreading their corruptions while our own people shrink. We're losing influence in our own nation. I recently heard talk in the Emperor's court that _Daimyō_ Shoujo was making jokes about how we should allow foreigners to become samurai!"

"I do not think that—"

"Preposterous," Sakuraichi interrupted. "How long will it be until it _would actually make sense_ to allow them to become samurai? And then what next? _Daimyō_ s? Emperors? We're losing our country, Ikeda. It begins with the crossing of small rivers, but then we make new boundaries, ones we would have never dreamed of contemplating before—I don't know why I'm explaining myself—do you have the mind of a child, or a feeble old man?!"

Souji flinched, drew in a sharp breath and stared Sakuraichi down for a moment. He felt as though he had fallen from a horse, that he was winded and dizzy. He had no other course but to stand and leave. He got up a little too fast, causing his knee to smart with the old wound. " _I will not take this from you, Daimyō Sakuraichi!_ " He pointed a meaty finger at the man. "Apologize at once, or I will have you stripped of your station!"

The _daimyō_ stood, and by this time the old _shōgun_ could see the shadows of a dozen men behind the _washi_ , waiting in the courtyard. "It is time things changed in this country. I will not sit while everything is ruined."

Souji recognized the distinct figure of a samurai with his hand on his _katana_ hilt, ready to draw his blade with a death slash.

"Yoshi!" he screamed, drawing his own blade.

The door opened and Sakuraichi's samurai rushed into the room. The _daimyō_ didn't even deign to back away as they fought for their lives.

It was over in a second. The old _shōgun_ lay on the _tatami_ mats, his hot life-blood pouring out of him. He heard voices. The _daimyō_ walking away as he gave orders to one of his subordinates. Yoshi was somewhere, but the old man couldn't move enough to look for him. Where was he?

Souji had to warn the Emperor. He had to warn _someone!_ But as his vision dimmed, he cared less about that. He knew he would be dead in moments.

As he drifted away, the only thing he could think of was Mitsue. She had been a good wife. And there was Naoki, his daughter. So beautiful. Would they be safe?

## The Daimyō

After giving his samurai their orders, Ujio Sakuraichi went into the adjoining courtyard where the garden was. He stepped slowly along the stone path, listening to the wind blow through the flowers. The clouds had thickened, giving the day respite from the hot summer sun. He thought he felt a drop on his forehead.

Good. The blood will need to be washed away.

Suddenly he winced. Souji had been a fool, just like the Emperor was a fool. He had hoped the old man would come over to his cause.

He couldn't help but to allow a sound of exasperation to escape his lips as he flicked the back of his hand across his thigh. Souji had liked him. Ujio had to keep his distance, though their daughters often saw each other. They wouldn't anymore. She would understand.

_I could not have let him live,_ he told himself. _Had I allowed it, he would have interfered... perhaps stopping me altogether._

The old _shōgun_ might have been soft, but he had become the _shōgun_ through sheer cunning and prowess of military leadership, having fought many battles. He would have been unable to go through with any of this had they been more closely acquainted.

And even still, he hated what he had just done.

It was necessary.

## The Failed Mage

The failed mage walked straight through the front doors. He would have liked to have bought some new clothes first so the guards wouldn't recognize him, but he had no coin, and he was still wearing his trousers and green tunic. They weren't rags, but they hadn't even been washed.

The guards at the door stopped him, asked him why he had been watching the front entrance earlier. Lawrence's story was that he was looking for a guild to join. They laughed in his face and told him The Sable Adventurer didn't take vagrants.

"I'm certain that you don't," Lawrence said, but do you take mages? He called forth enough of his energies to ignite the runes running across his forearms. They had visibly flinched and told him he could enter. So he did.

He surveyed the common room. It was nice enough, though a few steps from high class. There were adventurers everywhere, some talking or playing games, mostly dice. Some sat at tables, and all were served by scantily clad women of every race the mage had seen in town; humans, some local, some not, oni and cat eye women.

One approached him, a human-skinned oni woman with long horns. She looked him up and down. "I don't recognize you. Been away for a while?"

"No," Lawrence said. "I'm looking for work."

She snickered. "Well, the guards must have seen something in you to let a fellow looking like this past the front doors."

"Indeed."

"Can I get you anything?" She asked the words seductively, placed a hand on her hip as she raised a platter of drinks in crystal glasses.

"You have any water?"

She laughed loudly, tilting her head back and showing the top row of her teeth. Unlike the cat eye, they were very human-like teeth. Lawrence took the opportunity to quickly glance at her womanly charms, though he doubted she'd mind had she saw him do it.

After composing herself she said, "Hmmm, you're funny."

He smiled.

When it was evident he had no more to say, she said, "Come find me after you've had a bath," and walked off toward the bar.

_Well,_ he thought, _nothing more to do than to make a show of having a purpose._

He went over to the front desk. Apparently this was where they handed out assignments. Behind the cat eye at the front desk was a large board covered with missions that had been completed.

The failed mage knew how it all worked. He'd been in a few different guilds, but eventually struck out purely on his own after learning a thing or two about magic, though failing the vast majority of his studies, enough to get kicked out of the academy for being "Common trash not capable of learning proper magic!"

He approached the desk where the cat eye was surveying a large tome. Probably tasks and missions yet to be assigned to anyone. He slammed both fists down, not hard, but enough to get the "man's" attention.

"What can a do for you, sir?" Like most cat eye, he spoke with a rolling purr on his Rs, and Lawrence didn't even know how to describe what they did with their Ms. Or maybe he did...

Meow.

He put on a serious face to keep from laughing. " _Ahem!_ I'm looking for work."

They cat eye stared at him. This one had grey eyes and white fur. As if bored, he reached under his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment and slid it across the countertop, his eyes quickly going back to his task as he muttered something about writing a letter of introduction before they would consider him for their guild.

Lawrence slapped an open hand over the paper and it immediately burnt into ash. "There's my introduction," he said. "Do you want me in your guild or not?"

The cat eye narrowed his eyes, but he was far too professional to display an overt level of surprise. "Yes," he said forthrightly. He pulled out another tome and opened it up to a new blank page. On the other side were the names of new members put into the books. "Do you want the particulars before signing?"

"No."

With a skeptical eyebrow, the cat eye said, "Write your name here." He turned the book and slid it toward Lawrence along with an ink pot and quill.

Lawrence signed his name. Or at least, an approximation of his name that read _Ecnerwal Kciwzac._

The cat eye took the book back, turned it over and looked at the name. He blinked a few times and then looked up at the failed mage suspiciously. "You want to play games, is that it?"

"I don't understand," Lawrence said dumbly.

The cat hissed at him. "I've traveled all over this continent, mage, and to a few others as well, and I've never seen a furless of your color with a name so preposterous. Even the spelling gives you away. _This isn't your real name!_ "

"You're right," Lawrence said, "it's my name spelled backwards," and with that admission he punched the cat eye square between the eyes.

The cat yowled, clawed at the air a few times as he fell back onto a small table with stacks of paper, making a mess everywhere.

The failed mage wasted no time. He pulled the surrounding energies from every candle and pipe in the common room and released it back out in a flurry of fireballs at the curtains and everything else flammable.

A commotion broke out, men and woman shouted and ran about, their silhouettes limned in the red-orange glow of multiple small fires already spreading about.

Lawrence dashed up the stairs, the cat eye behind the desk still yowling and snarling. " _Get that man!_ " he yelped. " _One-hundred Imperial Marks to whoever brings me his hide!_ "

He made it to the top of the stairs. _A hundred?_ he thought. _That's a lot of coin!_ He looked about, wondering where Yoko Nakamura could be and realized she might not even be in their main headquarters. If they had stashed her somewhere else, he wouldn't go looking for her. He wasn't getting paid by the Nakamuras either way and he wasn't prepared to sack every one of The Sable Adventurer's outposts in this empire to find her.

_She's_ _here,_ he told himself as he ran down the corridors. _A more stealthy approach probably would have been better instead of a three man raid,_ but he didn't have the patience for that right now.

A man rushed to the top of the stairs in pursuit. Lawrence back stepped to avoid his blade before kicking the man in the chest and sending him back down the stairs atop his comrades. His weight sent them bowling in a heap.

Where would they keep prisoners?

He ran to the end of the corridor and kicked the door in. Another large room, much quieter with lots of books. A nice desk at the back in front of the windows. He went behind the desk and rifled through everything, tossing things about. He couldn't care less.

Peeking through the curtained window, he saw men out in the courtyard waiting for orders. He picked up the large ornate chair made of wood. It was way too heavy for him. He barely managed to throw it through the window. It shattered and the chair crashed onto the cobblestones, sending the four adventurers there into a fright.

"There he is!"

An arrow flitted through the window, but Lawrence was well safe from its trajectory. Someone was rushing down the hall to the room. He went to the bookcase, picked up a solid book there and tossed it at the man coming into the room. The corner took him in the face, stunning him long enough for the failed mage to kick his foot out from under him. The adventurer fell, his sword arm slamming onto the wooden planks. Lawrence stepped onto his wrist and the Sable Adventurer cried out, releasing his blade.

Not a bad weapon—a one-handed short sword of well-crafted steal. Lawrence kicked the man in the face before stepping over him. Two more men were out in the hall about to rush the room, but the failed mage surprised them.

He closed the distance, slashing with his newly acquired sword with precise, deadly movements. He was more a swordsman than he was a mage.

The other men were not untrained louts however, and they parried his advances.

"We're going to gut you," the adventurer on the left said.

"Not if I fry you first," Lawrence replied, and shot a fireball at their feet. They jumped back, narrowly avoiding the blaze that caught the floor on fire.

That would slow them down momentarily, so Lawrence turned and went down the hallway to the left, kicking in doors and giving the rooms cursory glances, not even bothering to walk in. If she was in one of the rooms, something would be amiss. Maybe there would be guards in the chamber, or she would scream for help, thinking correctly that someone had come to rescue her. Maybe.

After knocking in the doors of five rooms, startling the occupants of two, the failed mage began to doubt she was up here. _Where is she?_

Shouting accompanied the heavy footfalls of a large group of men nearing the room. Lawrence had to act fast. He could take two or three men. Maybe even four or five, if he tossed his dice right, but there were too many.

He decided to slip out the window. This room was empty, so he moved behind the curtains without pulling them back. This would conceal his exit. He shut the window behind him and hopped across the wooden beams jutting forth. He was still on the second story, so he grabbed onto one of the supports with his hands and dropped down to the first floor beams that were at roof height, which was about sixteen feet. Fortunately some crates stacked below him assisted in the Lawrence's descent to the street.

He must have had twenty or thirty men searching for him on the upper floors as he made his way through the alley. He could hear them in the rooms above, shouting back and forth as they searched. He made sure to keep close to the base of the wall so they wouldn't see him out in the street.

His heart was beating fast and he was now beginning to feel exhausted. It suddenly occurred to him that it might have been much more efficient to have simply captured the cat eye he'd punched between the eyes so they could make him tell them where Yoko was being held.

Shrugging, he took a turn and was back where he'd left Hitomo and Tomiichi, but they were inside now because they were nowhere in sight. He rushed through the back entrance and into the kitchens. The cooks were all gone, evidentially too frightened to stay behind after the two men went in, probably with their _katana_ s drawn. When he got out of the kitchen, he found a body, a dead man with his belly slashed open.

It wouldn't be long before reinforcements from the top floors arrived. It would take however long it took to search the top floors. Luckily there were a lot of rooms up there.

Back in the burning common room Lawrence found the cat eye and three more of his constituents dead, bloodied and curled up on the floor. One of them wasn't dead, however. He moaned in pain, but Lawrence ignored him as he searched for the two Nakamuras. He followed the bodies into another room where he found a flight of stone steps leading into the basement.

If the two men were wrong about her being in the basement, this would have all been for nothing. Before he even reached the bottom he heard Hitomo shouting. " _Iko! Iko!_ "

The old samurai came rushing toward the failed mage, his face covered. For a moment he thought the man would try to cut him down, his _katana_ held high, ready for a killing strike.

"You found her."

Tomiichi, panting, came up behind his father with Yoko in his arms. His face was also covered, though barely. The action they had sustained partly revealed his identity. Yoko had evidentially been beaten. But not too badly, otherwise she wouldn't be sellable for a while, if ever.

"Make sure we get out," Tomiichi said, nodding up the steps.

The failed mage turned and ran back up into the common room to find a group of men surveying the situation. They all had their swords drawn and Lawrence didn't think he could issue another fireball. He didn't have the energy for that.

Instead he surprised them, hacking into one man atop the shoulder with an expert slash that cut through his leather armor and wounded him badly. He cried out as blood spattered.

They tried to surround the failed mage, but he turned and backtracked, made his way to the administrator's desk and jumped atop it. He kicked books at his pursuers as they attempted to surround him.

The room was filling with smoke. Lawrence coughed.

If only this sword had been a little longer, he would have cut a throat or two from his elevated position.

As he parried blows with the four men at the desk, none of them too eager to become another body on the corpse-strew rugs, the archer from before rushed through the front entrance.

It was a desperate move, but the mage had no choice, he jumped forward, his boots landing atop one of the men's shoulders.

The man collapsed and Lawrence landed on the floor, his sword knocking dully out of his hand against the red rug on the floor. He rolled as blades came in for the kill.

Kicking and scrambling for his life, the failed mage pulled for whatever fire energy he could from his surroundings. It wasn't much but sparks shot out of his hand as he scrambled back, giving his pursuers pause. They hesitated, giving him enough time to get to his feet and in a mad dash, jump through the window. The _washi_ paper did little to stop him going through.

He rolled when he hit the street, his head knocking none too gently against the cobbles. He nearly fell as he scrabbled his way to his feet. Lawrence made to catch up with the other two men.

"There he is!" a Sable Adventurer shouted from atop the second floor through the window. "After him! He's getting away!"

Lawrence dashed through the streets, jumped over food carts and spilling exotic fruits and wares. He ran into a shop and out the back. He could hear his pursuers behind him and he didn't stop to look back. What would be the point? They either caught up with you and killed you, or they didn't. There wasn't any point looking.

He ran into the street, jumped out of the way of an oncoming horse-drawn wagon and fell atop a barrel, coins and dice flying everywhere as the group of gamblers shouted in surprise and anger.

A sword came at him, the dicers screaming now. The blade flicked past his face and chinked against the cobblestones.

The failed mage elbowed the man, but it barely stunned him, so he kicked him in the knee. His would-be killer cried out, grabbing at the wound as Lawrence whirled back to his feet, his breath coming in gasps. His throat was burning. His vision was throbbing, the edges going black. He stumbled along the road as the man he wounded shouted to the others, revealing his location.

Gritting his teeth, he pressed on, three more men entering the street behind him. He turned, saw them and continued running until he came along a bridge crossing the river.

He was too tired to keep running, so he hurled himself over the side. The current wasn't strong, but not slow either. It would impede the men coming after him at least, because only two of them jumped in after him, their splashes not far behind as the third man kept to the street, following the current of the river, and him.

He wasn't going to make it. No way to cast fireballs. He was too tired for that, besides, he was in the river. He kicked his legs, trying to gain speed on his pursuers.

He felt something tug at his boot heal.

"Come here, you whoreson!"

He kicked harder, trying to get away from the man grabbing at his heals, but the man caught him.

He was still gasping for breath, unable to escape.

The Sable Adventurer got a handhold, but Lawrence kicked with his other foot, his heal connecting with the oni's forehead. The kick didn't seem to do much, because his horns were in the way, preventing him from taking proper damage. But his head jerked about, so he kept kicking, his other pursuer right behind the oni, a man with a bald head. He wasn't a good swimmer, so he was gaining on them slowly.

The oni made purchase on his other foot, pulled the failed mage toward him.

_This is it,_ he thought. _This is where I die!_

He kicked, jerked, writhed, but the man pulled him inexorably closer until he had Lawrence in a vice mid torso. They both sunk, unable to properly swim.

Barely making the surface, the oni snarled, smashing his horned head into Lawrence chest. But they were sinking, the oni unable to get air, he released Lawrence. He kicked away, but now the other man was on him, grabbing at his forearm. He pulled Lawrence toward him, the oni now grabbing at his kicking legs for the second time, when suddenly a man from the riverbank screamed and fell into the water.

" _Stop!_ "

It was Tomiichi, barking orders, but the men didn't even seem to notice, until an arrow flitted past their heads and into the water.

The Commander was loosing arrows at them? Was he going to kill Lawrence while trying to save him?

The oni released him a moment later, evidentially aware that he and his Sable Adventurer companion were the targets. He kicked off and called out to the other man.

"Leave off, Ked!"

"I've got him!"

Lawrence was abruptly released and he kicked away, realizing the big bald man was floating face down, an arrow in his neck.

Tomiichi didn't let anymore arrows fly at the oni as he made for the bank on the other side of the river.

Lawrence gasped, his heart hammering. He couldn't swim anymore and simply rolled onto his back, sucking air as he floated.

He stayed like that for a time, until Tomiichi called to him. "What are you doing?!"

Finally, he kicked toward the bank and Tomiichi Nakamura grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him out of the river. He was still gasping, his throat completely parched. Every muscle in his body felt numb, and now his head was beginning to hammer. "My vision... is still pulsing."

"Pulsing?"

"Like... _gahh!_ ...a maggot."

"We need to get back."

"I know," Lawrence panted. "But... what are you... going... to do about The Sable Adventurers? Aren't they going... to come after you?"

"Maybe," Tomiichi said. "But we're ready for them."

"Ready for them?"

"I'll explain when we get back, Mage."

Lawrence nodded, rolled to his side and tried to get up. He couldn't, so the other man hauled him to his feet. He was able to walk.

## The Dancer

Sakura shut the bedroom door where Yoko now slept. She had drifted off nearly as soon as her head hit her pillow. The young dancer was overjoyed when they had returned, though most of her happiness was drowned out in a flood of loathing. She wanted to throttle ever single member of The Sable Adventurers.

She could almost scream. Sakura would have, had it not been for her sister's sake.

She was safe. _But will she be all right?_ I'm _hardly all right. How can she be? Of course she's not all right._ Had they been too late, she might have been shipped off and sold as a slave in some foreign land.

It was all she could do to keep from tearing up. She drew up her kimono as she walked across the hall and down the stairs. Her _tabi_ slippers made soft noises against the finely polished hardwoods as she went. Yoko would be fine. She hadn't been hurt. Not seriously.

And besides, mother is with her now.

Her thoughts raced in her mind, but she pushed them back. She arrived in the dining room where the mage and his young companion sat. The boy looked healthy, but the mage was clearly not feeling well after his ordeal saving Yoko.

"...we could not have done it without you," her father was saying.

The mage nodded dully, his eyes almost unfocused.

"You look unwell," her brother said, glancing toward Sakura as she entered the room. She knelt down at the table and reached for the hot teapot. She poured every cup she could reach and then her own, but she didn't drink.

"Shall I look at you?" she suggested.

"No," the man said. "I'm well, I'm simply drained from the fighting." He looked back to her father. "Is your family going to be safe now? What's to stop The Sable Adventurers from coming after you? Surely they know storming their headquarters was your doing."

"They know," Tomiichi said.

"This city's corruption runs deep," Hitomo said, "and the _shōgun_ is a tired old man who either doesn't care or doesn't know the things which are going on under his nose. The _daimyō_ s are corrupt, taking bribes from whomever gives them."

"Mostly criminal organizations," Tomiichi added.

"Like The Sable Adventurer's guild!" the mage's young companion said.

They all nodded. "What's stopping them from marching back over here and taking her back, taking all of you, or worse?"

"They could," Hitomo said. "But now it might be more trouble than it's worth, even if we did just send a message, an intentional message, that The Sable Adventurers can be challenged." He sighed. "We're lucky they're one of the smaller guilds. They don't have the resources to wage back-alley wars."

"And besides," Tomiichi said, "I have friends. Not all the Guard is corrupt."

"The Guard has formed a secret protection circle," the old man said. He rubbed his chin, thoughtful. "Nothing official, just... preventative in most cases."

Sakura finally spoke up. "They might be organized," she said, "but the gangs in our cities work in such ways as to stay out of the public eye, making their dealings look like sporadic crimes."

"Mmm," Hitomo acknowledged with a nod. "That is their operating method."

Tomiichi set his tea cup back down on the table after taking a sip. "We can protect ourselves against it, so long as we know we're the targets of such gangs."

The mage nodded. He looked like he was about to fall over. "Why not have your Guard help instead of me?"

"Hmm," Hitomo noised, touching his chin. "As you said, they probably know who attacked their guild, but since you're a foreigner, there's still a chance they will not."

"So you do fear reprisals."

The mage looked like he was having trouble staying away. Sakura glanced toward her brother and father. Neither of them said anything, so neither did she—but he had a good point. "Would you like to sleep here tonight?" Sakura suggested. "You're exhausted."

Just then there was a knock at the door. Hitomo and Tomiichi jumped, moved to the other side of the house and peaked outside. It was their reaction that made her feel more insecure, that what they said about being safe—protected by the circle—might not be as certain as they had made it sound.

"Is it Hisato?" Tomii asked.

"No," her father said, and simply jerked his head at Sakura. "It's for you."

_Oh, that's right,_ she thought. _I've completely forgotten!_ And yet, she didn't care at all. The only thing she did care about was that she had her sister back and that she was safe.

She opened the door. It was Kaiya. Her eyes moved up and down Sakura and she gaped. "Whaaaat? What are you doing? What _have_ you been doing?!"

"I'm—I was..." She glanced back.

"You were supposed to be at the palace ages ago! Umo has been wondering where you are for hours, you little fool! He's nearly in a rage as it is."

"I'm on my way now," Sakura said.

"Yes you are!" Kaiya screeched. "Get your things. We're leaving!"

"You're worse than my mother."

"Your mother isn't dancing for the royal family at the palace tonight!"

Sakura turned toward her father and brother. Being the relatives of one of the main performers, they were expected to be there. At least when the Emperor himself would be watching.

"I'll stay behind," Tomiichi said.

They all knew what he meant. No one said anything else about it as Hitomo told her he and her mother would meet her at the palace. It seemed her parents had also forgotten during this day's ordeal.

"I want to come," the mage's companion said. There was a bright, interest on his face. Despite his experience—his recent experience as well—he was still little more than a child.

Sakura looked at him. And the man she had saved said, "Out of the question."

"You're not my master anymore."

"I'll be your executioner if you don't shut your mouth."

"There's no need for that," Sakura said. "He can come." She turned to the young boy. "This will be my thanks to you. For..." Kaiya was there. "For everything."

Ishi smiled.

"What is this?" Kaiya said, almost sneering at the boy. "Who is this filthy boy?"

"It's no concern," Sakura said pointedly. "Take care of him. See that he gets something to wear."

"I should see that _you_ get something to wear."

Sakura said nothing, only stared at the other woman. She could always out last her in this game, and finally she gave up, sighed so loudly she was nearly moaning. "Very well, Sakura." Then to the boy she barked, "You! Whatever your name is. In the coach. Now." She jabbed a thumb, indicating the carriage.

"My name is Ishi!"

"Now!" the dancer barked, sweeping her arm along. Her tone brooked no argument, but she was always easy to misbehave around.

He obeyed quickly and ran to the coach, inspecting the vehicle when he came to it, the coachman eyeing him askance. The driver was a local man, but well trained in the western delight that had been brought to Yukai City.

## The Dancer

Sakura went back into the house to tell everyone she was leaving.

"And don't worry," Tomii said. "I'll look out for her. And we have three men from the circle here to keep a watch on things as well."

Sakura nodded. She embraced her brother and then glanced toward the mage. He was evidentially on his way out. She had something for him. "Wait," she said, catching up to him on the road outside. "You're not going to stay?"

The dancer couldn't help but want him to. She didn't know him, but she was thankful to him for helping her brother and father save Yoko. He had even almost died again.

"No," he said. "I'll probably go find a guild that will want to have me. I'll be fine."

"I see," she said. "Well then, please take this." She proffered the little coin purse. "It's not much, but if you fail to find a guild, it will buy you a good bed and meal."

The man hesitated. "You've already saved my life. I'm not certain I can take your money as well."

"It's all right," she said, nudging the coin purse. "My family has no lack of coin to spare. As you've seen."

He nodded and reached out for the purse. He didn't open it, simply put it in his tunic. "Thank you."

"Perhaps we should hire you on as a guard for a time," she suggested. It was a joke, but she found herself actually wanting that. He was scruffy and needed to bathe, which was certainly repulsive, but even though he was a mercenary, she could sense something in him.

Honor...

He sniffed with amusement. "I think you have someone waiting for you."

She turned, annoyed at the distraction to see Kaiya standing next to the coach, her hands outspread with an exasperated look on her face.

"Coming." She turned to the mage once more. "With everything that has happened, I still don't know your name. What is it?"

He looked at her for a moment, then tiredly, he said, "My name is Lawrence... Cazwick."

"Well, Ro-ren-su," she said, his name thickly accented. "I hope I see you again. Goodbye."

He nodded politely. "Goodbye, Nakamura-san."

At his use of the formal honorific, she smiled, then went back to the coach where Kaiya was waiting, annoying as ever, though Sakura deserved the negative attention she thought as she was herded into the coach.

"Quickly."

She was still tired after expending so much energy to heal Lawrence. Dancing would be difficult tonight.

She found herself contemplating quietly as the others chitchatted about the coming performance.

Lawrence Cazwick...

"Sakura, are you even listening to me? And what are you smiling about?"

"Sorry, nothing. You were saying?"

## The Witch

She was overseeing her precious cargo—large hampers made of wicker. It wasn't unheard of that a tooth could get through the baskets, penetrating the hands of laborers. And of course, the poison was deadly. Normally the witch wouldn't mind. Her pets needed the feeding, but laborers willing to handle such dangerous creatures were hard to come by, and this time they happened to be the incognito samurai of the First Spear. Usually she just used slaves.

The First Spear... Hukama, the legendary general of Kachiiwara.

Ladya didn't care for whatever his aims here were, though she admitted to herself a certain excitement at the prospects of what might happen. Right now she needed coin and she was offering a service for that payment. Nothing more.

_But the chaos of war will surely allow me to work unmolested_.

She had traveled with the foreign commander's soldiers, posing as his paramour, he as a rich summerer coming into the city. His soldiers wore the livery of house servants. It was a good ruse, but Ladya didn't much like her part. He was shorter than she was. She stood a full head taller than he.

And he's ancient.

Normally she didn't care what others thought of her. In fact, she preferred to stay out of the public eye completely. But after her castle had been raided, she had no choice but to gather coin and rebuild. _The agents of The Purging Flame are relentless!_

She found herself scowling in silence, arms crossed as the liveried soldiers unloaded the baskets from the back of the wagon. She abruptly straightened her features. She had to stop doing that, otherwise she would become a wrinkled old hag.

_Disgusting._ Ladya would be beautiful forever!

One of the "servants" fumbled with his basket, the corner dropping from one hand and hitting the cobbled ground. The enclosure abruptly shook, though no other sounds issued from it.

The witch involuntarily clenched her fingers as if about to claw a man's face off. " _Careful, you mongrels!_ They're not war dogs!"

Several of the men gave pause and looked at her, then went back to working. Samurai didn't much like epithets hurled at them, but how else would Ladya impress upon them the severity of their stupidity?

The First Spear raised an eyebrow at her outburst. "Be careful," he said to his soldiers, not rumpling his demeanor.

Perhaps Ladya overreacted. But her beasts were delicate. "They're meant to hide in the shadows, strike unawares and by doing so, cause rumor and fear."

As she said the words she couldn't help but feel arousal. There was much work to do tonight. She would satisfy her needs after engorging her sadism later. Her horrors were to be unleashed very soon. And when the eggs hatched, then the people of this city would know the fears of the night!

"We'll have to destroy them once we've taken the city," the First Spear said coolly.

Ladya grit her teeth. She hated when her spiders were killed. Breeding them was not easy. Acquiring warm bodies to feed them was expensive. They needed to have a taste for human blood.

The crates stuffed with straw and egg sacks were now being unloaded. She laughed, unable to stifle her excitement.

That laugh had been the outburst of a woman on the verge of horrendous deeds of terror. Her excitement quickly turned to anger as she silently bemoaned the loss of her keep to those filthy warriors of steel and fire. Spiders hated fire.

Bayule curse the souls of those magic haters.

If Hukama wanted her spiders destroyed, that would be acceptable, so long as she could use them for her purpose.

This country was overflowing with individuals with magical aura. Legends as they were oftentimes called. She could sense them, and even now her apprentice Kat was about the city searching them out. Yukai was rife for her needs.

## The Princess Heir

The princess of the Mikuma Empire stood still as her servants bathed her. She could do nothing but think, as she often did. Had she been a less thoughtful woman, she might have found the interminable need for silence during royal functionaries utterly oppressive.

Noriko Kurosawa did not. She preferred to be with her own thoughts a lot of the time. Sometimes she forgot she was being pampered.

Except when waxed.

A new thing that quickly came into fashion when the Veravids were allowed access into the empire. She hated this thing.

_It hurts too much,_ she mused. _How anyone thought to experiment to the point of discovering such a method is a curiosity._ _Perhaps a naked man accidentally spilled wax on his manhood one night while thinking to read to himself after getting out of the bath?_

Oh dear!

She giggled, her lady's maid reacting ever so slightly to the outburst. Noriko recomposed herself. When the other two maids left her roooms, one of them, a cat eye, she giggled quite abruptly.

"Tell me what's making you laugh, Princess?"

"Mika," Noriko said, "I've just had the funniest thought.

"What is it?"

The two often talked and laughed together, making jokes about the rigidness of custom or the countenances of visiting nobles. She whispered her thought to the young maid and they giggled together like silly girls. Like before. Noriko always enjoyed that.

The two girls had been friends while the princess was growing up, but then Mika's father had gotten work in a neighboring city, his wife and Mika had left the palace with him of course.

But Mika had returned to Yukai City and to the palace. She had been overjoyed upon seeing the other woman for the first time in half a decade.

Their laughter stifled when one of the other maids returned. These were much older and quite prudish. She was sure one of them had reported to her father about what she had said concerning her husband to be.

I've never even met the man and I'm supposed to marry him?

It wasn't unexpected. She wasn't terribly afraid or angry, but certainly apprehensive of the prospect.

"What's wrong?" Mika asked the question in a mere breath of words. Noriko said nothing. They both knew what she was thinking about.

Not unexpectedly, Mika leaned over her bathwater and hugged the princess over the neck. The action still took aback. "I'll be fine."

"I know."

Just then one of the other maids entered. It was the most prudish one of all, the old cat eye. Her whiskers were greying and her eyes showed their age. It was hard to tell under the fur. They weren't "old" per say, but more knowing.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "You're supposed to be helping the princess get ready for the night's entertainment. Leave at once!"

Mika, contrite and obeisant to the older maid who ranked far above her, complied. With one last sympathetic look in her friend's direction, she left the chamber, holding her wet arms close to her body.

"I don't like it when you yell at her, Dija."

The cat eye was quite prudish indeed, but not the maid she suspected of relaying the things she said to her father. Though she had a bossy demeanor and a tongue like a whip, she was very loyal.

"Yes, Princess," Dija said. "But if you are not prepared for tonight, it will be her hide. I'm simply saving her the disgrace of a quick sacking."

She always had a logical reason that made sense, but sometimes Noriko suspected the cat eye might not like Mika.

_But why?_ she wondered. She still hadn't found out.

She sighed in resignation. Dija knew how to take advantage of the princess, short of getting in a verbal brawl with her, she was sometimes quite forward, though never when her brother the prince was near, and not when her father was either—though she was certainly still strict in the presence of the emperor.

_I may be the princess, but Dija is my social superior, it seems. At least in private._

"You're pouting," Dija said pointedly. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing..."

"If you're worried about your marriage to Prince Shinju, don't be. Your father knows best."

"For the empire," Noriko muttered.

"What's that, Princess?"

"I said our marriage would strengthen the empire." She didn't want to get into another quarrel with the old cat. A quarrel Dija would say was a "frank conversation to impart wisdom and learning to a very young princess."

Noriko brought her hands up out of the water and looked at them. "I'm pruning now."

Dija didn't say a word, only moved over to a stack of towels and aided the princess into one as she got out of the bath. The maid then bent to dry her calves and then her head, before helping her into a robe and escorting her to her makeup chair.

Mika came back with the other maid. The spy. Noriko hated that one. She made sure not to say a word around the woman, a human perhaps as old as Dija.

The old bag...

She never thought like that, but she'd heard one of the younger kitchen girls use those words to describe someone and she couldn't help but laugh.

Dija looked at her with surprise and indignation as if she could read the princess' thoughts! At least, Noriko felt that way. _How does she do it? Some sort of cat sense? No, that's silly,_ though she had heard the cat eye possessed strange magicks of illusion and a feral sense of sight and smell.

They dressed her, put white powder on her face. Mika smiled very imperceptibly as she made the princess' lips red with the cherry stick, Dija doing up her hair into an intricate coif held together with a long stick that tapered on one end.

Mika stepped back. "You're ready, Princess."

"Not yet," Dija said, stepping around to Noriko's front. She opened the lid of a large ornate wooden box on the mirrored dressing table. It was a large necklace of heavy gold with a single large ruby centered inside the pendent at the bottom.

Dija leaned over Noriko and placed the necklace on her, stepped back. The cat clasped her fur-covered hands together with a look that Noriko knew was pride.

"Now she's ready," Dija said, her eyes finding Mika who had come back to assist. "Call the procession, Mika!"

Mika nodded and scurried off. Noriko was ready for the night's ceremony—the official betrothal of Princess Noriko Kurosawa of Mikuma and Prince Shusuke Shinju of Arekaiwa. A night of entertainment would follow. The whole city was to be in celebration!

_They say he's handsome,_ she thought, rubbing her sweating fingers against her palms. _But will he be? Really? He could have warts, or worse, he could look like a toad. No warts are worse._

"Stop making faces!" the cat commanded.

She nearly jumped. "Sorry."

"A princess does not apologize to her maids," Dija corrected.

"You're right, Dija," Noriko said, "I'm sorry—I mean, yes—yes, you're right."

Dija sighed.

This union would make the empire stronger, her father had said. She wanted to do it. For her country. For him.

Noriko's heart beat fast with apprehension, and a little bit with anticipation.

## The Failed Mage

He had no real reason to notice it before, but the failed mage now held the opinion that this city was ripe for conflict. He could see the signs everywhere. The oni practically ran him out of their quarter of the city, and the cat eyes he passed on the street regarded him with a wariness he wasn't used to seeing in every day city life. The Young humans from Alveravid walked in groups, taunted others not of their clan.

The local people of the city also seemed to regard every other group with some form of hostility. Of course, what Lawrence saw were hints, isolated incidents, and intuitions based on his own experience having only been in the city for less than a day. He could be wrong, but he was a mercenary after all. Places of conflict were his business.

He had already aided the Nakamura family who had suffered from excessive crime in Yukai City. Raiding their gild, he had seen none of the Sable Adventurers who were original inhabitants of Mikuma.

Such crime on the local populace had to be mounting toward an ever growing increase in hostility toward foreigners.

The perfect environment to make some coin.

It was a rather heartless thought, but not untrue. What would that make Lawrence? A backside blood-sucking mongrel?

Yes.

The failed mage came down a thoroughfare of steps opening up to overlook the city harbor. It was packed with ships, some for fishing, others for war. There were even some junks from farther east—probably traders, with their red-ribbed sails and their odd looking hulls.

As he made his way onto the docks, he saw a food seller. He inspected the different meals, some of which he wouldn't touch with a sword, others looked edible, and a few looked quite delicious. He pulled out a copper from the pouch Sakura had given him and bought a bowl of _rāmen_. He slurped up the noodles and then drank the broth. It was quite good and it gave him energy as he walked about the docks.

Lawrence had already visited three guilds in the city as he looked for work. Being very exhausted from the early fight at the Sable Adventurers guild, he couldn't perform any of his fire magic to prove he was a mage. Not right now.

They had offered him a position as a guard for two silvers a day at the Rising Snakes, an Alveravid guild. He turned them down of course and pressed on, looking for other guilds and asking directions as he went. But he stopped asking for work soon after. For now he would simply scout the guilds out and visit later, when he was refreshed.

His thoughts went to his retainer.

_Ishi, you little fool._

Having lived and worked in Omosaku for nearly ten years, Lawrence had no trouble speaking the local language of these lands in Mikuma. All these small countries and various empires spoke a common language, one where the speakers were unable to pronounce his name properly—always as, " _Ro-ren-su Kazu-wikku._ "

_Annoying,_ he thought, having never really gotten used to that.

In Omosaku he had amassed a small fortune working for the ruler there, fighting his battles, mostly defensive, some offensive in the never-ending struggle of borders in these parts. But finally the Xai Qi Empire had begun to make inroads on the nation.

The failed mage should have taken his fortune and left, but the coin was very lucrative. Not that that mattered now. Not after losing everything. Now he was practically a vagrant with not but a few silvers to his name.

But he couldn't have just left. Not with her...

Sakura had said the coin purse would furnish him an inn and a meal, but upon looking into the pouch he discovered enough silvers to last him at least two weeks. He should have never taken it. Instead of scouting for yet more guilds, since right now the only thing he could produce in the way of magic was a few sparks, he decided to find a good inn where he could eat another hot meal, bathe and sleep.

First he stopped off at a clothing shop after heading out of the harbor and back up another thoroughfare of steps. In the end, he chose a local style, a dark blue robe trimmed and sashed in black. He forewent the white, split-toe _tabi_ and walked with his feet bare in a new pair of _waraji,_ which were little more than thin sandals woven from rice fibers. They were good and flat and would allow him to run fast since they wrapped about his heels and ankles.

The failed mage stroked his chin, surveying the signs. Some of the inns were very clearly exclusionary to outsiders, such as the cat eye inn on the upper left, the sign reading Nightstalkers and a warning that no humans, oni, or any other race, was permitted within the walls.

Lawrence wasn't surprised. It seemed each group had its reasons for mistrusting the others, and if a person did trust the others, they were probably looked upon with suspicion and hostility by their own. Something few would want to do.

There was an Alveravid inn. He could probably find work with their lot here in the city, but they seemed to always want people killed. The word "assassin" had originated from their linguistic dialect a thousand years prior, and a word almost universally replacing all others for that act of treachery. He decided not to go into that inn.

Instead, he went into the local inn called The Imperial Katana, passing four men smoking pipes in their kimonos. One of them, an older man with a bald head, a scar across one eyebrow and a white mustache that hung a hand span below his chin, glared at him. He gave the men an acknowledging nod as they watch him enter. The sliding door was open.

The inn was well lit with a lot of little sliding doors with _washi_ paper inlays that served for windows in this country. The failed mage liked the architectural style in these parts, among other things.

He looked around. It was pretty quiet. Lots of old folks, some laborers drinking at the bar on the other end of the common room. There was a woman with two children at the table near the main counter.

"Hey!" a voice called. "We no want no trouble here. Keep to yourself!"

He turned, raised an eyebrow at the skinny old man. He'd have laughed, but the man had a _katana_ tucked into his sash. An old samurai, perhaps.

"Hey!"

It was the woman behind the desk. She was young. Very young. Maybe fifteen or sixteen. "Don't scare the guests."

"Look at him," the old Samurai said, nodding at Lawrence. "I can smell trouble on him. He reeks of the root!"

Lawrence frowned. "The root?"

"Never mind," the girl said. "Bui, off with you."

"I'm not going to cause any trouble, old man. I just want a room and a place to wash."

The old samurai narrowed his eyes, nodding as if to say "We'll see," before he stepped out, his shoulders held square. He probably shouldn't be dismissed. The old man might be a bit long in the tooth, but he could probably still use that sword.

Lawrence went to the front desk where the young woman was. She pushed her sheaf of rice paper ledgers to the side. She was too young to own the place. Probably the daughter. So it was a nice little family run place. He didn't mind.

"I need a room," he said. "Do you have anything nice?"

The young woman nodded. "We have nice rooms on the top floor, sir." She glanced at his kimono. She must have thought she was being careful, but Lawrence noticed. He wondered what she thought of him wearing local clothing.

"How much is it?

"Only ten silver reeds a night."

Silver reeds? He looked at the coins in his pouch. On their fronts they were minted with an official-looking building. Probably the palace, and on the back, sure enough there were three reeds sticking out of a rippling pond. He searched inside the pouch. He probably had thirty or forty coins. Ha hadn't counted properly.

This price is outrageous.

But he didn't argue. The fact that she called them silver reeds and not Imperial Reeds said something about how this establishment felt concerning its ruler. _And probably foreigners, too._

He nodded and stacked the coins in her small hand. She smiled, put the coins away in a box under the counter and then showed him up to his room. It was even more well-lit than the downstairs common room. And less smoke. The bed was a solid _futon_ atop a short frame of cherry wood. In front of the bed was a small fireplace of stones. Too hot for a fire in the summer, but he might light it for the aesthetic value it gave.

"This is nice," he said, looking about the room.

"Thank you."

"Where do I go to get a bath?"

"We have a _sentō_ in the adjoining building."

That's right. He had seen the smoke stack on the way in. She gave him the key and made to leave him alone, but he turned and asked a question. "I've just arrived, but it seems to me this city is on edge."

She said nothing, though she did nod gravely, her facial expression impressing upon him the severity of her own thoughts on the matter.

He changed the subject when she continued staring at him. "What was that thing about 'the root'?"

She waved it off. "It's nothing. Some superstition about bad luck. It's nothing."

Lawrence nodded. She was placating him, but he could see she believed it too. He didn't care. He was tired and he wanted to lie down for a while.

His thoughts went to the boy for a moment. Better that they parted anyway. Lawrence was no longer in the employ _of Daimyō_ Isekio, so he didn't need a retainer.

He thought of the lowborn soldiers and the samurai who had fought with him. _Isao. Hikaru. Nishi..._ They were probably all dead. If not, Nishi was probably some wild _rōnin_ by now since Isekio lost his head.

And there was Princess Miho... She was to be his wife. An advantageous pairing, and she was a sweet girl, but he had felt nothing more than that. She had probably been forced to marry some lesser Xai Qi noble.

_Never mind,_ he thought. _It's in the past now. It's time to begin anew._

When he fell asleep, he dreamed of raiding the Sable Adventurers again. Except this time he had been the one to go down into the basement. But it wasn't Yoko he saved, but her sister, Sakura. The woman who had saved his life.

## The Spider

_When you drink this, it will change your appearance to that of a red-skinned oni. Then and_ only _then do you make your move, understand?_

That whore of a witch spoke to him like he was dumb or something. The Spider knew how to carry out a killing. He'd done it hundreds of times.

_She's deliberately disrespecting you,_ Nazrednas said, his voice more high pitched and moaning than ever.

_I know that, you idiot!_ the Spider bit back. "I won't let her. I won't! The whore. That _bitch!_ "

_That bitch!_ Nazrednas echoed inside the Spider's mind. He never went away, never stopped his incessant screeching and moaning and whimpering. Sometimes the Spider thought this ghost was the spirit of his first murdered victim.

He had sounded like that...

_Who do you speak of, Spider?_ Nazrednas moaned like a dying old man.

_Silence! We have work to do. We'll figure out what to do with that_ Witch _later._

Yes!

I SAIDS SILENCE, YOU FILTH!

Nazrednas ceased.

"Ah, we go to the Veravid quarter," he whispered to himself. "There will be best. Best, yes!" He cackled and scurried into the crowd, preparing to drink that bedeviled potion the whore witch gave him.

He wanted to complete this task without it, but he saw no other way.

_Wait!_ he thought. _Yes!_

He laughed aloud, drawing the attention of onlookers as he weaved through the crowds, aiming his abnormally long nose like a buzzard that had gotten first sight on a carcass.

## The Dancer

Umo was near to frothing at the mouth when Sakura had arrived backstage of the palace theater.

"Hurry up!"

"We're almost finished," Kaiya said, "you rushing us won't make it go any faster."

Kaiya was applying Sakura's final makeup touches. A bit of purple eye shadow and her red lip gloss. She was already wearing her white kimono. It was embroidered with blue fans and gold ribbons.

Umo was glittering with impatience. Had he been short and fat, it would have been funny, but he was neither. Like a reed, he moved quickly, jerkily.

"If anything goes wrong, Sakura," he said, "I'm taking it out of _your_ hide!"

Sakura didn't say anything. She knew that she was late, had forgotten all about the performance. But Sakura had had more important things to think about, and so she had been late. But being late and in a rush wasn't the end of the world. Proper time management when the schedule wasn't going according to plan was almost a regular occurrence. It was just that... well, they were performing for their esteemed emperor Kurosawa. But the troupe was professional. This was their trade. They would deliver a stunning performance—and on time.

"That's it," Kaiya said. "She's ready." She stepped back and scurried to the dressing table and took up her fans.

_She might be annoying_ Sakura thought, _but she's reliable. And a good friend._

The whole troupe was there, ready to patter out onto the stage in their slippers and kimonos while the curtain was drawn. Right now there was a small pre-performance happening, designed to distract the audience.

The _taiko_ drums were already set up. The performance would open with a thrilling concussion of three drummers that would eventually rise into a crescendo to introduce the performance proper—the dancers Sakura, Kaiya and Yumiko.

_It's time,_ Sakura thought, not feeling any apprehension or giddiness whatsoever. She had done this hundreds of times, often in the presence of powerful individuals such as _daimyō_ s, foreign rulers, and of course, even the Emperor.

" _Go, go go!_ " Umo hissed, herding the performers out onto the stage. " _Ike!_ " The curtain was drawn and the duo of _shamisen_ lute performers and the _shakuhachi_ flute players were nearing the end of their performance.

The drummers took their positions, their sticks raised and ready to beat out a performance that would make anyone want to move about with their rhythm.

The small performance out front ended and there was complete silence from the _Ikaima Dancing Fans_ as the lute and flute performers scurried off the stage, their slippers pattering softly as the audience murmured in quiet conversation.

The emperor would be out in front of course, along with the Shinju family. The rulers had met to celebrate the engagement of Prince Shusuke Shinju and Princess Noriko Kurosawa, an alliance of marriage.

This performance was in honor of their visit, and the engagement of the prince and princess.

Umo peaked in on the curtained stage. "It's time!" he whispered, practically hissing out the words. He did a silent count down and the drummers began, at first slow, the rhythm soon to rise into an exciting opening performance!

## The Spider

He went to the Veravid quarter. It was the perfect place to the start a riot. But he was not very excited about the method by which he was to do it. Simple killing was insipid. It served a purpose, but the Spider preferred to savor the act, to make it last, squeeze out every drop of fear and loathing and terror that he could. It was just too sweet.

_So sweet!_ Nazrednas echoed. _Soooo sweet!_

The Spider didn't suppress the other mind inside his mind. He wouldn't abide being told what to do, but he did prefer the companionship, someone to enjoy the world with.

His intention had been to stalk a child and threaten to murder it to get the parent, preferably the father, to comply with his demands. A Mikuman killing a Veravid child out in the street would cause the whole of the quarter to rise up in arms.

The sweet torture of forcing a man to kill in cold blood, and a child no less or else suffer the death of his own child, would have made the Spider _feel_ something, the only thing they _could_ feel. But it was not to be.

_Not to be,_ Nazrednas moaned.

_No,_ the Spider said inside his mind to the other mind that lay nestled there like a crab spider dug in for the long hunt. _Not to be._

It didn't matter! Tonight Yukai City would be anarchy and the Spider would have as much meat as he wanted. All kinds . Every flavor. Men. Woman. Children. Humans, demi humans.

He sucked hard on his front teeth, loud enough to make a squelching sound. And there was no way the witch could betray him. She had promised the Spider unquenchable desires, and that was what he would have as the chaos raged.

It was his task to create general unrest in the city of Yukai—a distraction, among many distractions while these invaders did their work. It mattered not. Not to the Spider.

When order was returned, he would retreat back into the darkness, not to be seen again for at least several years. If he could capture enough food. He needed extra. To play with.

Thoughts lingering on that bitch. That filthy witch! She had spat on him. Maybe he would kill her. Maybe.

But first, he would do his part. And then he would hunt.

And then maybe...

Maybe she will be my toy!

Sniffling.

Our toy?

_Yes, yes—_ our _toy!_

What do we do, Spider?

Nazrednas couldn't cry. Not really. But the Spider could sense when he cried, like the imaginings of a person crying within his mind.

"We drink this damnable potion that witch gave us and do the deed ourselves!"

Ourselves!

Yes, ourselves!

_You fiend!_ Nazrednas cursed.

Don't start, you whoreson! You're as needful as I am when it comes to the killing. You enjoy it!

I do...

...not.

You lie!

Nazrednas moaned inside his mind. The Spider hated it when he got like this. At times the other mind inside his mind was as thirty as he was, at other times he wanted nothing to do with what was an integral need for life!

"There is no life without death."

No life without death.

"Are you agreeing with me, you idiot?"

_Nooo,_ Nazrednas moaned.

The Spider growled and hissed. "Shut up! _Shut up!"_

A small group of onlookers were watching him as he hissed and spat in the corner. When he spoke to the other mind inside his mind, he had no need to use his eyes. But now he needed to move.

He screamed, flailing his arms wildly. "Out! Out of my way!"

He ran before any of the frightened mothers or their whaling babes could call for a man to get rid of him. In a one on one fight out in the open street, the Spider was no match for a man, especially one that could fight.

Spiders didn't fight. They waited, they captured their prey. And when they couldn't move, they sunk their teeth into the soft flesh of their victims.

And then we feed.

The mind inside his mind moaned in consternation and self-pity. "We drink the potion."

We become them!

"No!" the Spider spat. "It's an illusion. It's not real. A disguise only."

And then...?

"You know what comes next!"

Whaling inside his head. _What comes next._

The Spider removed the vial from his scrip. It was a murky brown liquid with a strange sheen too it, almost like liquid metal. He was ready.

He scurried along to the busiest part of the quarter where there was a lot of intermingling between the races. There was cat eye here, local Mikumans, and oni, red skinned, green and the others, along with a few other, inconsequential factions. The Veravids were plentiful enough.

No guards. No.

Guards from the different quarters mistrusted each other as much as the common folk, and they were bound to interfere in matters of dispute. Too much friction for this area for there to be guards.

It was a crime-ridden place, yes, but not so crime-ridden that one would see out-right murder in the open street.

The Spider found an abandoned back alley. The concoction would manifest an illusion, so he had no need to change his apparel. He drank the potion.

The world looked...

Blurry.

He glanced down at his hands. They were not his hands, but rather the hands of a tall, surely handsome young man.

There was an instant of loathing.

That witch whore.

"We must be quick."

_Be quick,_ Nazrednas moaned. _Quiiiick!_

He walked out into the street. Not a soul gave him a second look. Well, he was eyed askance by some Veravid cows. The women stepped clear of him, keeping their gaggling children close to their sides.

He looked about for a good victim. One that was sure to create intolerable outrage. "The Veravids are always outraged," he muttered to himself. "Any one of these will do!"

Nazrednas moaned, which quickly turned into a whaling sob. _Any one of them!_

_Shut up,_ the Spider demanded. "I need to concentrate."

The only thing he was worried about was that it was beginning to get dark. The killing had to be public. There were still a lot of people out, some of them drinking and carousing, as there were a lot of inns and taverns near the area, and they liked to do festivities here as well.

Not surprisingly, there was a lack of Mikuman-style celebrations here like in most of the city. These people cared nothing for the royalty of Yukai City, by and large. And neither did the Spider.

They were suddenly shunted. He kicked his feet to keep from falling on his face and snarled, jerking toward the direction from where the attacker came.

The Spider was quick. He had his hand in his scrip, his fingers gripping the hilt of his blade there tightly.

The young man in front of him yelped. "Easy, there, big guy. I'm sorry!"

When he realized he wasn't under attack, he lowered his hostile posture, but he didn't remove his hand from the knife. There were assassins everywhere. "Watch where you're going, worm!"

The Spider back stepped. He wasn't prepared for his own voice to come out. He thought his voice would change to suit the image of this trickery.

The man who had stupidly bumped into him widened his eyes and quickly stepped away. He must have seemed a freak with the wrong voice.

_The Spider's voice belongs only to the Spider,_ he thought.

He looked about again for the best victim. After a time an unbidden smile split his face as he realized he was staring directly at a group of women with their children. And they were in a good position to be seen from every area of the marketplace.

Yeeeesssss!

Y-yes?

" _Yess!_ "

## The Hurg Assassin

Humans were weak. They were frail and easy to kill.

Even a lithe Hurg like himself could snap their necks with his bare hands. It was the advantage of being born Hurg, a race bigger, stronger, and tougher than humans—and indeed most races—and in almost every way.

Though as an assassin, Urah was under no illusions that the Hurg were superior in magic skill. The Urghamandran possessed many magical secrets, mainly aggressive destruction magic, but was out-classed in every other form.

The Hurg were too aggressive in their thought to learn the finer points of magic. They were, by most accounts, stupid and arrogant. A thought that would have the skin peeled from his body had he been found out within the borders of the Hurg empire.

Urah cared not for loyalties to race or leader. He served himself. He was a rare learned Hurg. That was why he had become an assassin. His specialty, that of the martial arts. He rarely used weapons to kill his targets—he didn't need them. His strong arms and hands were his weapons, and tonight the emperor of the Mikuma Empire would feel Urah's hands around his neck before he perished.

It would be the largest sum of coin he had ever been paid. Of course, he had never been contracted to kill one so important as an emperor or other ruler, though he had darkened the eyes of important members of royal houses, one such being a duke, very likely to be in line for kingship. That eventuality never came to pass, and had Urah not silenced the man, his ascension proved a thing that would not have come to pass.

But still. A duke with potential to become a king had been a high target, taking him to a new plain. Now he was to assassinate the Mikuman Emperor, Kurosawa.

He sat in the back of the theater. He couldn't see the Emperor now, but that was not a problem. The drums were beating fast, an aggressive tempo that was coming to a high plane. The dance, he couldn't see it properly, was nearing its end. The first one at least.

He couldn't make out her face, but the lead dancer was wilting to her sides, spreading her fans to cover her face from the audience. Her feet moved in complex steps in sync with the beat of the drums.

Urah was too refined to smile like a savage while sitting alone in an audience of learned nobles. But he wanted to laugh. The danger he posed just by being Hurg was so great.

Some challenged the new idealism of Mikuma held by the new emperor and his father before him. The Kurusawa dynasty had, quite foolishly in Urah's opinion, decided that Mikuma would be a culture of cultures where all were welcomed and given the benefit of the doubt in equal fashion—the fools.

It only makes my work easier.

He felt like sneering, but cut the emotion away. It was unrefined to sneer while within one's own private thoughts, no matter how preposterous.

## The First Spear

The samurai were donning their armor. Some wore blue, or red, scale or leather. All were the best, most loyal samurai any _daimyō_ could ask for.

Nori Hukama was about to make his move. A well-positioned man was set to fire an arrow and loose it over the palace to signal for the attack. That attack would be launched as soon as the assassin signaled that he was going to make the kill.

If that hurg mercenary failed to kill Emperor Kurosawa, then Hukama's loyal samurai would finish the job, and make captives or bodies out of the rest of the royal family.

That the Shinju royal family had come to Yukai City so suddenly and without warning did not perturb him.

_Perhaps Kurosawa sensed such an attack,_ Hukama thought. _A brilliant move if this was planned, but he can't hide behind the Shinju family tonight._

He hadn't thought the Emperor was this well informed. _If_ he was indeed _this_ well informed as to make a counter play.

A failed counter play.

Another victory would be his, as so many before had been his.

Nori Hukama, the First Spear as he was styled by his own ruler, wasn't one to sit back and allow others to do the heavy lifting. _No._ He lead his own forces into the battles that he fought. Even being paid, why should a warrior risk his life for that of his lord's if his lord was not willing to risk his own for his men?

Because he was honorable and because he won battles, Hukama had become famous and had even made a name of himself. He was a part of history now. But it wasn't enough. He wanted to be immortalized for a thousand years to come, his battles and his ambitions taught in schools of learning throughout the world. He wanted monks to know his name.

_And for that,_ he thought, _I will have to become shōgun... And then Emperor._

Only through great actions could he ascend to such a place.

"My lord _daimyō_ , we are ready," a quiet voice said.

Hukama turned to address his most loyal servant, craned his neck to meet the swordsman's gaze, of which he could not see. Ujiwara Karimato liked to wear his mask. Tonight, he had already stained it with the blood from one of their foes.

He was most notably known as The Sword of a Thousand Suns, a name Hukama had helped spread to glorify his army and to sear its reputation into the minds of his enemies. His disciple's reputation was truly one to send his enemies into sheer fear. The past deeds of his actions would one day be carved out from reality in every shade of marble to be found in the world.

Hukama nodded, slapped his palm against the swordsman's arm. "We've never undertaken such a dangerous task before. The enemy is weak—divided—and yet still dangerous. See that you do not fail me."

Ujiwara bowed.

_It would be a great loss to lose this man,_ he thought.

Hukama stepped forward to address the forty men crammed into the small room. "I will say it again. This will likely be the most dangerous task I have ever asked you do to do. Or possibly ever do. The Kurosawa dynasty might be weak and lack resolve, but the Emperor's guard will be no easy challenge. They are not samurai born and bred on the rice patties of the upper countryside, fat and lazy from too much wine and meat. These men have seen battle! These men will die for their ruler. I believe in you. I know you will overcome them!"

His samurai slammed their fists against their leathered chests and boomed a short but impactful cry that nearly reverberated through the floor boards.

Hukama was ready, and would be there with his men. He also had a contingent of ninja waiting in another location as well as foreign agents working to spread chaos and fear through-out the city at this very moment. He had great confidence in the sorceress' power, and that of a disturbed mad man that called himself the Spider. At first he had doubted the abilities of the shadowy fiend, but Lady Markovila had assured him that the disturbed man would be useful, despite her own apparent distaste for him.

Together, those two mercenaries were currently working to sew anarchy in the city to aid in the general confusion. But his most prized mercenary was the hurg assassin.

When hitting your enemy, always misdirect with multiple points of attack!

Hukama could practically feel the thin bamboo reed his master had used to teach him so many years ago. The _daimyō_ owed everything he was to his old teacher.

# Chapter Four—Sentō

## The Failed Mage

Lawrence awoke on his futon to find the room he had purchased completely dark. From the busy streets and carousing below, he could see a faint din of light. He blinked away the sleep from his eyes.

"How long have I slept?" he asked of no one.

He sat up. The failed mage felt good. He felt rested and guessed that he had slept for at least five hours.

But I stink.

He got up, his feet still sandaled with the grass fiber _waraji_. The floorboards creaked amid the barely audible noises of a busy common room below. The sound of a pair of _shamisens_ and cheerful laughter could be heard.

It was time for a bath. He went downstairs, dodging a stumbling man on his way across the room. There was plenty of eating. And alcohol. It seemed this was more than a place to take a bed for the night, but also a place where local city folk came in the evenings to drink with their friends after a hard day's work.

Lawrence liked it. The atmosphere was light and breezy with a faint draft that came in from the sliding windows and the open door. Despite the summer heat, the common room hearth was ablaze with a suckling pig roasting on a spit. It made his stomach awaken. He sat at a table and waited for the serving woman to find him. When she did, he ordered a plate of the evening meal which consisted of basted pork still sizzling from the spit atop rice, topped with tiny bamboo shoots and a light green pole bean of some kind. And of course, there was the _sake_ rice wine.

The failed mage devoured his food, drank his wine, and when the serving girl came back to pour him more, he waved her away. Tonight was not a night to overindulge in drink. He had just recovered from an ordeal. Satisfied from the meal, he decided it was near time to go to the inn's _sentō_ bathhouse.

He went to the bar and tossed a coin across. It was an older man. Probably the girl's father. She was serving customers on the other side of the common room and was moving about quickly with her work.

"What would you like to drink, sir?"

"Nothing. I just need some information."

The innkeeper raised an eyebrow. He was well kept, his hair tied in a tail at the back, and he wore a double breasted kimono with buttons not belonging completely to the region.

He pocketed the coin. "What kind of information would you like?"

"I'm looking for work," Lawrence said. "I'm not sure I want to join a guild."

The innkeeper nodded. "Do you have any talent?"

"I'm a mercenary with some small magical ability."

"Why don't you want to get work at a guild? You're certain to find some."

"I've recently had a bad experience with the guilds here. It seems a lot of them are involved in high criminal dealings." He didn't actually believe all the guilds were, he was simply trying to find out what the opinion of a local innkeeper was.

The man nodded, telling Lawrence the answer to his curiosity.

"I've sensed a strong air of fear here in this city," he went on in a musing tone.

"Mmm, _souda,_ " the innkeeper nodded. "I would say that is true. A lot of hostility has arisen recently. There's always been contention and unease between the races, but for some reason acts of violence between them has been more common lately."

"Why do you think that is?"

He shrugged.

"Is that everything? I sense that's not all."

The innkeeper looked thoughtful, surveyed the busy common room. "Strange things have been happening lately."

"Such as?"

"Lot of disappearances. Some strange deaths."

"Strange deaths?"

The man nodded. "Bodies have been turning up throughout the city."

"How is that different from the violence between the races when things get out of hand and people die?"

"Violence between groups is usually loud," he said. "This is different. These deaths feel unrelated. They're quiet. They happen out of sight. People simply go missing."

"And then turn up dead."

He nodded. "But the thing that is even more frightening is that their bodies aren't normal sometimes."

"Aren't normal? What do you mean?"

A man sat down at the bar and asked for some wine. The innkeeper paused, poured him his drink and took his coin. He put the wine back and then went to work at the other end of the bar.

Lawrence got up from his chair and went to the end where the innkeeper was waiting for him. "You were telling me about the bodies?"

He nodded, not looking at the failed mage.

"They've been dried out."

Dried out?

"What do you mean 'dried out'?"

"Like they've been drained."

"What could it mean?"

"I don't know," the innkeeper said. The first sign of impatience now present. "They're not dried out in the usual sense. But they're like withered rice husks, like they've been drained of all their blood, except there's no major wounds."

"Interesting..."

"Now if you don't have any more questions, I have an inn to keep. As you can see," he said gesturing to the common room, "I have a busy establishment and my daughter can't do all the work."

Lawrence nodded, thanked the innkeeper for his time. He held the man up for one last moment to pay for a private _sentō_ and left for the bathhouse adjoining the inn, thinking the innkeeper's story to be quite strange.

And eerie.

## The Emperor

The dance was beautiful, as was always the case with the Akaima dancers. The girls scurried about the stage in their kimonos, crisscrossing as they flapped their arms and spread their fans. One jumped over the others in a summersault. The move piqued his interest. He hadn't seen that one before.

Something new.

The Emperor found an unbidden smile on his face. But then he remembered why they were here in the theater. He had given Noriko's hand in marriage to Prince Shinju of Arekaiwa. Hiroto Kurosawa had always known he would send her away to make an alliance for Mikuma, but he never imaged it would be this hard.

He found that he was perspiring and avoided allowing anyone to see his gaze wander from the performance. Thankfully the dancers were quite distracting. But for how long?

The Emperor wanted to glance to his left, to see if his Noriko was enjoying herself. That would tell him much.

_I have avoided speaking with her since giving her hand to Prince Shusuke,_ he told himself forcefully. He didn't want to see her face. Not really. Because if he found there what he knew he did not want to see, that would make this all the harder.

Mikuma needed this alliance. Like his father before him, Hiroto wanted a rich and prosperous Mikuma. An empire that served as a trading hub for international commerce and a neutral place for hostile dignitaries to come on equal grounds to negotiate terms for peaceful resolutions.

Was it a dream?

In some ways—no in many ways, Mikuma had become just that. The wealth of the country blossomed a hundred fold. Rich merchants and lords came and went to and from Yukai City, bringing with them their families and household staffs dressed in fine garments. The Sparrow Concordat had been signed here in this vary palace, a thousand-year-old hostility spanning seven dynasties coming to term in a momentous negotiation for peace! That was the dream of Hiroto Kurosawa and his father before him. In many ways the dreams of the old emperor and himself had been realized. But many things did not come to pass as his forebear or himself had foreseen.

Rife corruption, the utter greed and the festering suspicions and hatreds between the races as they comingled, all placating various powers to get an edge upon the others, to become the dominant faction, weather in regards to faction, family, religion or race.

Mikuma had grown weak and now it was time to gain allies, something unheard of for the empire for fifty years. So far Mikuma had held to a strict pact of neutrality in all matters in regards to the interests of other sovereignties. But now, Hiroto Kurosawa felt his enemies closing in. From within as well as from without.

_The time for neutrality has come and gone,_ he thought. And with that thought he hoped that did not also preclude peace.

He found that he was leaning against his closed fist, his elbow propped upon the arm of his chair, and recomposed himself.

The dance had just come to a dramatic close, the three girls in their kimonos all leaning in different directions, their fans spread. The woman in the front with the white kimono and blue-and-gold embroidery was quite stunning.

The women recomposed themselves, bowed in gratitude. Hiroto clapped mechanically as the audience followed, which was an accident. It was customary for the emperor to clasp his hands a single time, but never clap, as it wasn't dignified for the supreme ruler of the land.

The dancers filed off stage amidst the chorus of voices and general cheer for the performance.

"An excellent performance," Hiroto said. He was speaking to the man on his right, an aging, grey-bearded man—the emperor of the Shinju dynasty, Katashi Shinju.

He nodded. "Indeed."

"There is more planned for tonight."

"Wonderful."

Hiroto needed to relieve himself. "Shall we take an intermission? Perhaps to allow the newly engaged couple to spend some time in conversation among themselves?"

"Of course," Shinju said, nodding in respect.

Hiroto signaled his personal attendant. The small man, dressed in fine court robes clanged a tiny hand gong in the air and his army of underlings quickly created a path for the royal procession, their bodies positioned like statues in a garden.

Each of the men was trained in the highest courts of fashion and ceremonial etiquette. And there was even a few women, too. Behind them, his personal guard positioned themselves, three in front of the procession, a row of them on each side, and three more on the train.

Hiroto, with Emperor Katashi at his side, his son and the royal princess behind them, began to make his way to the lounge.

The performance of the _Akaima Dancing Fans_ had been wonderful when his thoughts hadn't been distracting him. For a time the Emperor had forgotten his worries.

There was a high-pitched scream.

"Who is that?" Hiroto asked.

Heads turned.

The next thing the Emperor knew, he was face first on the royal rugs, all the breath knocked from his lungs in a sudden crush of weight—a cacophony of grunts and cries all around him.

## The Dancer

Still breathing from the exertion of the performance, Sakura sat down on one of the plush benches for a quick rest as various members of the troupe scurried about in preparation for the next dance. Some were disrobing or applying makeup, while others rested, breathing heavily like herself.

Yumiko, a tall woman and also one of the three dancers in the performance, was sitting and resting next to Sakura. "We did great."

Sakura smiled with a nod.

"Yes," Umo said, acknowledging Yumiko. "Well done, _everyone_ , but we're not finished yet—long from it, so get ready for the _Mountain Lilly and the Bear._ You all know what to do, so get ready. You're back out on stage as soon as our glorious Emperor returns from the lounge!" He clapped twice and moved off to some task as a small band of _kotsuzumi_ drummers went out onto stage accompanied by two flutes and a _shamisen_ performer.

Kaiya was removing the makeup from her face in front of a large, well-lit looking glass. She still had a large spot of white paint under her bottom lip when she turned and acknowledged Sakura.

"Well done, little flower," she said, tapping her across the knee with her fan.

"Thank you."

"And your first time as lead," Yumiko said. "Perfect!"

Sakura smiled. "Yes, thank you."

"What's the matter?" Kaiya asked. "You're not upset that I kidnapped you from your house to get you here on time, are you?"

"What? No," Sakura said. "Of course not."

"Then what is it?" Yumiko asked, putting an arm around Sakura's shoulder. "If you're worried about the Emperor, he won't want you. You're not a _daimyō's_ daughter."

Kaiya made a sound of frustration and gestured emphatically with her hand. "Well done, Yumiko! Just make her feel worse."

"No," Sakura said, "it's not that. I'm not concerned about... _that._ "

And just like Kaiya, her frustration with Yumiko became frustration for Sakura. "Well then what is it?! Come, you can tell us." She lowered her voice. "We're all sisters here. Come, come!"

She felt very discomposed. _What do I say?_

"It's really nothing. It's just a personal matter," she said, thinking of the past day's events.

They looked at her, something dawning on Kaiya's face. She looked about conspiratorially and then excitement leapt to her face. "Tell me there's a man! You have a secret admirer?"

" _What?_ "

Yumiko gasped, and with an accusing glance she said, "Gods, you do! Tell us!"

"I... it's..."

"Yes...?"

An image of the mercenary came into her mind. "Okay," she said, and before she could finish the two women were practically jumping.

"I can't believe it!" Kaiya shrieked.

" _Shhh!_ " Yumiko noised, putting a finger to her lips.

Kaiya was indignant. "What?"

"Maybe Sakura doesn't want _everyone_ to know?"

"Oh, right."

Sakura sighed. _What am I getting myself into?_

She didn't know why she said it, but under their combined badgering, she had had no other choice but to make up a story.

There was something about him, though.

"You're blushing, Sakura," Kaiya said.

"I am not."

Yumiko smiled, that infuriating smile that said she disagreed but that she was humoring Sakura's objection.

"Okay, okay," Kaiya said. "Stop." She put up a hand. "Wait. We don't want the rushed version."

"No," Yumiko said, shaking her head. "We should wait."

"Yes, we should wait. So," she said, taking an interminably long time to get to it. She was usually rushed and impatient as a person, Kaiya was. "So, we wait until _after_ the performance and..."

"And tomorrow—"

"No, Yumi! _Tonight."_

" _Tonight,_ " she corrected, her head nodding in sync with Kaiya's.

"Tonight we talk about it when we're all done here." She said, an air of casual non-caring. And then she added with a mischievous look, " _Everything!_ "

_Kami-sama,_ Sakura thought. _I've really done it._ There was nothing to tell.

"Okay."

"Good!" Kaiya said, standing up quickly. "Let's get back to it. We have two more performances!"

Yumiko got up, but Sakura lingered. The other woman grabbed her by the hand and hauled her to her feet. "Come on, Sakura."

She couldn't help it. She joined the other two women in their silly giggling. If truth be told, she did feel a thrilling kind of excitement at the prospect of meeting the mage again, but that wouldn't happen because—

"Is that someone screaming?" Ikio, who was standing near the door asked. He paused for a second, looking out toward the stage. "Something's wrong! There's a lot of people screaming out there!"

"What is it? What's happening?" Umo asked, just entering the room. "Stop distracting everyone and get back to—"

"No!" Ikio said. "Umo, look!" He ushered the other man forward.

The tall man cocked his head, walked over to the drummer with an apprehensive look and went out the door.

"It _is_ loud," Kaiya said. "Almost sounds like people panicking, but it's nothing. It's the foreign jesters making a ruckus!"

"I don't think that's what that is," Yumiko said. "This is scaring me."

"It's nothing!"

Umo dashed back in. "People are out there running about all over. Something is happening. It looks like fighting!"

Kaiya shot up out of her chair. " _What?!_ " she screeched. "This is the palace. It's no place for a common brawl!"

"It's not a brawl," Umo barked. "It's something else. There's too much commotion, too many people screaming."

The screaming and uproar was quickly growing, a sea of voices, most in fear and panic, but others in sheer ferocity and anger.

"It sounds like a battle." Iko ran out the door, along with Yumiko and Kaiya.

Sakura quickly followed, a strong bile of fear blossoming inside her. She didn't know what to make of it.

The sight that met her eyes was... hard to describe. People were running everywhere in every direction. A woman and three men, all finely dressed rushed past them, one of the men falling to his hands and knees. He ran like a dog before catching himself back on his two feet, fleeing past them in a rush of sheer terror.

"Gods!" Kaiya cried. She turned back. " _What is happening!_ "

"Get out!" Somebody yelled. "Get out! The Emperor is dead! They killed the Emperor!"

Sakura's heart leapt into her throat. An attack? On the palace? She back stepped with the others. "The Emperor, dead?"

Oh gods! My family!

"I have to find my family... I have to find my family!"

"No you don't," Umo yelled.

"But they're here! In the palace!"

"We have to go." Kaiya ordered. "We have to get out of here!"

"Keep calm," Umo barked. "Come back! Get back!"

Sakura looked about wildly, thinking she would find her mother and father and two siblings running for safety. Of course she wouldn't. Not here.

"They wouldn't have been seated in this area, Sakura!" Umo said. "Come on!" He grabbed her by the wrist and hauled her backstage with everyone else. Some members of the troupe were already running for the corridors.

The troupe master was right. What was Sakura thinking?

"Who would attack the palace?" Ikio asked, his jaw completely slack. "I can't believe this! Whoever they are, we will repay them tenfold!"

"Now is not the time for that," Yumiko said. She was breathing hard and fast.

"Are you all right?" Kaiya asked. "Yumiko? Someone help me!"

Sakura glanced toward the two women, her own heart hammering inside her chest. They were both on the floor, Yumiko in the other woman's arms, her eyes closed. "She fainted," Kaiya said, voice breaking just a little.

"It's time to go," Umo said. "We need to stay together. It's safer than running about like chickens with our heads cut off."

He ran into another room, came out a few moments later with a _katana_ in his hand.

"Do you know how to use that?" Ikio asked.

"Of course I do!" Umo snarled. "I wasn't always a troupe leader, you know."

"No, we don't know," Kaiya said.

"Enough of that, girl," Umo ordered. "We go out the back. Stay together."

She couldn't leave, could she? Her family was somewhere in the palace. Mother. Father—Tomiichi and Yoko! "I can't leave, Umo!"

"Damn you, girl, yes you can!" He grabbed her by the upper arm, not urgently. "Do you think you can save them? If there's an attack in the palace, what are you going to do? Defend against a _katana_ blade with your fans! _Think, fool girl!_ "

He was right. _I'm a fool._ "I'm sorry." Her breathing was coming in stitches.

"Never mind that. Yumiko is awake now. Help Kaiya."

She nodded, and Umo took the lead, heading for the corridors that would take them out the back entrance of the palace. Sakura took Yumiko's hands and helped pull her to her feet. She was wobbling, but okay.

"It's going to be all right, Sakura," Kaiya said. "I'm sure your family is just fine."

They filed along behind Umo, his _Katana_ naked, held high. It was evident he knew how to use the sword and that it was not the practiced posture of a stage performer.

An acidic bile was building in Sakura's stomach. The muscles in her throat were constricting. She wanted to bend over to retch.

## The Dancer

They were out of the palace now, but to get out proper, they would have to exit through a series of courtyards with high walls and gates. It wasn't difficult to get out, as the gates were easily opened from within.

"I think I'm feeling better now," Yumiko said, moving to extricate herself from the shoulders of Kaiya and Sakura.

"Are you certain?" Sakura asked, after Yumiko paused for a moment, her hand on her breast.

Yumiko nodded vigorously. "Yes, I'm fine. I can walk."

"What's happening?" Kaiya asked. She was looking ahead at the other end of the courtyard where someone was shouting. It was hard to tell who it was because of the press of bodies, but the gate guards were evidentially yelling.

"It sounds like Umo," Sakura said. "Something is wrong."

Together the three dancers entered the crowd, weaving their way to the front. Sakura found Umo, waving a free hand wildly, his _katana_ held loosely in his left.

"...it's full of enemy samurai and ninja!" he was shouting. "If we don't get out soon, the fighting will likely spill out into these courtyards and everyone here will be in danger!"

"Enough!" one of the guards shouted. They were both holding their spears with warding postures. "Come any closer and I gut you like a fish!"

"Why aren't you listening?" someone from the crowd shouted.

"They're going to kill us!" someone else echoed.

"Let us through!"

"If _anyone_ attempts to force their way through this gate," the guard bellowed, "they will be met with our spears! If you survive, you can rot forever in the Yukai City Dungeon!"

"You're not listening," Umo barked. He pointed violently toward the main palace structure, a series of white-walled structures with tiled roofs, bright lanterns and glowing _washi_ paper. "The enemy is inside. If we're lucky, they'll make their exit soon, but we're in danger here. All of us." He gestured to the whole group. It was much larger than just the troupe, as dozens of panicked stragglers joined them on their way out, swelling the size of their small group into a general discordant mob of terrified people wanting to flee.

"And how have these enemies of yours gotten into the palace to begin with? Hmm?" The belligerent guard's eyes were popping. He seemed frustrated, like with that of a child's petulant antics.

"We're not going to get out," Sakura said, more to herself than anyone else, but Yumiko jerked her head toward her, her eyes widening.

"Yes!" Umo bellowed. "They're in there now, killing people. Why do you think we're all out here?"

" _Hai!_ They're everywhere."

"People are dead."

"The Emperor. _Kami-sama_ —the Emperor!"

The guards shifted somewhat, an air of uncertainty crossing their faces. But their belligerence remained. They looked about. The watch towers were manned. There were no disturbances.

"So I'm supposed to just take your word for it?" the guard asked. "If this is some kind of prank, you're already going to rot!"

"Does this look like a prank?" "Kaiya said. "Look at everyone here. We're all frightened enough, aren't we?"

The guard eyed the crowd, and he seemed to think it made sense, at least as far as Sakura could read on his face. But then he shook his head stubbornly. I have orders, and this inner gate opens for no reason ever, unless I'm told to do so by my superiors."

Umo rolled his eyes. "Fine then, you mule! Do as you please."

"I will!"

"Yes, you will!"

Umo waved a dismissive hand, turned and stocked off back toward the palace.

"Where are you going?" Kaiya shrieked. "Umo, you can't go back in."

"I'm not going _back in,_ " he said, "I'm going to find these sponge's superior officer and make him open these gates!"

Someone came out of the door they had used to exit the palace. He was running. Fast. He glanced back, tripped and fell on his face.

Sakura's hand went unbidden to her mouth in shock. That fall looked like it hurt. He was wearing a flowing silken kimono. Not good for running. He moved a bit, looked up to reveal his face covered in fresh blood from the nose injury he had just sustained.

He said something, but Sakura couldn't hear what.

"What did he say?" Yumiko asked.

The man mumbled it again, but then Sakura's eyes went back to the door, where four more people, two women and two men, came rushing out. "They're coming!" a man screamed. "They're killing everyone!"

Umo stopped in his tracks.

The two women he was with screamed, the one behind, still in the corridor, fell. She tried to get up, but a man cloaked half in shadow stepped on her back, causing her chest to slam into the boards. The woman's eyes widened, and then her neck was pierced by a blade with a sickening metallic slice.

People from the crowd cried out. Sakura took two steps back. _Oh gods,_ she thought. _We're all going to die here..._

Hear heart was beating so hard she felt sick again, as the woman who was just stabbed squirmed jerkily while blood gushed from her throat and onto the polished floorboards.

Umo growled and Sakura watched as the old troupe leader's fingers clasped the hilt of his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The assailant in the doorway stepped forward. He didn't move quickly. His body and face were revealed. He wore black armor and his face was covered with an oni mask.

The warrior didn't seem perturbed that a man in front of him was wielding a _katana_ , and clearly ready to use it.

"Everyone, back," Umo ordered. "Once I take this black bastard down, we make for the gate."

"But the gate—" Kaiya began, but Umo cut her off as he abruptly raised a hand for silence. "Be ready."

The black-clad samurai stepped forward, hefting his _katana_. He seemed unconcerned. But after a moment, he raised his weapon, ready for a dual.

Where were his friends?

The distant clamor of fighting and screaming was suddenly audible to Sakura. Was the fighting beginning to spill out into the north courtyards now?

She swallowed.

Could the Emperor really be dead?

Unbidden bile turned her stomach. Her hands were shaking. Sakura balled her fingers into fists to keep control of herself. Yumiko came up beside her, grabbed her by the upper arm and held her close.

"I'm scared."

"It's going to be fine," Sakura lied. There was no way an old man with the beginnings of a paunch was going to beat a hardened samurai in full armor in a sword fight. She turned to the guards at the gate. "Do something, you fools, or are you're going to be next?"

The two guards looked at each other. It took them an interminable time to do anything, but as soon as they made to leave their posts and help Umo, the aging man screamed a battle cry and rushed the samurai.

The black samurai lunged. Members from the crowd screamed.

They moved so fast, Sakura saw nothing. Just a blur, the sound of sharp metal on metal and then both men were facing each other again, their feet spread wide.

Umo was now facing toward the gate. Again both warriors were standing stock still, their swords raised in lethal-looking dueling stances, ready to sheer off the other's head in a flash of movement.

She could see it. Umo. His face twitched. She'd never seen it move that way except once when he had hit his little toe so hard the table and jerked. He had pretended not to feel it, but Sakura had seen the pain there. This was similar, but Sakura was sure that the pain he now felt was tenfold what it was to stub a silly toe.

_I can heal him,_ she thought. She felt as though her heart was trying to break out of her chest so it could skitter across the courtyard tiles for safety. _If he's not too badly hurt..._

She found herself wishing the mage was here. She hadn't seen him fight, or use his magical abilities, but she had sensed his power. He was strong, though his magic was not varied. She suspected he had one, maybe two skills in the magical arts and that was all.

Yumiko sniffed, wiped her face. "Please don't die, Umo."

A sudden flame filled Sakura. She felt like throttling the gate guards. She turned and glared at them. They both seemed surprised at the look she gave them. Perhaps she had never been so severe in her life, but the two men immediately abandoned their posts and fanned out to assist the wounded warrior with grey hair.

The enemy Samurai didn't react very much except for a calm, barely perceptible shifting of his head toward each of the gate guards as he was evidentially taking stock of his situation.

_Is he wondering where his friends are now?_ Sakura wondered. She was not calmed, but she felt a very subtle sense of relief. _They can win now, right?_

Of course, without Umo, the two guards probably wouldn't last more than a few seconds against this warrior. Just by looking at him, even a dancer could see that this warrior was in another class.

Just then warning bells tolled. The guards in the towers moved about, but they were too far to hear from the ground.

"Sakura!"

It was Kaiya's voice, whispered hoarsely enough to be heard from a distance. Sakura started and glanced behind her. She couldn't see through the press of people, but knew the other dancer was there at the gate, some others there helping her to remove the large stopper that kept the doors from opening.

Panicked people started shouting to get through. Sakura ran into the mob, but before she could reach the other woman, Yumiko still holding on to her arm, the gate doors were opened. A general press of excitement and fear filled the air as dozens of frantic bodies rushed forward. Sakura stopped, glanced back toward Umo and the gate guards. "Go, Yumi," she ordered the other girl.

"But..."

"Go on."

Yumiko ran.

None of the four men had moved an inch. "Go," Umo called, just like Sakura had done with Yumiko just now. "I'll be right there shortly. Don't wait for me. I'm going to teach this young pup a lesson in swordsmanship."

Sakura breathed out a long breath of air. She didn't want to distract Umo when his life depended on it, but she couldn't help but call back, "I'll see you soon!"

She turned and ran, her eyes filling and obscuring her path as she trailed the fleeing mob.

## The Alchemist's Apprentice

"Master, we should leave," Jaesi said, feeling nervous as Yukai City was beginning to become unstable. The gangs and guilds were out in force and something horrible was happening at the palace district. Out the window, the young alchemist apprentice could see the smoke and the orange glow of flame. She flicked her ears in nervous agitation.

"Yes, yes. In good time," her master said, seemingly unconcerned. He was a human, but not an easterner. They were both foreign to Mikuma and the east. "We still have to finish this last batch of corrosives for the Unseen Watchers."

Why do they need so much? We've already delivered six crates of this stuff to them today.

How her master maintained such easy composer, Jaesi didn't know. At times she thought she couldn't apprentice under the man, but he had taken her so far in her studies. _I can't leave now,_ she thought, _but what if he gets me killed?_

"They ordered a batch, and we will deliver. They sent a man just hours ago confirming that we were still on to supply the chemicals to them."

"But did you see what's happening in the city?" Jaesi said incredulously as she looked out the window and gestured.

"Indubitably! However, it's of little concern to us."

"It _will_ be if whatever's happening reaches this part of the city."

"Well then, let us finish our task and then we can be on our way."

Jaesi sighed. "I still don't know how I feel about mixing up batches of corrosive chemicals for gangs. Infusing them with magic makes it even more dangerous!"

Her master sliced her with a sharp gaze. Jaesi looked down at the bowl of materials she was putting together to avoid that look. He was often an easy man to deal with and simply brushed most things aside, which made her feel comfortable in her outspokenness around him. Unfortunately, what the master alchemist did not like was when she challenged his authority as the master.

"Now," he said, scratching at his greying beard. "Yes, that batch. Mix that up. This has been activated here. No, no. We don't mix these yet, my young apprentice. It must rest, remember? Otherwise the compounds would emit a magical explosion large enough to destroy the walls around us."

He was working on a bench to her right. Her eyes widened. The near proximity of the dangerous compounds and magicks added to her anxiety. Her fur stood on end. "Do you mean you've been mixing all this here, together, all day, while I've been in the back?"

Her master stopped stirring the batch he had infused with magical energy. He hadn't yet taught her the magicks he used. It was mostly rune magic he bought off of certain vendors as he himself didn't possess magical capabilities.

That was probably for the best.

Without receiving an answer, Jaesi shook her head and stirred up her compound. It was seething and boiling, it's color a bright glowing purple.

"Let me see." He stepped over to her side, looked into the bowl. "Very good. Now these must rest before we mix them, or we're going to have an accident we may not even realize until it's too late."

"Should the bowls be so close?"

"It's fine," he said offhandedly as he turned and scribbled some notes down into his journal on the other side of the long table Jaesi was working at. "Ah," he added, still scribbling. "Could you bring me some more of the Akrulian salts?"

She looked about. "Where?"

"Uh," he mumbled. "Up on the shelf behind you, I believe." He said the words, gesturing offhandedly without even glancing in her direction.

She nodded, turned and reached up to the shelf. As she made to grab the vial of blue salt, she caught sight of something. It was long, like an oddly fashioned rope with hairy fibers.

"Master, what is..."—she grabbed it, and it pulled back. She screamed as the thing scurried across the wall.

Jumping back, she knocked into the table behind her, her hands scrabbling for anything she could to defend herself from the disgusting spider on the wall! __

It's huge!

__ "What is it—why are you shouting?"

"Don't spill— _ahhh!!_ "

"What—whatwhathwat?"

She screamed again as the thing scurried.

He screamed again. "What have you done?!"

Her hands—why were her hands burning? She brought them to her sides and rubbed them over her tunic. It felt like she had put her hands in hot coals. She screamed as the fiery pain spread, her tunic beginning to disintegrate.

Her master shook his arms wildly. "My hands!"

Turning toward him, she found him rubbing his own hands against his body, the purple corrosives infused with magic spreading about.

He hit the large spoon in the bowl he had been mixing and a large glob of the magically infused compound went up into the air and came down onto the stone floor where the other chemicals had spilled.

The cat eye apprentice and human master alchemist looked at one another, eyes wide. "NOOOO!!!!!"

The reaction hissed, and then...

## The First Spear

As his soldiers loaded more _ryo no me_ into the catapults, Hukama watched the palace from on high. The roof of the _machiya_ —a small local dwelling—atop the hill was the perfect vantage point.

The palace burned, and the wall was taking heavy damage. His forces were nearly ready to occupy the structure entirely to make sure the Emperor would not force an extended siege. Sneaking a few dozen of his best samurai into the palace had been easy. But now he needed to take the building.

Bellow in the warrens, a massive riot still raged—a distraction for his soldiers to move about unhindered for a time.

The warning gongs hadn't even being struck yet. His agents had been successful, then. _My strategy requires the utmost swiftness to be successful._

The six catapults were nearly ready to hurl more balls of the fiery shot across the dwellings of Yukai City and into the palace wall, at the City Barracks and on various other targets vital to the defense of the city.

Their contact in the city was delivering more of the infusion on short notice just in case they didn't have enough to breach the wall.

But they did.

Behind Hukama, his engineers filled their _ryo no me_ shot with the substance to help burn their targets to cinders.

Thunder echoed across the city from the west. They had no catapults in that direction. Hukama swept his gaze across Yukai City, saw the explosion and the fire, followed by a plume of smoke.

It seems they've had an accident dealing with the compound he had contracted for...

A random dwelling near the guild quarter. Hukama, the legendary general and First Spear of Daixen shrugged. He had already procured what he needed from the Unseen Watchers, a gang guild that cared nothing for the city it operated in, so long as they were paid. They were nothing more than a virus—a plague of this city. Once he took control, he would have to remove many of these unwanted, discordant elements that made nations so weak—so easy to take by conquest if one had good spies.

"Continue the bombardment," he commanded of his generals. "We must leave this location soon before the Mikuma Imperial forces realize what is happening."

## The Failed Mage

The chamber was larger than he thought it would be. Lawrence had paid for a private _sentō_ bath, and that's what he got. It was very much in the way of the western style. The room had wooden floors and slats to allow overflow to drain away. On the walls were wooden panels and bamboo.

When he entered the bath was ready. It was large and oblong, the water steaming. He undressed and put his folded kimono on the bench. Before getting in he opened the window so the steam could escape the room.

On the far left was a large hearth, the flames there crackling under a large cauldron of water to reheat or refill the bath. It was summer, but the night was still somewhat cool. The hearth was situated far enough away that it wouldn't cause too much heat to be sent his way, fortunately. He already had hot water to heat him.

Lawrence stepped in the bath, completely ignoring the initial pain from the heat of the water. He was filthy and he wanted to bathe. He did. Then he shaved his face clean.

When he was done, he sat, soaking in the tub. For a time he listened to the sounds of nightlife outside. There were plenty of carousers, laughing, talking and enjoying the night.

The failed mage closed his eyes and listened to the distant rumble of thunder. He would have to find some work soon. The silver he had taken from Sakura wouldn't last but a few more days at the rate he was spending the coin. That was okay. He had nearly died. He wanted to be comfortable.

Ishi came to his mind, unbidden and unwanted. Of course, Lawrence didn't own him, so he could do what he wanted. He wondered what would happen to the boy.

Probably find himself in the employ of another mercenary or soldier.

He could take care of himself.

The next thing Lawrence was going to do was to find some work and begin to rebuild his fortune. And hopefully his connections.

Before the war with Xai Qi, he had been quite famous in Omosaku. He was surprised no one had recognized him here. Unfortunately losing the war had cost him everything. He had no need to find out what happened. Everyone has known that had that battle been lost, the Emperor of Omosaku would capitulate completely and raid the fortunes of the nobles and other classes before attempting to make his escape into exile.

The Xai Qi Empire was ravenous and required more and more coin to support its wars of expansion. Now that Lawrence had been reduced to beggary, he wouldn't be marrying Princess Miho. Despite being nineteenth in line to the royal succession, she would have made quite the prestigious wife. And she hadn't been bad to look at, either.

There was no point to wondering what could have been, so he simply decided he would work to achieve what he had lost. It would take time. Perhaps he would go somewhere else, somewhere that wasn't in danger of being swallowed up by an expanding imperial power.

If he could—

His thoughts were cut off when someone started screaming. It was a woman. By the sound of it, her husband had probably been beaten in a drunken brawl or some such nonsense. Those sorts of things were common in areas where night carousing was frequent.

She wouldn't stop. _Certainly not helpful to relaxation,_ he thought.

And then another person was screaming, and in the same manor no less. Frantic, fearful screaming. What could it be? Had someone been killed? Fallen out of a window, perhaps?

He sighed, unable not to sympathize just a little. But it was rather annoying to listen to. "For the love of the gods," he finally roared. "Shut that up!"

He listened. It certain did not stop, and it seemed there were voices added to the mix. A lot of them.

Is there some kind of street-side spectacle happening down there?

There was some movement. He could hear it. A lot of people moving about, running, talking, yelling. They were in the street too. He decided to get out of the bath.

He moved quickly, curious at what was happening, and whether or not there was any danger involved. It was potentially an opportunity to make some coin as well, or maybe just be seen doing a good deed. Fame was often part of fortune.

The failed mage moved to the hearth where there was a tall jug of warm water waiting for him. He poured it over himself to get the soap off his body, then dried himself with the linen.

Before putting on his kimono, he went to the window, completely naked, though his waist was covered. "What's happening down there? _Nani shiteruno desuka?_ "

Five heads looked up, their arms thrusting out in the direction of the palace. Lawrence leaned out the window to get a look and his eyes widened involuntarily.

Definitely an opportunity to make some coin!

The orange-red glow wasn't massive, but large enough to mean there was a pretty big fire spreading either in or near the palace. The grey smoke was beginning its slow but inevitable blanket over the night sky in that direction, the brightly lit stars covered in murky haze.

Ishi was in the palace. _So is Sakura and her family,_ he thought.

Forgetting coin, he decided to make his way to the palace immediately, though he lingered, watching for a few more moments. Just like him, people had their heads poked out of windows, wondering what the commotion was about. The streets were filling, and small knots of people were beginning to coalesce in the general area.

That meant panic and masses fleeing. It must have been bad. Lawrence strode to the hearth and began to draw the fiery energy momentarily living there. It was good energy. He had felt its power earlier after drawing some before his bath, but hadn't wanted to put the fire out.

Now he had no reservations and drew every bit of the fire therein. The energy was thick and luminescent. It filled him. Not completely, but to about the half way mark, if there was a mark. He had enough to make the runes on his arms glow a dark red.

The failed mage turned to don his kimono and saw himself in the mirror. His irises were glowing, flecked with red ember as bright as the fire had been. He put on the kimono, tied the sash tight.

The only thing he was missing now was a proper sword. Not a _katana_. He didn't like the saber style. He preferred a long narrow blade with a cutting edge on both sides that had a straight cross guard. Not because it was necessarily better for every situation, but because it had been the weapon he learned on, and he was skilled with this style of blade.

He strapped his _waraji_ sandals on, and regretting his lack of a sword, he dashed out his door, making his way down the stairs.

## The Failed Mage

The streets were filled with fleeing people and soldiers. The Yukai City samurai were disorganized, but it was clear they were banding together either for an assault or defense. How long that would take, the failed mage couldn't say. Hours maybe.

Too long. He had to go in himself and find the boy. And if Sakura was there, her too. They might have been killed or taken captive. He doubted any of them got out of the palace. How could they? The enemy would have attempted to prevent anyone fleeing. Clearly they wanted to capture Emperor Kurosawa and the rest of the royal family to make sure the line of succession was stopped. Allowing them to sneak out would be unacceptable.

This hadn't been a conventional attack, but a large scale assassination attempt, or at the very least, a capturing of the royal family. It was distasteful to execute royalty in many circumstances. Indefinite exile or comfortable imprisonment was often the preferred method of removal if swearing loyalty as a new _daimyō_ wasn't in question.

Lawrence surveyed the streets, moving quickly and as stealthily as possible. Though he wasn't best suited for stealth, he wasn't bad at it. He could handle a patrol, but he didn't want to draw warriors to him.

A lot of the night sky was filled with roiling smoke. That smoke was limned in the bright moonlight, but as clouds occasionally swept over the sky, the streets took on an eerie, dark cast, orange and red where the fires burned in and around the palace, only to be swept away by the bright night sky and then covered again.

A group of ten samurai, nearly silent, were trotting down the street. They were evidentially patrolling the palace.

Lawrence avoided them by butting his back up against a wall and hiding behind a small potted tree a few feet taller than he was.

The group was barely visible in their black armor as they turned the corner, skirting the outer wall of the imperial palace.

_I won't be getting in through the gate,_ he thought, watching a dozen guards actively positioned to make sure no one entered or left without express say so.

The failed mage skirted the wall to avoid being seen by the sentries atop the wall and dashed down the street two rows back from the palace so as not to be seen or caught by the patrols. There had to be a sally gate somewhere.

_Perhaps I can slip in quietly if the door isn't being guarded._

He could also attempt infiltration by killing a straggling guard and donning the samurai's armor. But if he was spoken to, he would be made immediately. He didn't speak the language of the land like a native, and his race would give him away immediately. There were no western samurai. Not that Lawrence knew of, or ever heard of. He continued down the street, glancing at the palace by peeking into the crossroads leading in its direction.

All the running was tiring work, but he felt good. The energy he had drawn from the _sentō_ house fires was keeping him energized.

Something moved and made a loud noise. Lawrence jumped, ready to send a fiery ball of flames at his attacker, but it was only a young man, his arms full. He stumbled and ran.

The streets were mostly quiet back here, but there were still people in the area. If they were close by, they were hiding in their homes, their shutters closed, or they were currently making their way in the opposite direction of the palace.

Breaking a sweat now, he continued searching for an open gate. The failed mage didn't know how the attackers got in, but surely they would begin moving in more men and defenses to secure the palace. That would be his entry point.

But he found no open gate.

Frustrated, he entered a house in search for rope and found a group of women who screamed in horror upon seeing him.

" _Shh!_ "

They scrabbled, throwing things, grabbing knives to defend themselves. Lawrence realized most of them were quite young. Perhaps an older sister and her younger siblings.

"I said be silent," he snapped, conjuring a ball of fire in his hand.

Their jaws went slack as they stared at him in horror, evidentially ready to be charred to death.

Lawrence pulled the flame back until it went out. "I'm not going to hurt you. I only want to get into the palace."

The little ones were sniffling at their sister's skirts. Or perhaps she was their mother?

"What are you doing in our house?"

"I'm looking for some rope." She stared at him and his frustration grew. He slapped his hands together and she jumped. "Hey!"

"We don't have rope here!"

He looked about, nearly ready to leave. He could search for rope all night and not find any. "Linens will do." He felt half a fool saying it.

For the next ten minutes Lawrence waited quietly as the older girl went to fetch him every single bed linen in the house.

"Where are you parents?" he asked the children.

"Away."

"Where?'

"They went to Kuma."

He nodded.

"Stop talking to my sisters." She shoved a big ball of linens at his feet. "There's what you want. Now please leave."

They were afraid of him, even though he meant them no harm. He felt bad for not leaving, but he said, "I need to tie them together."

She helped him, though he double checked every single knot that wasn't his. He didn't want to fall and break his back while scaling the wall like a fool.

"Is there anything else I can use? Something for a grapple?"

"Taka, what's a grapple?

" _Shh!_ "

"I want to know."

"I said be quiet."

"It's a hook for climbing," Lawrence said.

"Oh! I know!" one of the girls said excitedly. Her mouth was covered immediately with Taka's hand.

" _Shh!_ "

The little girl nodded through her sister's hand. When she was free to speak, she said, "My grandfather has a small boat anchor in the shed."

Lawrence smiled. "Perfect."

It might be hard to throw over the height of the wall, but it would do. The mercenary would find a way, and if he couldn't, then he had no business being here.

"Thank you," he said. And before leaving he spoke to the older sister. "I would take your sisters and leave. Get as far away from the palace as possible."

"We're waiting for our parents," she said defensively.

"I know," Lawrence said. "But you don't know what will happen. You should leave. It's safer."

She looked at him stubbornly. He held her gaze, and finally she nodded. "We'll leave."

He nodded, fished four silvers out of his purse and put it in her hands. "That will buy you some food and passage if you need it, and entry into another city if they insist on being pig-headed about an entry toll."

She cocked her head back, her eyes wide. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," he said. "Just go."

## The Failed Mage

After watching for some time to make sure another patrol wouldn't happen upon him while he was scaling the wall, Lawrence came to the conclusion that the patrols were not in fact what he thought they were. They were too varied in number, makeup and frequency to be patrols.

It was clear that they were small contingents of various warriors heading in a particular direction. The failed mage had wondered where the palace garrison was. Either they were all dead, which was unlikely, or they had left the area in pursuit of an enemy force.

_The Emperor can't be dead,_ he thought. _There's no other reason to abandon the palace._

He stepped into the empty street. Well, it was mostly empty save for a fleeing person or cat here and there. And of course, the roadside was littered with the dead—warriors from both sides. There had been fighting here. A lot.

Carefully, and wary of enemy soldiers, Lawrence crossed the street, his makeshift rope and grapple in hand. He walked straight to the gate, which was closed. He tried peaking inside, but there was no crack to do so. For some reason the guards were gone from their posts on the outside.

He put his hand on the smooth wooden frame and pushed. He pushed harder, but the door didn't budge.

"When will we have enough reinforcements to man the towers?" a voice asked. "I don't feel comfortable holding this position with so few men."

Lawrence listened, angling his ear to better catch the words.

"I don't know," another voice said in response. "As long as the fighting is in the western districts, does it matter?"

"There's more than one garrison in this city."

Lawrence stepped away. He moved farther down the wall, noting that the towers were empty. They were holding the palace with a skeleton crew. They probably had more men at the front gate, but this being the eastern gate, it was hardly even manned.

The failed mage found an abandoned wagon to assist him. Two paces higher afforded him a better chance of getting the anchor over the wall. After three tries, the anchor finally caught onto something. Probably the overhang on the other side. He pulled, put a good deal of weight on the makeshift rope to test it, then began to grapple the wall.

Getting over the eve was a slight challenge, but he finally made it to the top. He made sure to keep low, pressing his chest against the tiles and staying on the side facing away from the palace grounds so that any of the patrolling men that made up the skeleton crew inside wouldn't see him.

His view was aided a great deal at this height. Lawrence could now see that there were dozens of fires in the city farther past the palace. The attackers had evidentially split up, hitting key points as part of their plan. The outer back wall was completely destroyed in one part. Somehow it had been melted. Whatever this attacker was doing, killing or capturing Emperor Kurosawa had been the main part of their plan.

Would he find Ishi here? Would he find Sakura? He didn't delude himself, knowing they could easily both be dead.

I have to check. At the very least, I need to know.

He slid off the roof, landing in the yard in a roll to break his fall, then quickly stole across the grounds, glancing this way and that, and up at the empty towers. Nothing. The skeleton crew was obviously positioned most heavily, if heavily was a word that could be used, at the front gate. More a false show of force than anything, assuming his assumption was even true.

After not so stealthily passing through the inner wall and a series of courtyards, Lawrence came upon the part of the palace where the performance hall was situated.

The grounds had many walkways covered overhead with tiled roofs supported by large red pillars. Trimmed bushes, flowers and other ornamental shrubs girded the landscape at every passing.

Making sure not to trip over any corpses, he made his way to the theater hall, stopping to grab up a _katana_ that had been thrust into the earth, its owner dead beside the blade. He took the time to unfasten the buckle and belt that strapped the sheath to the once owner's hip. He fastened the weapon to his waist and walked inside.

He remained quiet upon entering the hall. It was a mess. Chairs were overturned, bodies littered the floors and blood-spatter stained the rugs.

Slowly he walked up and down the aisles of chairs, searching for Ishi or Sakura-san. _He won't be here,_ he thought. _This area isn't for riffraff._ Not that the boy was indeed riffraff, but that's how he would have looked and beeen seen by the nobles and royals there. The performance hall was practically a court gathering. No, it _was_ a court gathering.

But Sakura was a dancer, so she wouldn't be here, so he loped toward the stage, found a dead performer there. It looked to be a drummer, most of his skin bare except for the sash he wore.

He stepped up on stage and made his way into the dressing area. It was empty. There were no people here. No bodies. Only things strewn about, kimonos, under garments, and costume apparel.

Where are they? Did they get out of the palace?

## The Dancer

They hadn't gotten out of the palace. Sakura had lost the others—Kaiya, Yumiko, and the mage's attendant Ishi. But after they had been captured, they were reunited. What's more, Sakura had also been reunited with her parents and her sister Yoko. Tomiichi had a bruise across his face.

"I'm so glad you're all right!" her mother had said, embracing her and running her hands up and down Sakura's back and over her shoulders. "And you're not hurt?"

She held Sakura away, her eyes glancing about her neckline at the blood covering her.

"No, mother." She smiled, happy to see them. "I'm fine. It's not mine."

Despite seeing her up and about, her mother seemed to exhale at her words. Her father, Hitomo came forward and also embraced her with a sigh of relief.

"How did you get out of the palace?" Yoko asked. Their mother, Yukio, glanced toward her younger daughter, then back to Sakura.

"Well..." she said, shrugging. She felt numb. Images of Umo came to her mind. Her hands were still shaking.

She was afraid. No, she was terrified, still.

Upon making their escape, the group had been viciously attacked, Sakura nearly clove in two, but for her speed. She had been able to side-step the blade. Unfortunately the man behind her took the full force of the attack. She was still sticky, her Kimono spattered and soaked at the neckline after she had been drenched in the poor man's blood.

Only after the group had been thoroughly terrorized, many of its members killed, were they taken captive, then herded into this outbuilding that was evidentially used for storage. Being up on the third level would make any chance of escape much more difficult. The only reason Sakura thought she knew this was because of Tomiichi. One could learn many things from a sibling Watch Commander.

After being reunited with her family, Sakura turned to her friends. Most of them were here.

Hours passed.

"What are they going to do with us?" Kaiya asked.

Yumiko sighed, clearly exasperated. Sakura felt the same. "You've asked that a hundred times, Kaiya."

The other woman didn't respond. She only paced back and forth. She looked to Sakura to be in deep thought, but she wondered if the other woman wasn't simply terrified and this was how she displayed those emotions.

Everyone was afraid. Most of them stayed huddled in little groups on the wooden floors. No one wanted to look out the windows. The palace grounds were covered in dead bodies and the whole west wing of the Imperial abode was afire and smoking as if end times had come.

Sakura forced herself to look out the window. That's when she saw something. A man. He was tall. Not Mikuman and not of any race of the local lands. His skin was pale, his eyes—at least for a human's—were more rounded than that of her own people or the various cousin peoples.

It's him...

"Look," she said calmly, though she didn't feel calm. She felt a surge of excitement and hope build inside her.

"What is it?" Tomiichi asked.

"It's the mage."

"What mage?" Yumiko asked.

"What are you talking about, Sakura?" Kaiya said, stepping past some people in a not so polite manner. "Who is that?"

"It's..." Hitomo began, but he left the rest hanging.

"He's my master," Ishi said.

Sakura smiled. "I thought you said he wasn't your master." She looked at the short lad. He was a little small for his age. Too young to be the attendant of a warrior expected to fight in battles.

The boy shrugged.

Spurred on by their curiosity, many of the people, dejected, afraid, and crying, got up from where they were sitting to see what the fuss was about. Now there were nearly thirty people watching as a bewildered-looking foreigner wearing a kimono and a _katana_ , came out from under the courtyard roof.

"Oh no," Yumiko said. "They're here."

The attackers hadn't left. Of course not. And a group of them was fanning out as they approached the mage, among them the largest samurai Sakura had ever seen.

"Look," someone exclaimed, pointing. "It's the Masked Demon!"

"General Muji?" another asked.

"Who?"

"I've never heard of him."

Sakura's father looked on as he caressed his chin thoughtfully. "These are not the same samurai who attacked us."

"What do you mean?" Yumiko asked.

"Their armor. It's different."

"It's not black," Tomiichi said.

"Mmm," Hitomo noised. "But are they with the others?"

"Father," Tomiichi said, turning to Hitomo. "General Muji is our man."

Hitomo raised a skeptical eyebrow.

## The Failed Mage

Lawrence left the theater hall not quite sure what to do next. If he was to find the boy or Sakura, where would he go?

Where should I look?

He was now standing on the hardwood patio in front of the theater in a courtyard with an encircling roof in front of him. Beyond the area a group of warriors was approaching.

They had seen him. There was no use in running.

The failed mage stood his ground, nudging the _katana_ at his hip a few inches forward. He was going to have to use the weapon.

The warriors—most of them wore leather armor, some scale and a few none at all—fanned out, barring his escape. He narrowed his eyes, wondering if he even had a chance. He felt good, had a lot of power coursing through his body.

His eyes would no longer be glowing, but some of his luminous runes across his forearms might still be visible if it weren't for his kimono.

In the group of warriors was a giant samurai wearing an oni mask. The mask was not that of the horned race that had adopted the name, but a mask representing an actual oni demon.

The big one sauntered straight toward him. "I am general Muji," he said, his fingers tightening around his _katana_ sheath at his hip. "Who are you?"

Lawrence had heard of this general before, though couldn't recall any information about it, other than that he was a talking point—a foreign general with battle prowess, success, and a force of warriors who idolized him. And a sheer terror in a duel.

This should be interesting... Does it matter what I tell him?

"Ecnerwal Kciwzac," he said. The amusement wasn't lost on Lawrence, even in this lethal situation. In fact, it seemed even funnier than before for some reason.

He watched as the huge samurai glanced about, probably working his mouth silently around the name behind his mask, and failing. Evidentially he had decided not to attempt to repeat it, because when he addressed Lawrence, he didn't do so by name, as was considered honorable between warriors, even opposing warriors such as himself and this samurai. Hopefully. "What are you doing here?" He waited a moment and then drew his sword. He pointed it menacingly at Lawrence, who said nothing. "I ask again, intruder. What are you doing here?"

The failed mage eyed the group surrounding him. He wasn't going to escape, and there really was no reason to lie. "I'm looking for someone," he said. "Someone I lost."

"Put down your sword and you will be allowed to live, _gaijin_."

# Chapter Five—Generals and Daimyōs

## The Daimyō

_Everything is ruined,_ Ujio Sakuraichi thought. _This isn't how it was supposed to be!_

They sat in what was supposed to be the living quarters inside of an abandoned house atop a hill overlooking the palace. Half of the palace and the eastern city gate were in ruins. Flames licked about, devouring anything in its way. Fires dotted the city. The attack had been multipronged and well organized.

Whoever was behind this was a master tactician and a skilled strategist. On the night that Emperor Kurosawa was to be assassinated, bringing an end to the cultural pillage of the Mikuma Empire, an invader struck.

Sitting as stoically as the kami would allow, Ujio felt like he wanted to twist someone's neck in his hands. He wanted to feel the delicate bones there break, the sound of them popping under his palms. There was no such person to strangle.

His captains sat in front of him in a semi-circle on the hardwood floor, as he did. "Someone," he said through clenched teeth, "tell me what is happening!"

"I have ninja surrounding the palace as we speak, my lord _daimyō_!" It was Haku who spoke. She was sitting on the far left of his captains. She wasn't a commander in Sakuraichi's army, but rather a personal advisor, a guard, and his secret lover. Like her name, Haku had unusually pallid skin. She wore a white kimono that matched her stark snow-white hair that fell down to her jaw line.

The _daimyō_ looked at her. "What do they know?"

"Some of them are returning now."

He said nothing. It was the only thing he could do to keep himself from an outburst. As angry as he was, he wanted solutions, not cowed captains who could only lay their eyes at their own feet! In this case, the wooden floors.

"Where is Muji?"

"He hasn't returned," the captain on the right said.

Haku—the White Feather as her legendary title went—moved her hands off her thighs and pushed against the floors as she got up. She was a feminine woman, but that only belied her skill with the blade and her acrobatic grace. When she fought, it was as though she were floating on air, a feather with a blade. "I will speak with the returning ninja."

"No!" Ujio said. "I want them brought here. They can tell me what they have to say themselves." He was feeling too impatient to wait for information to be relayed to her and then from her to him, despite the fact that she was a filter to keep him from smaller distractions, even if they _were_ ninja.

The ninja were brought in. There were two of them. Both had been samurai before their _daimyō_ had died. Unwilling to follow him to the gods, they had become wanderers and mercenaries. _Rōnin_. Then eventually ninja, as they learned the black arts of stealth and assassination.

They bowed to the _daimyō_ , their movements quick and succinct. "We have reports, my lord," the smaller of the two said. He had a deep voice and his face was still covered, the visible skin inked to maintain a fully black figure for better stealth.

"What did you learn?" Ujio asked.

"We do not know who it was that attacked the royal palace"—a flare of Ujio's frustration lashed within him—"but we do know what they are after."

An enemy ambush against the palace at the time the Emperor was to die was a major inconvenience to the _daimyō_ 's plans. The assassin had made his move, but he was unsuccessful and the Emperor had fled.

"Go on..." he said in a tone that usually warranted an imminent death.

The ninja seemed neither afraid nor nervous, or even confident, but simply objective and cold as he delivered the words. "We captured some of their outliers and made them talk. From the mouths of their own samurai, they are here to kill the royal family and usurp the throne." The _daimyō_ was about to interject when the ninja continued. "The reason for their attack at this time is that if they fail, you, my lord _daimyō_ , will take the blame so that a war could be averted."

Ujio grit his teeth, his eyes narrowing. _So they wish to be safe. To take Yukai City, and by extension, the Mikuma Empire by pure treachery. But how did they know my plans?_

"Do you know what country?"

The once-samurai nodded, a sort of half bow. "We do not know for certain. They employ many foreigners into their ranks, but we have strong suspicions that they are from Daixen!"

He didn't ask why they were able to get the other information, and not this simple piece of the puzzle. Their prisoners had probably died before they could wring out the lesser information.

The _daimyō_ nodded, thinking as he tasted the word on his mouth. "Daixen..." Emperor Zulo had always been jealous of Mikuma and there had been many times the two countries were on the verge of war. But neither country wanted out-right conflict.

"Their numbers?" Ujio asked.

"It is hard to say," the ninja said. "They have forces scattered through-out Yukai City." He glanced toward the other ninja, giving him leave to speak now. "Reports are still coming in, but as it stands, we estimate that they have between four and seven thousand troops inside the city."

"How many outside the palace?" Ujio only had a few hundred men currently within the walls. It was not yet known that the assassin had been paid by him. The _daimyō_ had sent many of his forces to escort the Emperor only a few hours ago. It was his only course of action once it became clear the palace was no longer safe against this attack.

Had he been able to end Kurosawa's reign and become the new ruler of Mikuma, this new enemy might well have ended him moments later. Fortunately right now, he had the Emperor in the palm of his hand. He had but to make a fist to expunge his life. But now he had another problem to deal with.

_This invader,_ he thought. _I will destroy him first before I finish what I set out to do this night._

"There are far more of them outside of the palace than we have within." It was Haku who spoke. "They have breached the walls and can take our men easily."

"Muji is in there..."

The White Feather stepped within his line of sight on the left side of the room, a long pause ensuing. She said, "We should withdraw."

How could an enemy sneak such a large force into the city? How did they get past the gate, unless they were smuggling supplies and weapons into the city? It would have taken months of work and planning.

How dare they think they can Get away with this treachery!

Ujio suddenly felt dejected. "Mikuma is truly week if our enemies can slip past our notice so easily."

"Don't say that, my lord _daimyō_."

"They have us by the throat!"

There was a long pause. But then Haku spoke up with a suggestion, as she so often did. "Then we take the fight to them. Rally our forces, strike when they least expect it—while they think us a wounded animal."

Ujio met the woman's eyes. So beautiful. And wise. His dejection lifted and he felt his spirits return. How she could do that to him so easily, so quickly, he didn't known. All he did know is that half his actions he did for her.

"Yes!" he said, getting up from the wood floor. His captains followed. "We will not shrink like beaten dogs, like curs at the boots of these invaders."

He exchanged glances with her, a subtle nod.

"Tell us what to do, lord _daimyō_!" one of his captains said.

"We need information," Ujio said. They would beat back this enemy, show to the world that Mikuma was not yet dead. "Recall, Muji! I want him here at once. We must form a plan of battle. We will skirmish our enemy. Harry him until his losses are so great. Once our forces have been coalesced, we will pursue him and crush his spirit! He will have no choice but to leave our city, and our lands."

His captains seemed shocked, but they did not quarrel with him, a good thing, as he might well have cut them down at that very moment, had they done so.

"We need more scout reports," Haku commanded, clearly addressing the ninja. Despite the command, she was soft-spoken. The two stealthy warriors bowed and ran from the room, moving to their tasks with haste.

Ujio glanced out the window at the palace situated at the bottom of the mountain, its moats a silver gleam in the moonlight as the rest of the structures and the grounds were bathed in red shadow.

The Emperor would have to wait.

## The Failed Mage

The oni-masked samurai's blade nearly sliced him in two, but Lawrence dodged the attack. His opponent was very fast. Too fast, and Lawrence didn't have the skill he needed with the similar, albeit much shorter weapon.

He stepped in for a counter attack but the general's blade met his, a scrape of sharp edges sounding through the air.

Lawrence jumped back again before his opponent could come at him with a counter to his counter. He could barely get in close enough to land a hit, if he ever got the chance to land a hit.

He remembered now that this huge general Muji was often called the Masked Demon. There seemed to be no escape. His blade was at least half again as long as the one Lawrence had.

These _katana_ s were cutting swords, not thrusting swords. He was never going to land the blow he needed, and if he did, his opponent's red armor would probably sustain the blade's edge, unless Lawrence managed a perfect cut.

They were beginning to surround him.

The failed mage considered using his destructive powers. A few fireballs would send a good number of his enemies running in agony.

It wouldn't be enough. They would still take him down and he would die tired. Escape didn't seem a very likely option either.

The samurai came at him again.

Lawrence parried the blow, elbowed the other warrior in the side of the head. The clout seemed to get him to slow down, but it clearly didn't hurt. The man was too big!

Lawrence stepped back. If he killed this general Muji, the rest would close in. Finish off the _"gaijin"_ who had killed their beloved general. "Are you their leader?" he asked, barely dodging another thrust. "The ones who attacked the palace?"

Muji ignored him.

Lawrence continued to dance about, trying to tire the other man out, but he wasn't moving particularly fast, save for his _katana_ thrusts. He could probably do this for half the night. Lawrence could not.

Something needed to change fast or he was dead.

Those sword strikes were getting closer. Much too close. Lawrence began to call on his magical reserves. Four or five fireballs would be enough to thin their ranks.

The Masked Demon stopped short of confronting him again. "Stop!" His men obeyed immediately.

Lawrence was confused.

"This is a dual among honorable warriors," the giant declared. "Do not interfere."

_Lucky,_ he thought. _But now what do I do? I can't beat him._

## The Dancer

Sakura was a dancer, not a swordsman, but even she could tell this fight wasn't going in a good direction for the mage. She wanted to scream, tell him to watch out, or to yell out a command to take the samurai down.

That last part seemed unlike her. She wanted to escape, for her parents to escape, but right now she felt more concern for the mage's safety than the fate of everyone in the room.

Beside her, stood her mother and her father. Hitomo was watching the fight intently, the look on his face she knew well. The one he had when he was worried.

"He's dead," a stranger in the group declared.

She looked to her father, who met her gaze. He said nothing, turned back to watch the fight. She knew he thought the same, and a samurai himself, she had little doubt he was wrong.

_This can't be,_ she thought. _He came here to save us!_

"He's not going to die!" Sakura shot back, glancing toward the pessimistic fool.

"How's that?"

"You're a dancer, aren't you?" another asked.

"Do you know anything about sword fighting?"

"Give him a chance," Sakura said to the doubters, "because he's the only one we have. There has to be something we can do to help."

"Such as?" The man who had declared Lawrence dead said. He glanced toward her, but he didn't seem to care about her rebuke to himself or the rest of them.

Without the mage, how would they get out of here? They had no weapons and only two fighters among them now that Umo was...

She couldn't think about that.

Lawrence-san continued to side step, occasionally moving in for a quick counter attack, but the huge samurai parried his attacks every single time, and when he came in for his own, it seemed all the mage could do to keep his opponent from cutting his head off.

"You're right, Sakura," Tomiichi said. "There has to be something we can do!" The gate captain knotted his free first while he held Yoko close with his other hand.

"Perhaps," Hitomo said in a sort of half sigh, "we can create a distraction." Her father's suggestion seemed half-hearted.

"But what good would that do?" Kaiya asked as she gestured toward the fight in the courtyard, her hands moving about forefully. "He can't even seem to take that one samurai down. Even if the rest break away to deal with us, we're lost."

Sakura didn't want to say it, but her friend was right, and so were the rest of them. _But we have to do something, right?_

Someone behind her cleared his throat. Sakura turned and found a horned man with red skin sitting a few paces behind her.

"I may be able to assist with that."

Somebody from the crowd snarled an epithet against the oni.

Sakura made a noise of exasperation. "Enough! If he can aid us, then let us hear him out."

"What could one oni possibly do to help?" the first doubter asked.

"Let him speak," Hitomo said. "We have no plan and no options. If the mage down there can't do something," he gestured to the window, "then we have no hope of escape."

"So?" the man—clearly an out of touch noble—asked. "We're prisoners of war. I'm sure we'll be treated with the due respect we deserve."

"Are you mad?" Tomiichi asked. "Weren't you there when they cut half the royal court down in their attack?"

"I'm so confused," Kaiya said. "I thought the attack was from a foreign power, but now the samurai on the ground down there look like they're from house Sakuraichi."

Hitomo nodded. "Hmm. It seems so, doesn't? Something is amiss."

"Quite clearly, old man."

"Show my father respect!" Tomiichi snapped. "He was fighting Emperor Aiechi's wars while you were still at your mother's breast!"

"How dare you speak to me this way, you common riffraff!"

Kaiya rubbed her eyebrow with her fingers. "Ugh! Please..."

Yukio's mouth went wide. Her mother was not one to endure slights like that. "Riffraff? How dare _you_ , sir! We are noble born. We have samurai in our family."

She moved to display her husband and son as some mothers would do, but Hitomo simply raised a hand for peace. "This bickering is getting us nowhere." He turned to the haughty man, who was evidentially a noble. Either that or he was an actor in the theater she had never seen. "If you have a plan, tell us."

"We do nothing."

"Nothing?" Sakura asked. The man was a sniveling coward without an ounce of dignity. "You're welcome to stay here."

"Don't talk to me like that!" he snapped. "Are you an uncultured whore to speak to your betters this way?"

Sakura barely saw what happened.

People gasped. Some women yelped, and then the man was suddenly on the other side of the room. He had... She blinked. He had shot backward, fell on the wooden floor and rolled about in a heap several paces past the oni.

The red-skinned oni in question had his fingers pinched together as though he were holding a large invisible ball, his elbow cocked back as if he had pulled on something.

"Did he...?" Yumiko asked, but Sakura barely heard her.

"Are you a magicker, oni?" Tomiichi asked. "A mage?"

"Disgusting," somebody muttered.

"To treat one of the court so..."

The oni ignored whoever made the slighting comments. "I do possess... certain... magical ability... some might say."

Sakura glanced toward the unconscious man who had insulted her. "I'm certain that was called for."

"Can you get us out?" Hitomo asked.

Sakura glanced back toward the windows, but she was too far to see the grounds below right now. It seemed everyone had completely forgotten about Lawrence down there, fighting for his life after coming to rescue them. "What about Lawrence?"

Everyone turned to her.

"Who is Lawrence?"

She gestured forcefully to the window. "The mage that came to rescue us?"

"Oh yes," the oni said. "Well... I'm not entire certain about _his_ potential for rescue... however... I may be able to save us... should we work together... put aside our... _differences._ " He spoke in a breathy, ponderous way. He was very strange.

"Yes!" Yumiko said, stepping forward to Hitomo's evident surprise. "Do what you can, oni!"

"Very well..." the oni said. "But first... my name... it's not 'oni.'"

Sakura rolled her eyes, feeling a strong tinge of frustration. She wanted to lash out. Demand that they try to save the mage who came to rescue them. But in the end, what could they _really_ do?

She went to the window, cast her eyes down at the man fighting for his life.

## The Masked Demon

A sword thrust.

Parried.

A horizontal slash.

Evaded.

An overhead death blow.

Parried then evaded, followed by a counter attack.

The Masked Demon stepped back. His enemy was quick and nimble, but he didn't have the reach needed to get past Muji's guard.

As it was, the smaller man was clearly beginning to tire. To stay out of his reach, he had to maintain his vigilance, which required quickness on his feet, while Muji simply turned to face him, his long _katana_ keeping the other man at bay.

But there had been several times he had nearly landed a blow on the huge samurai. His armor would protect him from death, but it wasn't impervious to a finely honed blade such as the one this _gaijin_ devil from the west was wielding.

With a parry, Muji snarled from behind his mask. What made him angry was that this foreigner was wearing a kimono in the Mikuma style.

Who does this imposter think he is?

It didn't matter. Muji would cut him down as he had cut down twenty men before him this very night.

Was he a spy? Part of that other army sent to attack the palace?

The large samurai wondered if that was how their enemy had known the perfect time to attack, on the very night that the Emperor was to be assassinated. The night his lord Sakuraichi was to ascend the throne.

A moment of weakness. The perfect time to strike.

He lunged at his smaller opponent, but the man side stepped him. He pursued, slashed, but his weapon was parried to the side.

Muji made certain not to use long sweeping slashes or lunges, otherwise the other man would move past his guard and kill him on the spot.

He narrowed his eyes, watching the foreigner breath. "You're good, stranger. You have much skill. But I will kill you this night."

The other man did not lower his guard. "What are you waiting for?"

"You're very arrogant."

"It's not that," the man said. "If you prefer to talk, let's talk. Perhaps we can come to an agreement, otherwise let's fight."

The Masked Demon was not so demonic as his reputation. Certainly he had killed scores of his enemies, many times quite brutally, but he did not find the killing an enjoyable experience. The dance of the sword was his life. But the killing... the blood.

He was no sadist.

_The man is tired,_ he told himself. _He is probably stalling..._

"The tricks of an adolescent," he said, lunging with his blade.

The man side-stepped the attack, glanced behind him. He must have realized Muji's samurai forming a loose ring around their fight, and that he was nearing the armed warriors.

He pushed forward, going on the assault.

Muji back stepped. The man's attack was faster now, more aggressive. His blade came in multiple times, then he side stepped before attacking again.

He was losing ground. He couldn't believe it. He jumped, parried another blow, then hit something.

Unable to retreat, he swung his blade ferociously, realized what he was pressing up against, and rolled his body over the short flat-topped hedge. His boots landed in a bed of delicate flowers on the other side, crushing them lifeless.

His enemy stopped short of the hedge, apparently unwilling to pursue Muji across them. For a man surrounded by his enemies, he certainly put a lot of trust in Muji not to simply order him killed out of frustration.

That is, if he does not know winning this duel will save his life.

It was a great dishonor to fight a man in a fair dual and then have one's men kill him after winning, even between enemies in warfare. It would be dishonorable not to tell him. "Come at me," he said. "You must know that if you defeat me here, my men will not kill you."

The shorter man, tall for the average, though still shorter than Muji, said, "Is this true?" He lowered his guard.

"Yes," he replied emphatically. "Why would it not be? Do you dishonor me by thinking I do this for sport?!"

"No," he said, breathing. "I've always wondered," he continued, catching his breath, "how you people... fight in these things." He gestured to the large open sleeves of his kimono.

For a man with a dour reputation for killing, Muji surprised himself as he laughed so hard he had to hold his stomach.

The other man chuckled as well. Had they not had to kill one another, he thought that maybe this man might be an interesting one to know. Unfortunately Mikuma didn't need more foreigners. It was time to end this.

"My lord Muji- _sama!_ " a voice called. There was urgency there.

Muji back stepped, then turned to the man. He was clearly bearing an oral message. He leaned in to speak. "My lord," the Samurai said, breathing from his run, then more quietly he said, " _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi has ordered that you and your men abandon the palace and regroup with him."

He couldn't help but snort, the anger taking him instantly as he grabbed the other man by the upper arm, his whole body nearly lifting off the ground.

The samurai's eyes bulged. "My lord! It's the order of the _daimyō_!"

He had no ill will toward the message bearer, and certainly not toward Sakuraichi. But the idea of abandoning the palace so easily angered him beyond explanation.

No! There _was_ an explanation for his anger. Muji hated that they had been surprised so thoroughly and that his lord _daimyō's_ plans had been halted. But that this enemy thought he could usurp them under their noses.

And now they were abandoning the palace with barely a fight? It enraged him.

Snarling he glanced toward his enemy, then back to the message bearer. "Why does he order this?"

The samurai swallowed. He was a short little man, though Muji did not doubt his swordsmanship or devotion to the _daimyō_ in the least. "He said that the palace was not defendable and that we must regroup to begin making new plans for attack. He wants you there."

He narrowed his eyes again, glanced toward the _gaijin_ and thought, _What am I to do about_ him? He glanced at the foreigner standing there behind the hedge.

"All I want is the boy and the girl," the man said with a shrug.

"What boy?" Muji asked. "What girl?"

"And her parents," he added.

Annoyed, he asked, "Who do you speak of?!"

"No one of consequence, I assure you. A boy of Omosaku and a dancer in the troupe at the palace. Her brother, sister and her mother and father. They have no association with whatever it is you're trying to do here."

Muji thought for a moment.

"My lord! Look!" one of his samurai called.

Muji's eyes found the voice. The warrior there, and the men around him were all following his finger-point with their eyes.

There was a flaming fireball in the sky.

It hit the palace wall as three more behind it hit the palace grounds at varying distances, one of them landing in their approximate area.

There had been a pause for a time. Muji had thought they were through with their attack, but this second wave of _ryu no me_ exploded, sending a concussive force stronger than a _taiko_ drum across the open space. Heat and flame scattered, spreading aggressive flame everywhere over the wet grass, which did not deter its travel.

Muji watched, almost unconcerned for his own safety. _Dishonorable cretins!_

This was the second time they had attacked the palace. The first time had created a breach and yet no warriors had entered. The enemy had also hurtled _ryu no me_ across the city in various locations, creating a glowing orange conflagration.

He targets us well—creates distractions...

They didn't have time for this, so he offered the man an ultimatum as he stabbed his _katana_ forward. "Surrender now, and if what you say is true, on my honor I will let you and those you speak of go, so long as my lord _daimyō_ does not have other plans for them. Decide!"

## The Failed Mage

_"The Masked Demon" is making me promises?_ Lawrence wondered. _On his honor?_ This massive samurai didn't seem the sort to make promises upon honor. With that horrendous oni mask, he looked to be more the sort that would find glee in massacring hundreds of people, disemboweling them as an added delight.

Possibly even eating the entrails afterward...

The failed mage tightened his grip, the enemy warriors closing in. He had to make a decision now. The huge samurai was obviously pressed for time. They all were, what with the _ryu no me_ screaming in at them. Another exploded within the palace walls in an oily mess of fire.

The samurai had given him an option, otherwise he would probably be forced to have his men kill Lawrence.

"Make your decision!"

He hated this. But Lawrence had no choice. He growled in frustration and stabbed his _katana_ into the soft grass. It wasn't but a moment later that he was grabbed by both arms, the grips of the samurai beside him none too gentle.

But the massive warrior nodded at him, then to his men he said, "We get the palace guests and leave the grounds. Before we're assaulted again. Too many have died."

" _Hai!_ " his samurai cried, and they ran for the entrance of the out building. The doors were opened and Lawrence, the failed mage, was ushered in to join them.

Is Sakura and Ishi even here with the people they're holding? Are they prisoners, or are they being protected?

General Muji lead his men into the out building. Lawrence was no small man, though he wasn't muscularly built, they practically dragged him along as they went up two flights of steps and entered a large landing area with crates and barrels, a set of large wooden doors ahead. When the huge samurai pushed the doors open, he came up short.

The failed mage could barely see through the press of warriors, but what he could make out was a large circle of forty or so people, all sitting with a single oni man at the center, a bright luminescent white light enveloping them all and getting brighter fast!

The windows had been covered with various things to prevent the light from escaping before.

" _Nande kore wa?!_ "

The Masked Demon's _katana_ was naked in an instant. "AFTER THEM!" he roared.

" _Lawrence, Quick!_ "

The failed mage recognized that voice. It was Sakura! Muji and his warriors charged forward.

Lawrence didn't think. He reacted.

He pulled as much energy as he could as fast as he could and launched two fireballs at the floor to either side of himself. They exploded with a crack and the two warriors there jumped for cover.

Flames spread.

Lawrence rushed forward, launching fireballs at the floor as the confused group of samurai in front of him turned to address their surprise attacker.

Lawrence bowled past them, knocking one on his back as the Masked Demon took a swipe at his head.

The failed mage narrowly missed the blade as it snipped the end of his pulled back hair. He couldn't see anything as he ran toward the press of frightened people bathed in white light.

He jumped, landing between the bodies in heap.

## The Masked Demon

_Katana_ in hand, Muji stopped short as the crowd of fearful people suddenly vanished with the light.

What was left behind was an intricate scrawl of red runes across the wooden floor forming a large circle. Blood.

Behind him, flames spread and smoldered, smoke filling the space. His opponent had magical talent.

_And this,_ he thought, looked back to the runes. _Also magic then,_ he told himself, his face deadpan. It was all he could do not to shred every object in the room with his razor sharp blade.

"Where are they, Muji- _sama_?"

He gave no explanation. "They're gone."

The Masked Demon had lost the prisoners. Sakuraichi would be very displeased. He would offer to take his own life for this grievous failure as soon as they got back.

He watched as enemy warriors poured into the northern grounds, their bodies tiny silhouettes in the night, save for the burning orange glow of the fires caused by the _ryu no me_ explosions.

"It is time to leave," he said, sheathing his _katana_ with a smooth motion. " _Ike!_ " The general's men bowed to the order, quickly falling into step with him.

## The Failed Mage

Someone screamed. No. They were all screaming. Several pairs of feet and slippers pummeled Lawrence. Utterly panicked, the fools were stepping _on top of him_ in their haste to get away. "Gah!" he cried out as a barefoot heel landed on his hand.

They probably thought he was one of the attacking samurai.

"He's not one of them! He's not one of them!" a woman was screaming a command. It was Sakura, and she wasn't very loud.

"Get out of the way!"

It was Tomiichi.

The failed mage had known instantly when Sakura called out to him that magic was about to begin, and it had. Now he lay on the floor, a heaping mess of aching muscles. The crowd was beginning to calm down. Fortunately, but Lawrence didn't much care at the moment.

"Lawrence!" she called in her accent, sounding like, " _Ro-rensu._ " __ Her hands rested atop his shoulder and arm. "Lawrence, are you all right?"

He opened his eyes to find her leaning over him, looking into his face with concern. "I'm..."

He almost jerked back at the proximity between them. He stared for a moment, surprised that she had rushed to him. It was quite painful to be trampled by more than one person.

Now he didn't care.

"I'm quite well, Nakamura- _san_."

She blinked, probably realizing she had called him by his name. Twice just then, rather than addressing him more formally. It was probably better that he addressed her more properly, especially now that her family was watching.

With her help, and that of Tomiichi, he sat up, wincing from the pain of being walked all over.

"Let me help you."

"No," he said quickly, "don't use your—"

She didn't listen.

Instantly he could feel the healing effects of her magic, the tingling sensation, a slight pain seeping through his bones and muscles.

She gasped, taking her hands from his body.

_Is it painful for her?_

"Are you all right?"

She smiled. "I'm quite well." She looked up, and Lawrence found what had distracted her. It was Ishi.

He nodded. "Are you well, boy?"

The quiet young lad nodded. "You came for us?"

"Yes, I came for you." He couldn't help but feel embarrassed. "Are you all right?"

"You already asked me that, master Lawrence."

"I did, didn't I? So... 'master'?"

Ishi shrugged.

"You young fool," Lawrence said, getting up off the ground. Sakura was quick to help him. Her parents stepped forward.

"So," Hitomo said. "You survived a dual with General Muji, the Masked Demon!"

"I got lucky."

Lawrence looked about, still dumbfounded as the rest of them. They were somewhere else. It looked like a large raised platform for performing festival plays and other celebrations. There were lanterns, but darkened.

"Everyone thought you wouldn't make it," Tomiichi said. "Well, everyone except Sakura."

"Actually," Ishi said, "she wanted to rescue you, so she thought you were finished as well."

" _Arigatou,_ " she said, thanking the boy with a subtle roll of her eyes.

"Rescue me?" He couldn't help but smile. He bowed slightly and smiled at the dancer. "Thank you."

"Of course." She said the words almost indifferently. "You _were_ on your way to rescue us, weren't you?"

"Where are we?" Hitomo asked, looking around.

It was dark outside, but a glow of blue morning sunlight was beginning to make the early morning known as birds were also beginning to chirp.

The group was made up of about forty or so people. Some of them were dancers or drummers from the palace performances, others were noble born, and some were simply just servants. Everyone was fanning out, talking to one another, wondering what to do next. There was a definite air of apprehension and confusion. Some were loud, while others were quiet, simply relieved.

"Anywhere away from where we just were is fine for me," Tomiichi said.

"And me," Yukio said. Sakura's mother held her younger daughter with a protective arm around her shoulder.

One of the other dancers walked to their tiny group. She looked angry, and she gestured with her arms, making her frustration evidentially known. "So where are we now?"

There was another dancer and a drummer. They came forward as well, but neither of them said anything.

"That's a good question," Lawrence said. "We should probably get out of the city."

"I agree," Hitomo said.

"I still can't believe _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi is a traitor," Tomiichi said, rubbing his forehead.

"How do you know that?" Lawrence asked.

"He held us prisoner."

"Are you certain of this? Perhaps they were protecting you from the enemy?" He didn't quite believe it himself, but something wasn't making sense here.

"Who are you people?"

Everyone looked toward the voice. It was an old scowling woman and two young boys awake for what was probably the morning chores.

"Worry not..." Lawrence turned. Found a red-skinned oni with long curving horns on his head. "I simply... brought them here using the artifice of magic. No need to worry."

"We just escaped," one of the other dancers said. She seemed shaken at the recent ordeal. Unsurprising.

"It's all right, Yumi," Sakura said, going to her side. She smiled at the other woman.

"Do you need to sit, Yumiko?" the other dancer asked. She seemed upset.

The girl nodded and they moved away. Everyone was still shaken, though they seemed to expect that they would be somewhere else, all save for the local townsfolk, who were beginning to gather in small knots. Lawrence could hardly make them out in the early morning light.

Chickens clucked about as a distant rooster made its morning call to arms. Lawrence addressed the oni. "My name is Lawrence Cazwick." He put out a hand.

The oni looked at him for a moment, then clasped his outstretched arm. "Hiun Yaed. It is... nice to meet you, Lawrence."

"Do you think you can get us out of the city gates?"

He shook his head. "I... may be able to do the Movement one more time... but... I would need to rest for a time. And I would need considerable resources."

"What kind of resources?"

"Mmm... crystals, I would say..."

"Crystals?" Tomiichi asked.

"Magical crystals," Lawrence said, answering their curiosity. "They're used to store and transfer magical energy."

"Yes," Hiun said. "That is... correct."

"I can get you crystals."

Everyone turned to regard Ishi.

He stood there like he was asking to deliver a war correspondence, which he had done for Lawrence many times before. "Take me to the place," he continued, "and I can get some for you, yeah?"

"No," Lawrence said. "Ignore him."

"I can do it!"

He can be so persistent sometimes...

He pointed a warning finger at the boy. The last time Lawrence did this, he had to follow through. He did so by leaving Ishi out to sleep in the cold with the soldiers after the boy had accidentally burnt his tent to cinders.

The boy sighed and threw up his arms. He kicking his feet as he walked away. "Now," Lawrence said, "where were we?"

"You... were asking me if I could get you out of the city?" The way the Hiun said it, with that odd rise of intonation made it sound like not only a question, but a confused one.

"We have to get to the harbor," Hitomo said.

Tomiichi nodded. "It's the only safe way out."

"Are there ships there?" Lawrence asked.

"Yes!" Sakura said. It's perfect. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She was still wearing her white kimono from last night, and it was covered with dried blood. "We have our own ship! Even if all the others are taken, ours should still be there. Well, its Umo's... _Was_ Umo's."

"Why would it still be there?" Lawrence asked as he noted her sudden change in temperament. _This Umo must have meant something to her,_ he thought. _Was that his blood on her?_

"Because," she said, "the ship isn't in the main harbor. It's off the peninsula to the west. No one uses it to moor their ships."

Sakura's mother stirred, looking doubtful. It was summer, but the early morning was quite chilly. She was holding Yoko close to herself to keep warm as Hitomo put an arm around her.

The towns people certainly didn't want to help a group of strangers this large. Not when they were already frightened. The main city was visible from where they were in the suburban outskirts atop the foothills. Most of the city was visible, and the harbor beyond, out of sight because of the ridge at the center of the city which came up after a valley, the river cutting in between the two higher landforms.

"If we make for your ship," Lawrence said, "we should avoid the inner city. That's where your possible traitor _daimyō_ is—what was his name?"

"Sakuraichi," Hiun said. "But... he's not our only concern. And neither is getting to this ship."

The failed mage nodded, deciding that it was best to assume this Sakuraichi and his Masked Demon were indeed traitors. At least for now.

Tomiichi was surveying the smoke and fires still burning across Yukai City. Most of them were situated near the palace "If only the army were here," he muttered. "This attack is so precise. It's hard to grasp. But we have other concerns.

"What other concerns do you mean?"

"Why... the Princess, of course."

Who?!

He frowned, glanced toward the others. Evidently they were just as surprised and confused as he was. "The Princess?"

Hiun raised a quizzical eyebrow. There was enough light to see that much now, as the horizon was beginning to brighten. The sun would crest it very soon. "...Yes." He then gestured over to someone.

Lawrence and the others glanced in that direction, but she was too hard for any of them to make out properly in the early morning darkness.

"Why hasn't anyone said anything yet?" Sakura asked.

"This idea that the Princess has been with us the entire time is preposterous," Yukio hissed. "Absolutely preposterous."

"But..." Hiun said, "is... it?"

"Yes!"

"Per...haps she does not want to be... known," he said stoically. "Perhaps... I have... assisted her."

"What," Sakura said, "you mean with... with magic?"

Hiun reached up to caress one of his horns and smiled. "In... deed."

The dancer seemed elated at the prospect.

The failed mage nodded. "So we make for the other side of the peninsula for this ship. What is she called?"

" _The Ikaima Dancing Fan_ , of course."

"All right," Lawrence said. "We make for the peninsula. I suggest we skirt these foothills and pass through the Western Temple," he pointed. It wasn't very visible atop the mountain. He felt familiar enough with the structure for it to be a reliable landmark, because he had seen it in a painting on a shop wall.

"I agree," Tomiichi said. "Crossing through the mountains in the west would take too long. It would certainly be safer, but we do not have the supplies."

"We could take what we need?" Hitomo suggested quietly to the utter shock of Yukio.

She gaped at his suggestion. "And my husband... a samurai. I will not hear of such things!"

The old man breathed in deeply, then let his breath out nice and slow. It seemed his idea of honor was a little bit different from that of his wife's.

"Let us skirt the foothills," Hiun said, not taking an exceedingly long time to get the words out, as he usually did. He seemed determined at the prospect.

"We can rest at the temple if we have to," Lawrence said.

_I need to reveal myself to the Princess,_ he thought. _There's sure to be a lot of coin in it for whoever rescues her. Her father would be well pleased. A mage come to aid the royal Princess._

"Then we should go now," Sakura said, turning to glance at the group.

"I agree," Lawrence said.

"Hmm... yes," Hiun said. "Indeed. Let us... depart for the temple. Immediately."

## The Masked Demon

The Masked Demon could think of nothing more than to end his own life. For his utter failure to secure their hostages. The Princess had been among them. With the Emperor not in their immediate grasp, despite having the vast majority of Sakuraichi's forces surrounding him, she was a valuable hostage. Indeed, now the Emperor would soon know that it was _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi who had hired the foreigner. That... _hurg_ assassin.

On one knee, he held himself like a statue in obeisance to his lord _daimyō_. He would obey any order given, even the one to end his own life.

_Gladly,_ he thought, _for I cannot stand my shame._

Without raising his head, he listened as lord Sakuraichi spoke. He did so without turning around. "It is so, Muji. You have failed me. And perhaps you should pay the consequences of your actions. You have injured your honor in my eyes."

He could barely stand to hear the words.

_It doesn't even have to be a sword. I'll hurl myself off a cliff,_ he thought. _Or I will kamikaze._

The _daimyō_ turned around to face the shamed samurai. He could hear his lord's boots moving in the right way. As a highly skilled warrior, his sense of hearing was also acute.

"Look at me, Muji. I said _look at me._ "

The Masked Demon, no longer masked, looked upon his _daimyō_. "I will obey any command, my lord!"

"I do not doubt this. And," he said, his words about to pronounce ultimate judgment. "I command you to live."

"What?"

"You will not die, Muji," Ujio said. "There will be no _seppuku_ for you."

"But, my lord... I have failed you."

"Yes."

"I must die—"

"No, you must live and regain your honor another way."

"But, I—"

"Will go on fighting, Muji. You must. Had my plans gone smoothly this night, I may have asked you to die. But not tonight. I need you. Mikuma needs you."

"I..."

What can I say?

"I... will do as you say, my lord _daimyō_!" His words came out in a deep growl, a promise. " _I will not fail you!_ "

# Chapter Six—The Dancer and the Mage

## The Dancer

"...there's a ship we can take out of the city," Lawrence was saying as the group of forty or so people listened. Some of them seemed to perk up at the idea of leaving Yukai City.

_The boat can't take them all,_ she thought, becoming increasingly worried about the problem. Their ranks had already swelled by a few families, a dozen or so people who wanted out of the city as soon as possible. To the east, the orange glow of the fires were still visible.

She watched Lawrence as he continued to speak from atop the raised platform. There was more light now, so she could make out his features in the yellow glow of the morning sun beginning to peak over the mountaintops.

She smiled, as he gave instructions to the group on what was to happen, why they were doing it, and where they were to end up. He was a leader who cared about others, not just a selfish mercenary out for coin. She had known from the moment he had offered to help save Yoko that he was a man of honor, even if he pretended not to be. As he addressed the group, his eyes roved over the people standing there, until they came to her. He smiled, and she instantly blushed. Yukio turned to cast a suspicious look in her direction which didn't help.

"Ah," Kaiya said from beside her. "Now I understand why you didn't want to say anything back at the palace."

"He's so..."

"What?" Sakura asked of Yumiko, who was beginning to utter a doubtful comment.

"He's so... wonderful," she said.

"Oh, be quiet, Yumi," Kaiya ordered playfully. She turned to Sakura. "I'll be watching, little flower."

"Watching what?"

"You know..."

She was about to reply to the other dancer but was distracted when Lawrence said, loud enough for the whole group to hear, "All right! Let's get going!"

He jumped off the platform and started walking. The group shuffled about, moving to follow.

## The Sword of a Thousand Suns

The First Spear, Nori Hukama, legendary general and lord _daimyō_ of Ujiwara Karimato walked into the palace throne room. Ujiwara bowed to his aging master.

If not for the intentional shaving of the top of his head, Hukama would have been balding. His grey hair was tied into a tight topknot, his eyes thin and his face weathered. Had he been fishing on the side of a river bank, no one would suspect that he was probably the greatest general in the land.

That was why he was sometimes called the Fisherman. He wore no armor, even now, and his sandals were nothing more than the fibrous _waraji_ he had fashioned himself.

Hukama was an austere man. It was this that bellied his great ambition. Ambitions Ujiwara shared. In a fashion. The old _daimyō_ grunted in satisfaction as he laid a hand on the arm rest of the royal throne before turning to seat himself. Then the general took pause, clearly admiring the chair before Ujiwara interrupted him.

"My lord," he said. "The palace is ours. The last of _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi's samurai were fleeing by the time you stepped into the palace grounds.

"And Emperor Kurosawa?"

"Fled," Ujiwara said, "along with most of Sakuraichi's forces. "I suspect he still has a few thousand samurai in the area, but they're laying low. My scouts have also spotting ninja through-out the city."

Without looking at him, Hukama nodded. "You have done well. With the Emperor fleeing the palace, he will no doubt attempt to go to the temple. That position will afford him an unassailable advantage in combat."

"He will not abandon that position lightly."

"No," Hukama said. "He will not. He will try to get word out of the city so that his armies may return from the wars they fight to rescue him from his entrapment. We cannot allow that to happen."

"I have hundreds of scouts and ninja patrolling the streets and countryside to prevent such an occurrence, my lord. My only concern is Sakuraichi's forces still scattered, hidden within the city."

"You have more than enough samurai at your disposal," Hukama said. He nodded, evidentially satisfied, though he maintained his characteristic austere stoicism. "Make certain he does not succeed. Sakuraichi is not a man to be underestimated."

Ujiwara moved to address the throne properly. "He will not succeed, my lord."

"I have confidence in you, Ujiwara. Nevertheless, we will try to uproot Emperor Kurosawa from his position at the temple. If he abandons that high ground he will undoubtedly flee for the harbor to escape. I have lady Markovila and a force of my best samurai awaiting for such an occurrence. We are two steps ahead of him. Let us not lose any one of our advantages."

Ujiwara nodded, a feeling of uncertainty rising in him.

"Do you wish to ask me something?"

"Yes, my lord, if I may?"

The _daimyō_ nodded.

"You are the most honorable _daimyō_ of them all and the most intelligent man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing—"

"And you are the best swordsman I have had the pleasure of knowing, Ujiwara," the _daimyō_ said curtly. "You know I don't like platitudes. Say what it is you wish to say."

If not a direct disciple of the _daimyō_ , Ujiwara would have been a samurai, and though he was not, he was of the samurai class. "It's this foreign witch, my lord. She worships dark gods, her magic is vile. And that—that creature she keeps—this skulking cretin that calls himself the _Spider_. Can we trust them?"

Hukama got up off the throne, walked past Ujiwara with his hands clasped behind himself. "Lady Markovila is a woman of means," he said. "She cannot be trusted. But... she has found herself lacking those means. If anything, we can trust her to do as she says, for if she betrays me, she betrays her chances at revival, and she does not wish to find herself a beggarly woman."

_He's completely right,_ Ujiwara thought. _His logic is sound, so why do I feel this way?_

Ujiwara's eyes jerked up as, quite unexpectedly, the _daimyō_ put a palm over his shoulder. "I too find these... characters quite unsavory," he said. "But surely as the Sword of a Thousand Suns, you know that it is not the blade that brings you honor, but the victories you attain. Am I not correct?"

" _Hai._ "

The _daimyō_ nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible smile visible. "This victory will bring us great honor, Ujiwara."

"Of course. You are indeed correct, as you ever are, _sensei._ "

Now he did smile. "Yes. Now go, Ujiwara. Stop Sakuraichi from warning Kurosawa's generals of what is happening here in the city."

" _Hai!_ " Ujiwara cried. He gave a bow to his _daimyō_ before leaving the throne chamber.

Now it was time to begin rooting out unaccounted for forces Sakuraichi had hidden in the city.

## The Dancer

Her mother certainly didn't care for him.

_But she hates them all anyway,_ Sakura thought. _Always so suspicious, thinking the worst of any man that comes within a league of me or Yoko._

It was a miracle she had become a performer in the _Ikaima Dancing Fans_ , but Yukio had known Umo for a long time before that, and he had promised he would look out for her. At least, that's what Sakura thought. She never knew for certain.

Oh poor Umo.

The old troupe master didn't deserve to die, not like that. Just then Kaiya put an arm around her as they walked, the rest of the group ahead and behind them. The ground was rough because they stayed off the roads, kept to the forest as they skirted the hills, making their way to the Western Temple.

"Thinking about Umo?" she asked.

She nodded. "How did you know?"

"Me too. I can see it on your face."

"I just can't believe it, Kaiya."

"I know. I know." They walked for a time in silence. The day was so hot Sakura wanted to disrobe, but of course she could not. But her heavy kimono for last night's performance was too warm for such a day. She needed something lighter.

"Did I ever tell you that story when Umo slipped during the middle of a performance?" Kaiya asked, a note of cheer in her voice. Her cheeks were pink from the hiking. She was so beautiful. More so than Sakura ever could be. Even her hair looked good right now, despite everything.

"No, I've never heard about it," she said.

"Well, you know how he hated in when anyone ate backstage?"

"Yes," Sakura said, remembering one time when he had barked at her to leave because he caught her with a bowl of rice. _Rice!_ As if that ever made a mess.

"One day," she said impressing upon Sakura a severity with an emphasis on the words, "Hotoka—do you remember Hotoka? No, I don't think you were with us then. Anyway, one day Hotoka was eating a bowl of _soba_ noodles between shows—this was when Umo still performed a thousand years ago."

They both laughed. "I never saw him perform, but I had heard that he used to."

"It was just before you joined. In fact, the reason he asked that you join was to fill a vacancy. Don't you remember that it was supposed to be for only one performance?"

"I do."

"We're getting side tracked."

" _Arigatou_ ," she said in apology.

"Hotoka was eating _soba_ , and he dropped his bowl in the middle of the stage. _On the main stage right before a showing!_ "

"What?!" Sakura was shocked. "What happened next? Did it get cleaned up?"

"No, because he had run onto the main stage while the curtain was drown to get his kimono just before it was to begin."

'Oh no..."

"Oh yes!"

"So what happened?"

"Well, we went out to perform! What do you think happened?"

"Umo slipped."

Kaiya laughed. "Yes, but before that, half of us had to dodge or move around that bowl in the middle of the performance. Numi had tried to warn Umo because he hadn't seen, but what can you do in the middle of the dance? Not only did he slip, right there at the beginning, but he kept glaring at Hotoka every chance he got whenever the audience couldn't see!"

Sakura couldn't help but laugh. They laughed together, getting strange stares from the people around them. They were probably wondering how Sakurai and Kaiya could be so uplifted during such a crisis, when their Emperor and the royal family were on the run, when an enemy was in the capital, killing people and burning buildings.

Sakura's own kimono was covered in dried blood.

She knew what Kaiya was doing. And Sakura let her do it. She could be so bossy and annoying at times, but she really was the best friend she had ever had.

"Thank you, Kaiya."

The other young dancer rubbed her shoulder and smiled. "You know, Umo was a surly old samurai. It was a good way to go."

Sakura didn't understand.

"In service to one's friends and Emperor," Kaiya said. "Umo would never let _anything_ happen to any of us if he could help it, but especially you. I think he and your mother Yukio were old friends, weren't they?"

"Yes."

Kaiya nodded, and they fell silent for a few moments. Finally, she said, "It was Hotoka's place you filled. Did you know that, little flower? All because of a bowl of hot _soba_."

She always called Sakura that. Little flower. She didn't know if it was simply a play on her name that Kaiya liked to use, or if she thought of herself like Sakura's older sister. _Maybe it's a little of both._ "Are you teasing me, now?"

Kaiya tapped her on the shoulder warningly. "Look out."

Sakura glanced about. "What is it?"

Kaiya's eyes widened as she hissed, "Don't act like that, silly girl. Gods, he's coming over here!"

She instantly spotted him as he made his way past the line of people going the opposite direction. "Oh."

"That's right," Kaiya said, then licked her thumb before applying it to Sakura's face to wipe a smudge. "Now don't get stupid."

Sakura turned to address Kaiya, who was quickly falling back behind her. "Stupid?"

But Kaiya didn't answer as she quickly busied herself with another person, making some outrageously empty conversation which sounded only half plausible.

"Are you all right, Nakamura- _san_?"

"I'm fine!"

Why is my heart dancing?

"You seem somewhat flustered."

"I'm not flustered," she said. "So what is it you wanted?"— _Idiot—_ "I mean, I was—I mean is there something you would like to talk to me about?"

"I just wanted to know if you would like something else to wear?"

What?!

"To wear?"

He shrugged and gestured toward her kimono. "It's a bit hot for that, and it's covered in blood. I just thought you might like something else to wear."

There was something in his hands. It was a folded kimono. She felt like such a fool. Why was she acting so silly? She hadn't felt this way before. She tried to glance about surreptitiously.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I suppose I am a bit bothered." She gestured with her hand, indicating everything that had happened since last night.

"I understand."

He was walking beside her now. He gestured for her to take the kimono. It was black silk and very fancy. "This is very thoughtful of you. Where did you get it?"

"It belongs—well, _belonged_ to one of the refugee women," he said. "She found herself carrying far too many items than she or her husband could haul, so I bought it off her."

"Off her?"

"Umm, well it's a figure of speech," he said, sounding slightly embarrassed. "Bad interpretation?"

_That's right,_ she thought. _This isn't his mother language._

She had almost forgotten his accent. "A little," she said, chuckling.

He laughed. "I'm sorry."

"It's quite all right," she said. "So, you bought it from her?"

"She was making a bit of a fuss about having to leave things behind," he said, shrugging, "so I offered to lessen her sense of loss.

"That was very kind of you to do that for her."

"I didn't do it for her."

They looked at one another, their gazes lingering for just a little too long. Now Sakura felt extremely nervous. She wasn't used to talking to men who had an interest in her.

He's interested, isn't he?

What made this difficult was that she couldn't deny her interest in him either. It was so... Her mother would not be pleased.

"Gods..."

"What's that?"

"Sorry, nothing," she said hastily. "These rocks! I keep tripping!"

"You don't have the proper shoes," he said. "Your sandals keep falling off."

"I know."

"We'll get you something better to wear when we get to the temple."

"Thank you," she said. "You haven't spent _all_ your money on this, I presume?" She gestured to the kimono.

His mouth quirked into a wry smile of amusement. "Not quite all of it," he said, emphasizing the words, which made her laugh. She didn't know why, but anything he said that was meant to be funny, she wanted to laugh at right now.

"So, _Kazu-wikku-san_ —I'm sorry, did I say your name wrong?"

"No, no," he said quickly. "Quite right."

She could see his bemusement at her pronunciation of his foreign name. "It's my accent on your name?"

"It's a little hard to get used to is all."

"I see."

Suddenly he moved ahead of her, jumped up a cleft in the hill. He turned and offered the woman in front of them a hand. She was elderly and needed the assistance. She took his hand, but they were having trouble, so Sakura assisted from below until the woman was up. She was healthy and a good walker, keeping up with them, but the incline—

This incline is steep!

She found the mage's hand thrust in front of her. "Take my hand."

"Thank you." She took his hand and he hauled her up with ease. Perhaps a little too easily, because he slipped, and they both yelped as he fell on his back, she on top of him.

"This seems to be happening a lot."

"Oh gods! I'm so"—she moved to get off of him—"I'm so sorry." She got up hastily, brushing dried grass and thistles off her blood-stained kimono.

"It's quite all right," he said, getting up with a grunt. He glanced below the cleft to see a man and woman staring at them, their three kids watching. The parents had evident disapproval on their faces.

He bent down, quite hastily, to pick up the black kimono. He brushed it off and handed it to her. She took it and he took a step back, clearly creating more distance between them.

He must think I'm loose! Gods, I can't believe this.

"I really am sorry."

"It's my fault entirely," he said, gesturing emphatically. He turned to the family. "Come, let me help you up." He did so under the watchful gazes of both the mother and father. They both glanced at her, their eyes disapproving.

She felt so embarrassed. She was probably as red as an apple. So stupid. She was only thankful her parents hadn't seen that. The first time was bad enough, but there really was no other way in the limited amount of time she had. He was dying, after all and there was no room to get around him with Tomii and father holding him down on either side!

She wanted to scream, stamp and slap herself like the idiot she was. _Where's Kaiya? Did she see this?_

She looked about, but saw the other woman nowhere in sight among the people hiking. Some of them were wearing luxury garments, clearly rich or highborn. They had been at the performance. They recognized her, but paid her little head. They were all afraid for what would or could happen next.

"So," he said, gesturing to the trail and the line of people, "what was it you wanted to ask me?"

He was pretending like their little ordeal just now hadn't happened. She was grateful. What was it they called this in the west? Chivalry or something? Yes, Sakura had heard of it before. She quite liked this chivalry, though she didn't quite understand it completely.

"Yes," she said, "deciding to play along. "Yes there was, that is if you don't mind?"

The mage glanced toward the trail, stepped over a fallen bough, long dead after breaking from the tree overhead. At least there was plenty of shade, but it was very, very hot.

"Of course," he said. "Please ask."

## The Dancer

Sakura wiped at the sweat on her brow as she carried on, her heavy kimono not helping in the least. She couldn't wait to slip out of this one, with its blood stains, and into the much lighter, finer silk one which wouldn't keep her so hot.

_A bath first would be nice,_ she thought, instantly feeling guilty that she wanted to bathe when people in the city were being killed or forced to flee their homes.

She turned to the mage as they hiked on, the terrain beginning to become a little more hilly. She was beginning to breathe a little harder now. "I would like to know more about you, Lawrence."

They hiked on for a few moments getting past some of the harder terrain, the mage evidentially deciding where to start. Finally he said, "Before the war I was supposed to marry Princess Miho."

She couldn't help but flinch at the statement. "What? Princes Miho? Of Omosaku?"

"The same."

"How is that possible?"

"I was on very good terms with the royal family," the mage said. "Their holdings had been under siege by Xai Qi for some time. They found me useful and loyal, so they bestowed boons upon me."

"The Princess? But you aren't of royal blood."

He smiled to himself.

Impossible!

"Are you? Wait, did you say they _had been_ under siege?"

"Yes I did," he said. "We fought our last battle just days ago. That's why we came to Mikuma. Ishi and I were fleeing capture."

"Gods," she said. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"Word about it should be spreading by now. If it were not for what's happening here, I have no doubt you too would know."

"Still..." she said. "It's a shock. Omosaku has been resisting Xai Qi for years. And I know they were getting close to capitulation—everyone has, but it's still hard to believe when you actually hear about it."

"I know."

"And you lived it."

He nodded.

"What are you going to do now?"

He stepped over a log in front of her. "Here," he said, offering his hand. It was hot and sweaty, the calluses there hard and many. They were the hands of a swordsman.

He lifted and she was able to get better purchase on the tall log. After she crossed it, he said, "I suspect that I will begin renewing my fortune. When this"—he gestured widely to indicate everything that had happened since last night—"when this is all over with."

"Will you move on?"

"Perhaps," he said. "If things here go poorly, which they probably will." He glanced at her suddenly. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," she said. "You don't need to cover the reality of our situation here."

She thought about that for a moment. She hadn't had time to take stock of what would happen should what he described come to pass. Where would they go? The Nakamura family wasn't poor by any means. They were a noble samurai family.

My brother and father... They won't have masters. They will be rōnin.

She thought of him as she thought of the mercenary mage hiking beside her. He too was breathing more heavily, though not as heavily as she was.

"Do you need to rest?" he asked.

The dancer glanced toward him. She did need to rest, but if old women could hike this trail, then so could she, kimono or not. It being a costume for her performance, she thought it should have been light and breezy, but then, a performance was much shorter than a trek through the hills in the middle of the summer time.

"Are you all right?"

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I was thinking. I'm fine. I can go on."

"Are you certain? You look like you need to catch your breath."

She smiled, nodded and reassured him that she could indeed continue. "I was just thinking about what would happen if Yukai City was taken by this invader."

He nodded.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I think that Emperor Kurosawa will retreat to a safe place and wage a war of attrition," he said. "If he does that, it will be long and it will be bloody."

"A good time for mercenary work," she said out loud. It was more of a thought that she uttered verbally, and so she was slightly started when he answered her.

"Indeed," he said. "Or, Mikuma becomes part of whatever nation has attacked her."

"We still don't know?"

He shook his head. "This attack was well timed, it seems."

She nodded, feeling a deep-seated fear in her belly. It was impossible to know what might happen. Her father was an old samurai, practically retired, though samurai never truly retired.

_He might take up his sword in service again,_ she thought. _They could both be killed, leaving mother and us alone._

She could hardly bear the thought of that. Not because they wouldn't be able to provide for themselves. The _Ikaima Dancing Fans_ was practically renowned. She could easily get work in another troupe.

She simply did not want to lose her father and brother in a war. She had already lost Umo. Mother seemed cold about that, but Sakura knew she was holding in her anguish. Perhaps it was inappropriate to be too broken up about it? Had Umo been a suitor to her in the past? She didn't know.

Sakura practically blurted out her next question, having not thought about it at all. "Would you work for _them_?"

"No," he said quickly.

Was he lying? "You answer quickly, _Kazu-wikku-san_."

"Because I knew you would ask me this question."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"Are you lying to me?" She stopped, and he stopped too. He turned to meet her eyes, and she studied his, looking for the sign of a lie as he answered.

"When one works for cloak and dagger campaigns utilizing treachery as a method of attack, it builds a reputation," he said, "one I do not care for. For all their talk of honor in this part of the world, treachery is still ever present."

"Is it not so in your own part of the world?"

He nodded. "It is. Honor has softened the face of war in many ways, but it hasn't eliminated the harsh realities it brings—and never will."

She watched him, both of them completely silent as they were passed by other travellers in the group.

_I couldn't see any lie there,_ she told herself, _and everything he's done up to this point has spoken of a man of honor._

Because of that, she chose to trust him. "I believe you."

He nodded, a subtle smile coming to his otherwise serious expression. "Thank you."

"Now what do you say we help these people?"

"I'm here to help _you_ , Sakura," he said, looking into her eyes. "You and your family, should you have me?"

It was not lost on her that his statement bespoke of something. She couldn't help but smile then. "Very well. I accept your offer."

Ho nodded somberly, and they continued hiking together as she wondered how she would get her mother to look favorably on Lawrence.

He being noble born would help a great deal.

## The Emperor

Emperor Hiroto Kurosawa sat cross-legged on a silk mat, his generals sitting likewise in a semi-circle in front of him. In the large chamber there were guards standing still as statues among the orange-red pillars. The double doors at the mouth of the temple were open, his royal pinions flying in the morning wind beside Sakuraichi's.

Thank the gods we were able to secure the Western Temple.

Despite his thought, he felt a pit in his stomach. Noriko, his only daughter, was missing. She had disappeared during the attack on the palace. Was she alive? Dead? A hostage of his enemies?

He hated not knowing more than anything.

As Emperor, Hiroto would never admit it openly, but he was deeply afraid for the first time in his life. It wasn't an immediate fear or the quick terror before death, but a lingering, deep-seated fear. A fear for his son and daughter. A fear that _he_ would be the ruler who would lose Mikuma, a royal empire and dynasty that had—up to this point—lasted for over a thousand years.

Despite his fear, he remained placid on the outside, as unemotional as possible. "Tell me," he said. "What is our situation, General Koto?"

"Not good, Your Royal Highness. We took the temple easily, but the enemy now surrounds us on all sides. They will outlast us here."

"What is your suggestion?"

"We make for the harbor, Highness," General Koto said. "It is lightly defended."

He wants me to run away? Me?

"Flee?!" Hiroto spat, losing his composure for the first time since yesterday evening. "Let an empire and dynasty that has stood for generations fall away to this—this treacherous predator?!"

General Koto flinched, his eyes becoming downcast as he avoided the fire in his ruler's eyes. Finished with Koto, Emperor Hiroto turned to his other three "generals," all of them barely past boyhood.

"I am not looking for a solution of escape! The next one of you to suggest such a thing will be thrown from the temple steps!"

There was a very long silence as Hiroto waited for one of his generals to offer something worthwhile. They were his men, young, unblooded, unseasoned military leaders. And while these men and his Guard belonged to his house, the army outside guarding the temple and the approach belonged to _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi, who had stayed behind with a detachment to find out who had attacked them. He and his General Muji.

He still hasn't returned! Where is he?

As it was, one of Sakuraichi's captains here at the temple would probably make a better leader than these soft whelps. Sakuraichi- _sama's_ army was seasoned, every one of its leaders and all of his samurai were veteran warriors of half a dozen battles.

The Emperor felt a fool. An utter fool. Why had he trusted the words of his advisors and courtesans? It had been believed that there was no longer any need for hardened generals, and so those battle-tested _daimyōs_ were moved away from court to places where they could no longer influence the direction of the empire in militaristic ways.

_And where is my shōgun? Where is Souji-sama?_ Were they all gone? Had they all been removed? _All but Sakuraichi,_ Hiroto thought. _And only because..._

It was in the royal palace. All the _daimyō_ s had obeyed their royal emperor without question, but upon dismissal, _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi had made a scene. Hiroto had been unable to carry through. Today for the first time, Emperor Hiroto Kurosawa knew that he was a fool—that Sakuraichi and the other like- _daimyō_ s of his empire were the real men of honor who kept his enemies at bay, not these pampered children, afforded positions of power because they were born into them, or appointed the positions based on bureaucracy of "fairness." Such nonsense.

He saw that now. But it was too late. Far, far too late. The leadership of Sakuraichi's army he could depend upon. He felt this. These men become leaders because they had the skills, and had survived long enough to do so, attaining the honor and experience needed for true sovereign leadership. A harsh leadership, but a strong.

The Emperor felt suddenly tired. Utterly exhausted. _We have abandoned our ways._

By now Hiroto was all but snarling as finally one of them spoke up. It was General, Momata. The mustache on his upper lip barely a wisp. The sight annoyed him.

"Your Royal Highness," he said, swallowing. "we must hold the enemy at bay while maintaining the high ground here at the temple. As we do so, we must get word out to your armies in the south. We _need_ reinforcements!"

"We are surrounded," Muma added. "We cannot get word out."

"My _daimyō_ is still out in the city," Hiroto said. " _He_ will get a message out, or he will die trying!"

It must have not been lost on the three generals there, all newly appointed _daimyōs_ of various small provinces, that the Emperor had just called Sakuraichi " _his_ _daimyō_ ," when in fact, all the _daimyō_ s of the Mikuma Empire were the Emperor's sworn servants.

Hiroto's attention shifted from his generals toward the doors where the morning light was coming. He recognized his son, Masaru, flanked by his entourage. He wasn't a tall man, but his shadow stretched far into the hall because of the position of the sun, his silhouette a black shape in the golden morning sunlight.

"Father!" he said, his pace quickening. "It's the enemy."

"Yes?"

"They're attacking!"

"What?" Koto barked. "But that's impossible. Attacking our position is suicide."

"Tell that to them," Masaru said.

Hiroto got up off his silk mat, his personal guards detaching themselves from the long line of bodyguards within the hall. They followed as Hiroto lead the way outside, his heart beating fast. He wished it would stop.

They all depend upon me. The Empire depends upon me—and I do not know what to do!

As they exited the temple through the main doors, they came out onto a wide expanse paved with cobblestones. The Emperor was quick to rush toward the precipice to see what was happening.

It was as his son had said. The enemy was surrounding the plateau. There would be no escape now. The Mikuma Emperor would fight, and win, or he would lose and his empire would be annexed to another power.

He glanced back toward the mountains, wondering for a moment if they could retreat, but the cliffs were too rocky, too steep to climb. Only an expert mountaineer could make that climb.

"What do we do?" Masaru asked.

Hiroto frowned. "The only thing we can do. We fight, and pray to the gods that Sakuraichi gets word to my armies outside of Mikuma.

## The White Feather

Besides herself, the ninja were the only ones with the skill who could accompany her on this mission.

As Sakuraichi and his forces staged skirmish hit and run attacks on the enemy to distract him, Haku the White Feather and all that remained of the _daimyō's_ ninjas secreted themselves into the back alleys of Yukai City.

They had to be quiet. Stealthy.

_The enemy has many spies,_ she thought. Indeed, the enemy was utilizing ninja, as were they, except they had access to far greater numbers. When it came to ninja, the more one had, the better his understanding of the enemy.

Haku had no doubts about the difficulties they would face getting out of the city. Maintaining it as a clandestine affair was highly unlikely, which meant they would have to fight their way out.

It may be impossible.

And yet she was scouting for a way out that perhaps the enemy had overlooked.

They kept low inside various structures; dwellings, inns, great manors. Now they were inside an exchange building after cutting their way in through a wall. There were guards inside, as ever there was in an exchange building, but Haku and the ninja maintained their stealth, skirting past armed guards patrolling the inner corridors, until they came to a window covered in _washi_ paper and framed in a bamboo latticework. It was facing a lonely back street.

"Clear?" Haku asked of the five ninja that accompanied her.

Never speaking unless absolutely required, the black-clad ninja simply nodded his head.

"Then we go."

The White Feather hadn't even needed to unsheathe her _katana_ in this building full of patrolling guards, not a one of them any less than a veteran in some past battle, surely.

One of the ninja cut a hole through the _washi_ paper with his short blade _wakizashi,_ allowing the two behind him to exit without impediment. Haku followed, landing smoothly in the street below.

She glanced about as two of her ninja worked to remove a covering in the middle of the street that lead down to the city sewers.

The White Feather, ever spotless, didn't think twice before following her stealthy companions into the muck below. Once down, one of the ninja lit a small torch he had stowed away inside a satchel at his side.

To either side of the river of filth was a stone path to keep from submerging in the diseased flow.

They walked on, their steps hurried. There was little sound except for the patter of their footsteps on the stones among the flowing of the foul waters.

If they kept on down this thoroughfare they would find themselves outside the city walls after a few hours.

_It would be easy to get lost down here with this many passageways,_ she thought.

Fortunately the sewers of Yukai City, though sprawling, were easy to navigate because they followed the same paths as the streets overhead. All one needed was a detailed map of the city, which she had tucked away under her _katana_.

She wrinkled her nose at the foul lingering stench as they passed under rays of midday sunlight that peaked through the perforated holes in the sewer covers. The smells would have been much fouler if it weren't for the regular upkeep of sewer maintenance—magic users who had the ability to dispel the odors.

"When we find our way outside the city walls," Haku said, "scout the forest ahead."

The ninja she had spoken to nodded. " _Hai_."

"We can't afford to walk into an ambush. You and you," she indicated two of the other ninja. They responded to her commands as easily as though she were the _daimyō_. "Scout ahead. If you find anything suspicious, report back immediately."

The two ninja nodded and set off, running into the darkness.

If I can get this message to the armies we're saved.

She stopped in her tracks as she came to a turnoff, a grotesque pink tale sliding from view behind the wall. She heard the rat squeak and scurry away. A chill ran up her back.

" _Daijoubu?_ " one of the remaining ninja asked her. He regarded the area where she had been watching.

"Everything is fine," she assured the stealthy warrior. She wasn't about to make an admission that the scurrying disease-ridden creatures scared her to death. "Let us continue."

They call me one of the Legends and I'm afraid of rats...

The ninja nodded, ever stoic. They continued down the sewer corridors toward the edge of the city.

## The Sword of a Thousand Suns

Scouting was not his place. That was the work of the ninja. They called him the Sword of a Thousand Suns for a different reason, and because of that, he waited for the reports from the ninja under his command.

Hand gripping his _katana_ sheath, Ujiwara rubbed at its smooth surface with his thumb as he waited patiently in the open street, a contingent of twenty samurai and forty bowmen accompanying him and his ninja.

He turned when the ninja came into view. As it was now, there were hundreds of them scouting and reporting back as mounted samurai patrolled the streets and the outlying countryside past the city wall. He had keen-eyed bowmen stationed atop the highest buildings in Yukai City.

She would not get out.

No. He had sensed her moving. Could almost see her, for her Legendary aura rippling like water in a puddle before his feet.

The ninja came to him.

"What is it?" he asked, curtly.

"My lord, we have her," the ninja said, bowing with both hands clasped together as he said the word. "She is in the sewers with a small group of ninja heading for the southern wall."

"Good work," Ujiwara said.

"Shall we lay in ambush for her?"

"Do not attack her directly." Even through his covered faced, Ujiwara could tell the ninja was perplexed, so he added, "She is the White Feather. They do not call her this name for no reason. Surely you must know?" But he didn't wait for a response. "Her skill with a blade is beyond any of you. So, you need but to keep her from escaping. _I_ will be the one to confront her. Do you understand?"

The ninja nodded.

"Good!"

Ujiwara, the Sword of a Thousand Suns, smiled with satisfaction as he anticipated crossing blades with the most skilled of the Mikuma Imperials.

He had wanted this for some time. He looked into the sky, sensing her unique aura. The first time he had sensed it was when he had accompanied Hukama- _sama_ on a trip to Yukai City. The _daimyō_ she served he had known very little about at the time—cared nothing for, in fact. But her, he couldn't keep his eyes off of. He couldn't stop thinking of her, her aura—powerful and unique, like a food he couldn't wait to eat.

She was powerful, he had known that much. And yet, she stood apart from her lord _daimyō,_ hands clasped in front of her, somber, submissive. Ever the good servant, that much had been obvious.

She was a Legend that outclassed her lord in the blade in every single way.

And yet she was in love with him.

Yes, Ujiwara could see it. She had glanced at him furtively from within his retinue and it was obvious to him.

Now, he laughed out loud, feeling an overwhelming sense of excitement, to the perplexity of the ninja and samurai surrounding him.

"Let us meet them!"

The ninja scurried away, but the samurai hastened to action. Ujiwara stroked the smooth surface of his _katana_ sheath some more in anticipation of the duel to come.

## The First Spear

Nori Hukama did not have a command tent, or a building from which he would be directing this attack. He sat outdoors, under a cherry tree next to the river upon a small wooden cask as his captains surrounded him, a map of the Western Temple splayed out across a small trestle table that had been brought outside for the occasion.

The summer wind was wonderful, and the day was hot.

"They cannot escape by heading west into the mountains," Nori said to his captains. "The terrain is too rough—too perilous for them to make a retreat, and the precipice on both sides of the temple equally impossible to traverse." He pointed at the map, to the stone steps leading to the top of the summit.

Originally the temple had been an old Xai Qi structure from ancient times, but these lands had long been lost to that ancient empire.

"They can assault us from the steps, or we can assault them," Nori continued. "The only other option for Emperor Kurosawa is to sally off the summit across the narrow rope bridges until he reaches the plateau where the harbor is."

Hukama would have liked it if his captains had something to add, but as it were, being a renowned general didn't often leave room for one's subordinates to make suggestions on strategy. Not because those suggestions would seem an affront—no, Nori Hukama would have welcomed them, and he often made such sentiment known—but rather there simply were no alternatives to add.

His captains, garbed in their various armors nodded in agreement. This was less about strategy and more about Hukama informing his captains of what was to happen, since his strategy had already been chosen.

One of the residents came outside. Hukama smiled cheerfully. He was in a good mood today, despite the fact that _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi was out there, looking for ways to hamper his well-laid strategy. "Ah," he said, "so wonderful to see you up and about this morning, Mioko. Would you kindly fetch me and my associates some tea?"

"My lord _daimyō_ ," one of his captains exclaimed, trying to keep his voice low, "is that wise?"

"Of course!" Hukama said. "It is always wise to maintain one's composure during a battle. It gives the mind room to think and strategize."

These men had been with him for years, so they were readily accustomed to Hukama's playful deflections concerning their suggestions. "Come, you may drink with us!"

The young woman, fear stricken—though she had no reason to be—nodded and rushed inside, probably to go about her task Hukama had suggested she get to.

He smiled, taking in the scents of the wonderful sakura blossoms as the pedals spun about in the river.

"Should we not assault their position, my lord?" Huki asked.

Currently, the vast majority of his forces were otherwise occupied fighting in small engagements within and without Yukai City. It was imperative that the defenders not be allowed to regroup for a proper defensive strategy, and so most of Hukama's forces were entangled throughout the city.

He was also not allowing the Yukai City residents leave to exit the walls, which was causing a general panic among the people, but most were staying within their homes. Those who did not obey the strict curfew were punished. Not too strictly, just enough to keep the residents in check.

They were allowed to go about their daily tasks, but they could not leave the city, and they could not leave their houses past sundown. He didn't want to start an uprising due to unreasonable cruelness.

"We will," he said, answering his general. "But I do not want to be _too_ assertive at this time. I would like Emperor Kurosawa to find his back door. Once he does, this very short war will be over."

Huki nodded in agreement.

_I have nearly five thousand men at the base of the temple,_ he thought, _to their two thousand men on the summit. The advantage in numbers is heavily in my favor, and yet the advantage of the battlefield is heavily in their favor._

Today he actually felt a small thrill rush through him. With such an experience, one needed not adorn themselves in luxurious garments or sleep in soft beds. Those things could be had after their goals were met, which they always were.

This strategy of his was on the knife's edge, the precipice of failure. Even the smallest error could result in his defeat. But was that not the way of war? To achieve great successes, one must take great risks, but understanding how to minimize that risk and to avoid recklessness was also paramount.

Would that his other six thousand troops spread through-out the city could join in the fight. But surely the Emperor was thinking similar such thoughts about his armies outside of the country.

And besides, the thrill of battle and conquest can't be felt if the victory is attained too easily. There's little honor in the ease of one's achievements.

As it was, the defenders were completely trapped. Though not without hope. Hukama was careful to afford his enemies hope. When hope failed, one's enemies fought with abandon, and Hukama did not want to encourage his own defeat.

No, he would leave a way out for Emperor Kurosawa to escape. Or at least, it would look as though he had an escape.

Again, Hukama smiled to himself, waiting for the inevitable conclusion to this confrontation, though certain elements still remained a mystery, and he was excited to see what would happen next.

## The Witch

_The tea in this country is surprisingly good,_ Ladya thought as she glanced out the window. It was a beautiful day. A perfect day to trap the Emperor of Mikuma.

The only thing that soured her disposition was that cretin. The Spider was behind the curtain, his back to the corner of the wall where there was much less light. He wouldn't stop making odd noises. Apparently he didn't like the light of the day.

"Stop it, you freak!"

The poor fool whaled something unintelligible, but amongst his gnashing of teeth and incoherent babble, she thought he was speaking to someone, who, she had no idea. She snickered, watching that creature. "I don't know why you insist on pretending you're a spider," she said, laughing as if she were amused at some parlor joke. "You're more like a maggot if you ask me."

" _Nngaah!!!!_ "

The witch laughed out loud at his rage.

Disgusting.

Captain Kozuo said nothing, only glanced at the hideous creature from across the room, clear distaste etched across his face. He would probably cut it down had she asked him.

"Why? Why are _weee here?!_ "

"I told you, _Spider,_ " Ladya said for what felt like the hundredth time, "that we're here to lay an ambush for the Emperor, who is certain to come through here at some point. I hate the wait as much as you, so pulse in the corner and leave me alone."

That... madman cringed in the corner while she took another sip of the wonderful tea. "Captain Kozuo, Mikuma tea really is _quite_ the delight, I must say."

He said nothing.

"What's the matter? Was your tongue pulled out? Speak, man!"

Again, the captain said nothing.

"Fine!" she barked. "I can't wait to be done with this. Did you know that quite until recently I had my own castle? Oh yes, it was quite splendid. The people there talked."

She gave Kozuo a look, eyeing him up and down. He apparently took notice of that, and she thought he seemed somewhat disconcerted, as disconcerted as a statue could be, anyway. She chuckled. "Don't worry, boy. You're not my type. Too... _boring._ "

The Spider snarled. "Why are they here? I don't— _gnah!_ —like it!"

"Oh hush, Spider, dear," Ladya said. Her words actually seemed to calm him and draw his attention, so she decided to go on. She quite liked the sound of her own voice anyway, and having him seizure there in the corner was annoying. "Captain Kozuo and _his samurai_ are stationed here because the First Spear, or General Nori Hukama rather, doesn't completely trust me... Or is it that many warm bodies will be needed for the coming knife?"

She crossed her legs and put her tea cup down. "Why, I shouldn't know," she continued in a dreamy tone, but the real reason is because the Emperor's escape can't seem _too_ easy, is that right, dear Kozuo- _kun_?" Her addressing him with the _kun_ honorific had caused a quick glance. Well, she _was_ his better. It was appropriate.

The Spider looked at her, confusion crossing his big dumb face— _my, that nose,_ _Bayule preserve me,_ she thought. _It's no wonder he decided to be a spider._

She suddenly felt annoyed explaining herself, but she couldn't well just stop talking, she would look stupid. "Anyway! The trap has to pose _some_ difficulty, otherwise Kurosawa and his guard will turn tale and run back to their temple atop the mountain."

She sighed heavily.

I wish they would come already.

Apart from her payment, Ladya would have the freedom to syphon the magic from the various opponents she would no doubt soon encounter. That's why she and her apprentice Kat were here.

# Chapter Seven—The Feather and the Sword

## The White Feather

Around the next bend they should be able to see light, as the sewer drain would come to an end outside of the city walls. When Haku turned the corner she found the two ninja ahead of her standing still, their stances indicating that they were ready for a fight.

The White Feather had already drawn her _katana_ as the backlit forms of several enemy ninja guarding the exit came into view.

She made a sound of exasperation. " _Tch!_ "

Haku turned, searching for a different exit. Her ninja followed as they made their way back into the darkened corridors. Again they came up short as the dark forms of enemy ninja became visible ahead.

_Shuriken_ caromed away from her as she deflected them with her blade. Her ninja returned in kind, their _shuriken_ disappearing into the darkness. Some hit their targets as others struck the stone walls with a metallic clattering.

Now there was only one path open to them, to their left. Haku lead the way, her five ninja tailing her as she swooped down the corridor, her blade upraised, ready to defend against incoming projectiles.

Feet pattering furiously against the stones, they came to an open quarter, a junction that split off in every direction. But she and her stealth warriors quickly found themselves surrounded.

Three of them came in for the attack, her ninja drawing their _wakizashi_ blades. Haku's attackers wasted no time, lunging for a direct strike!

Her blade met her attacker's as she side-stepped, countering with a lethal slash to the enemy ninja's neck. He went down in a spray of blood as three more from the shadows came at her.

Had they truly been trying to kill her, this attack would be different. She knew then that they were flushing her out like hunters.

She glanced back to find one of her ninja already down in a pool of blood. She deflected three more _shuriken_ as an attacker came in at her right. She jumped back, narrowly missing the sharp edge of his _wakizashi_ blade, but because of her arcane knowledge in the secret martial arts, she glided far away from him.

There was one escape. Above her. A ladder that had long been broken. It didn't reach down far enough for the ninja to utilize. She glanced up at the light coming down from the street above.

Abandoning her warriors, she jumped, gliding for the last rung. She clasped it with a single hand, her blade still in her other as more _shuriken_ came at her.

She deflected them, her enemies hissing in frustration.

She jerked her body up, climbing with one hand, ready to deflect more projectiles. None came. Her enemies were occupied with her remaining four ninja as she used her shoulder to push open the perforated sewer cap.

She found herself in an empty street. If she ran now, she could make it past the wall, get out with the message Ujio had given her, intended to warn Emperor Kurosawa's—

"You've done well getting this far."

She turned.

"But this is as far as you go _White Feather_."

He hadn't been there before...

Before her stood a man of medium height, utterly at east, his left hand resting over the smooth sheath of his katana, his thumb caressing the material there. He had a katana and a wakizashi, the daishō pairing. The mark of a swordsman.

What was most surprising about this warrior was that he almost looked like a vagrant. His kimono was black, but she could see that it had been used hard, and not recently. Underneath was the armor of a samurai, yet the armor was not in full set, having only the chest and lower leggings that guarded the wearer's shins.

"Who are you?" she asked, unable to make out his features for the white mask that he wore.

"I'm not surprised that you don't recognize me," he said. "I care little for fame, but you will have heard of me as the Sword of a Thousand Suns."

Her eyes widened in recognition of the title just as he unsheathed his _katana_. The blade was still blood-stained from its recent use. "You mean the Sword of a Thousand _Bloody Red_ Suns!" she corrected, feeling an instant sense of revulsion.

And there was something else there. Fear.

" _Tch!_ "

"Perhaps if your blade didn't taste the blood of others so frequently, you would not have gained such a moniker."

"What others think of me is of no consequence, White Feather."

"You know me?"

"Of course, I know," he said hotly. "You're the best blade in Mikuma, a _sorceress_ , some call you, for your ability to fly on the wind. Perhaps you shouldn't be so quick to judge others."

"The difference between you and I," Haku said, "is that I fly on the wind, while _you_ find yourself in a sword dual every other fortnight."

The masked swordsman sniffed. "Hardly."

"It doesn't matter!" she exclaimed, hardening her resolve. She would have to fight this warrior to get out of the city. "You fall here, today."

"You're mistaken."

"Enough talk!"

He laughed and she couldn't help but feel profoundly insulted.

"Are you offended?"

"I am accustomed..." she said, "...to slightly more cordiality—even from my enemies."

He shrugged. "Do I look like a man concerned with cordiality?"

"I said enough. Let us cross blades, swordsman."

"It will be my pleasure to be the man who defeats the White Feather."

She wanted to fight, but now she couldn't help but ask, "Is that why you fight me? For fame? I thought you didn't care for such things."

"Honor," he said, "not fame. I fight for honor."

"Honor," she sniffed. "There is little honor without recognition of said honor." She smirked having bested them in their verbal dual.

The Sword of a Thousand Suns said nothing.

When he moved, she was hardly unready, but the force of his attack caught her off guard.

Their blades met. Barely. A loud clash of their steel resounded through the alley. The force of his blow sent her back, but through the powers of her martial arts, she glided as if falling into water.

Her white boots came down softly over the paving stones, her heart still beating fast from her surprise and shock.

_Had I been a hair's breadth slower, I'd be in two pieces now,_ she thought, unable not to admire the sheer speed and force of this warrior's attack.

"Do you understand now, White Feather?"

Indeed, she did, though she said nothing as she steeled herself for their dual.

## The Failed Mage

To avoid the city proper, Lawrence, along with Sakura's father and brother, decided that the group should remain within the foothills as they travelled to the Western Temple.

Now though, the failed mage was several hills ahead of the group. It was necessary to scout ahead for safety reasons.

He was not surprised though when he spotted a scout atop the penultimate hill before reaching the bottom of the summit where the temple was located. As it was now, the mage couldn't see the Western Temple because of the cloud cover.

The cooling of the air those clouds provided, and the increase in wind, was very welcome. But he was still sweating.

Lawrence got down on his stomach as he watched the two scouts atop the hill. They looked bored from this distance, but it was hard to tell since he couldn't make out their faces.

The smell of the leaves and the loam of the dirt beneath them wafted up into his nostrils, a fresh wild smell that invigorated him. He wiped his brow.

Fortunately another breeze swept past. He continued watching the two scouts from among the trees for a time. He could get closer, but then he risked discovery, and not knowing who those scouts belonged to, could result in a very bad situation.

He wondered what options they had as he glanced up to his left where the mountains were, then to his right, rolling foothills with Yukai City within easy reach.

_These are not good choices,_ he thought. _But... I can take those scouts easily, make them talk._

Of course, if they were the enemy's scouts, he would either have to kill them or take them prisoner to keep them from going back to their commanding officer to report what happened. He didn't want to kill them, and taking prisoners was always a risk.

No choices.

He backed away from the hilltop before standing back up. He surveyed the hills beyond, the group not visible from where he was. Lawrence began to make his way back to warn them of the imminent approach.

To keep from killing the two scouts, and to make sure neither of them escaped, he would need the help of Tomiichi and Hitomo. As samurai, the two men were the only two of the group he could count on in a fight, or for capturing scouts. Maybe the oni could assist, but that man was strange.

## The Spider

Like himself and all others, spiders were fascinating creatures. The way they could climb on the walls, feel the vibrations of their prey as they squirmed and writhed in utter fear, or simply ran an in their feeble attempts to escape certain death.

The Spider watched from behind the peaking hole as the dark room scurried, Nazrednas whimpering from the back of his mind. He ignored the feeble fool. Taking on the spirit of his very first victim had been an enthralling experience, but many a time, sharing one body was simply a hindrance.

_Especially when he takes control,_ the Spider thought, though he had gotten much better at controlling that.

He loathed the mind within his mind, and yet, he fed off of it. An ally, a companion, and a victim all in one. He chuckled from deep within his throat as he listened to the occasional scurry.

"What are you doing?"

The Spider turned about, his hand tensing for the knife which he kept hidden underneath his robes. He often called that knife his tooth.

"Nothing," he said quickly.

Lady Markovila, tall, lithe, a woman he would love to have in his web for just one night so he could hear her scream, stood there watching him, a smirk on her beautifully aggravating face.

Her contemptuous smirk deepened. Why, the Spider did not know. She seemed to be fond of her spiders, so why did she hate him so?

He couldn't help but growl.

She stepped past him, her booted heels knocking loudly against the stone floor. She peered through the peak hole in the door. "They're quite fascinating, are they not?"

_We are,_ he thought.

_We are!_ the mind within his mind echoed.

Silence!

She turned to him, a look of confusion on her face. "What are you scowling at, freak?"

He stepped back, his teeth showing. How he wanted to rip her clothes of and have her squirm naked.

The bitch flinched.

"And now you leer at me?" She laughed, her melodious, contemptuous laugh. He hated it. "Some might call me wrong in the head, but I believe the gods have rightly destroyed your mind, Bayule preserve me!"

He lunged, his tooth coming out to taste her sweet meat.

But then something happened. Something snapped loudly. Now he was looking up at the rafters above them. The Spider found himself on his back at least five paces from the woman.

"Do that again, and I feed you to my spiders!" she snapped, all trace of mirth gone from her character. "You know, spiders are cannibalistic? Don't you, _Spider?_ " She practically pierced him with that last word.

Nazrednas screamed in agony inside his mind, but the Spider could only spit as he went into a frenzied rage, kicking his arms and legs. Where was his tooth?

There it is!

"I would not," she said, imperious as ever. "A spider should know when it's beaten and slink back into its webbed hole."

I will drain this witch!

Drain herrrr!

_We will,_ he told Nazrednas. _We will, as she screams in agony._

In agonnny! No! Nonono!!!

Silence, weakling!

"Like my employers," Markovila said, "I find you quite distasteful, though I admit, you were quite effective at starting that riot. I will not kill you now. You may be useful to me later."

To keep from attempting to leap on her again, he forced himself not to watch her as she walked past him, her boots clacking noisily.

"Behave yourself, Spider."

He snarled, a wordless promise of retribution.

## The Witch

Ladya shivered as she made her way back to her rooms. She met Kat there. "Keep an eye on our 'spider,'" she said. "I believe he wants to murder me in my sleep."

Kat, tall and beautiful like herself, a good learner and equally as sadistic as she, bowed. "But why not simply kill him, Mistress? Would that not be safer?"

The younger woman was robed, her usual tight leather and cinching strings not visible. One would never know she kept a deadly whip underneath those garments. The thought made Ladya smile.

"No," she said lazily. "He may still prove useful."

"May I end him when we're finished here?"

"Hmm," she hummed dreamily. "Perhaps, if the opportunity is made easy. I quite wish to be rid of this place."

"I too, want to be gone from here."

"Stay on your guard, Kat. A battle is near. I can sense it in the army. Our esteemed First Spear is preparing for an attack on the temple."

"Isn't it impossible?"

"Certainly, but I believe it's all a ruse for his assassins. The Emperor will be flushed toward us here at the harbor. We shall see, my sweet thing. Now, after today, I wish to depart with our gold quickly. Prepare for our voyage. Bayule, I hate ships."

Kat bowed, ever the supplicant. "As you wish, Mistress."

Perhaps being gone from here after today was too optimistic. In any case, Hukama would still have to pay her base fee. Should his army be attacked by magic users, it was up to her and Kat to deal with them, which would increase her pay considerably, not to mention provide her with sources of magic.

If I can capture them.

Many of them had been set loose, to cause fear and horror within the populous. Weeks ago a large shipment of her spiders had been delivered into the city in secret. Once Hukama took control, his men would root them out and destroy them. Keeping the local inhabitants safe from such horrors would surely make the people of Yukai City more amenable to his occupation.

_A smart general,_ she thought, a smile coming to her face. Perhaps a part of her was enjoying this whole affair, though there were too many tedium's for her to truly enjoy it.

Ladya felt exposed without her fortress. Once she was paid, she wanted to be gone—to begin building her new mansion.

Perhaps a castle had always been a little too much.

She watched the taller, younger woman walk into the adjacent room. _She's growing up,_ Ladya thought. She was a capable warrior, and a decent witch, but Ladya had been holding back her arcane secrets from her apprentice for years. _Don't grow up too fast, my deer._

The girl was simply too useful to the witch. And... it was quite possible Kat could one day surpass Ladya in magical ability. The very thought rankled her with jealousy, so she pushed it from her mind.

## The Princess Heir

"It's so... so hot," Noriko said.

"Yes, my lady," Mika said, diligently.

Dija, one of the few non humans in the entire group, coughed. "Indeed," she said, a pointed tone in her strumming cat-like voice. "As you've said a hundred times already."

Both the women, Mika and Dija, took to calling the princess "my lady" now to avoid attracting the wrong attention, but they were still lacking a proper false name.

They pressed on, Princess Noriko in the middle, Dija behind and Mika to the front. The two loyal handmaids never left her side. Well, maybe they did when she needed to be alone, or otherwise required further privacy. Not that she was used to having much privacy anyway.

Have any of them recognized me?

Dija had been quite apprehensive when the leaders of their group, which looked to her to be three men and a woman, had looked over their way, their stares lingering a little too long as they conferred among themselves.

But the Dija's fears had been alleviated when they otherwise ignored them as did most of the members in their group. To them, they should simply look like high-class visitors from the palace, especially since Dija had Noriko removed her outer kimono.

What she wore now was... somewhat scandalous, but at least her royal robes were nowhere in sight. _If nothing,_ she thought, _Dija is quite the capable woman._ If any of them could stay alive during this catastrophe, it was her.

But she hadn't abandoned the princess. She was ever the loyal servant. Noriko smiled as she wiped her brow.

"What?" Dija asked suspiciously.

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. You turned with a smirk on your face."

"It's nothing."

"Fine, be that way."

"You're quite irritable, Dija," Mika said.

"Why do you _think_ I'm irritable, cub?"

Mika giggled. Being called "cub" never seemed to get old with her. She thought it was very funny. She had even lashed out at Dija playfully once, making cat claws and yowling sounds, much to the older handmaids disgruntlement.

"We could shave you."

Noriko couldn't help but snort with laughter at that one. She didn't usually make the cat eye the butt of her jokes, but anything to lighten the mood. Today Dija was taking them quite stoically, but now she was at her limit.

"That's enough, Mika."

The younger handmaiden sighed as she kicked at a clump of grass. The hill was getting steeper now. All of them were, and they were all three panting with the exertion required of traversing this path to the Western Temple.

Some old ladies passed them by—farmers by the looks of them. Noriko loved the outdoors, and she would have found this to be a splendid adventure had it not been for the attack on the palace, her missing father and brother, and her nation being under attack from some unknown enemy with mysterious motives.

The princess wanted answers so badly, but neither Mika nor Dija had any. The man, the westerner in the kimono seemed to have some kind of an idea, or at least that's how he presented himself.

Noriko didn't think she should leave Yukai City, much less Mikuma, but what else could she do? She had to get to safety. Those attackers would be after her.

Father and brother may already be dead.

She felt a knot form in her stomach.

"You're very"—Dija panted—"quiet now, Princess—I mean, _my lady._ "

"They could be dead."

"Indeed."

"Dija!"

"What?"

"For an old cat eye you do seem to lack proper compassion at times," Mika chided.

Dija sighed. "I'm sorry, my lady. The facts are that we don't know what happened. They may both be fine."

"Or they may not be..."

"Do you see, Mika? She's bent on being negative. If that's what you want, my lady, then there's nothing I can do for you."

Noriko stopped at a log crossing the path. It wasn't touching the ground there because of the branches and the roots propping it up, and along the trunk were twigs. She tried to get past them, but they were scratching her arms.

"Let me," Mika said.

She moved to pull the twigs back, but then Dija came forward, simply grabbed the branch and ripped it off.

Mika was clearly taken aback at the cat eye's aggression. "What?" Dija asked.

"I... I just..."

"You're very strong, Dija," Princess Noriko said.

"Indeed," she said, helping Noriko cross the log by pulling her forward by the hand. "Try to think positively. Worrying will do you no good."

She sighed. "You're probably right."

"Of course I am."

"What's happening," Mika asked, stopping short on the path ahead. "Why is everyone stopping?

"Perhaps you should go ask someone who knows," Dija retorted.

Mika nodded, loping off. Out of the three women, she had the most energy among them.

"Thank you, Dija," Noriko said.

"I'm sorry... for being... well..."

"You on a bad day?"

Now it was Dija who was taken aback. "Is this how I really am?"

"Mhm."

She seemed to take pause at that, gave it some thought. "Well, I'm sorry. It's very hot out today and I'm not wearing my night clothes like you are."

Noriko laughed, and Dija snorted at her own deprecation.

"We will get through this, my lady. I promise you."

Noriko smiled. That really did make her feel much better. "Thank you."

"It seems they called for a break," Mika said, trudging back.

Dija squatted. She didn't seem relaxed, but apparently that's how cat eye stood when relaxed.

Noriko found a patch of grass and Mika sat next to her.

"I wish we had some food," the young handmaid said.

"Me too," Noriko said. "My stomach is begging with hunger."

Dija rolled her eyes. She never was one to complain. She thought it was a waste of time complaining about things that no one could change. Perhaps it was.

_But it makes me feel better,_ Princess Noriko thought.

## The Failed Mage

To keep the scouts from separating and escaping, the failed mage directed that Hitomo and Tomiichi offer a diversion, while he came up behind them. He was careful not to venture too far behind the hill, lest he encounter any other scouts.

He stocked up the incline, his boots kicking through the leaves and ferns. He slowed when he could hear the two sentries. He was close, very close. He stopped, breathed silently while listening. It felt like forever before the guards cried out in surprise as Hitomo and Tomiichi inevitably came upon them as two travellers in the woods. It was impossible to see what was happening in the city, even from the foothills of the mountains, since the city abutted them directly.

Of course, they couldn't avoid suspicion.

The sky above Yukai City was a haze of white and grey smoke as fires in the city smoldered. Lawrence put it from his mind as he snuck up on the two sentries who had their _yari_ spears pointed at Hitomo and Tomiichi.

Coming up directly behind them, he put one man in a choke hold until he dropped his weapon. Tomiichi snatched it up in a heartbeat, and now they were in a standoff with the other sentry. Neither of the two men were samurai, and so lacked the necessary skills for proper defense against veteran warriors.

The sentry still brandishing his spear screamed out some orders for them to release his ally.

"Silence!" Lawrence called. "Put down your arms or your comrade dies."

The sentry seemed to think about it for a moment, and in a huff he threw his weapon down onto the grass in utter frustration with himself.

"What are you going to do with us?" It was the one Lawrence had in his grip.

"We're taking you prisoner, of course," the failed mage said. "Comply and you won't be harmed. I give you my word."

"Your word?"

"On my honor."

They seemed to calm at his promise. The man in Lawrence's grip nodded, and he let the man go.

The guard turned to face him, rubbed his neck. "Then take us back to your camp."

Hitomo glanced toward the prisoners, a skeptical look crossing the old man's face. "Oh no you don't," Lawrence said. "I said if you cooperate no harm will come to you. We want information."

The two centuries look at each other.

"How large is the force camped bellow the Western Temple?"

"Don't say anything," one man said.

Hitomo backhanded him. "Quiet, if you know what's good for you, boy."

The other sentry swallowed.

"Don't say anyth- _gah!_ "

"I said be quiet."

"Just tell us," Lawrence persisted, his tone perfectly reasonable. "Don't make us burn it out of you." He snapped his fingers, a spark igniting for a moment there. "Who is your leader?"

"Okay, okay!"

"That's a good man," Lawrence said. "No answer my questions."

"It's Nori Hukama," the guard said, much to the disapproval of his comrade. "The general is Nori Hukama, the First Spear of Daixen!"

Tomiichi and Hitomo's eyes widened as they looked at each other. Lawrence fully understood the implication. "Well," he said, "I would have expected much more from a soldier out of _his_ army."

The scout laughed. "I'm not in his army. Not properly."

"What do you mean?" Tomiichi asked. "Your accent is from the city."

"He's a local conscript," Lawrence said. "Used to pad his own lack of forces. Probably from one of the guilds—isn't that right?"

"But..." Tomiichi said, taken aback. "How does he get away with that?"

The failed mage snorted. "You know most men fight for a wage and a promise. Apparently Hukama's promises are better than the promises of your emperor."

"And the guilds," Hitomo mused, "don't care for the common good."

"I can't believe this!" Tomiichi said. Gutter trash, all of you. I would understand if you were some _gaijin_ but your own people?"

"Enough," Lawrence commanded. "We take these two back to the group where we can figure out what our next move is. But we need to be careful." He gave Tomiichi and Hitomo a severe look that clearly meant he was inferring indicating Princess Noriko who was evidentially in disguise.

The two men took the hint, and they started making their way back to the group. "Since we took these men prisoner," Hitomo said, "they will no doubt be missed. Others will be sent after them."

"I agree," Tomiichi said.

Lawrence was leading the small group of men back. "Then we move the group."

"It might not be that easy," Hitomo said.

"Then let's hope luck is with us."

When they got back to the group, they used some sack cloth to tie the two men up so they couldn't escape, leaving Hitomo there to guard them with one of the spears.

Sakura joined Tomiichi and Lawrence in a slightly secluded conference thirty or so paces from the main group. The dancer was aghast at the news that their attacker was none other than the legendary general Nori Hukama. Once that was past, they starting suggesting ideas to one another.

"I think we need to tell the Princess what's going on," Sakura said.

Tomiichi shook his head. "That would put her in danger."

"It would," Lawrence added, "but she has a right to know the danger she's in, and the danger we—and she—will have to overcome if we're to get to the cove on the other side of the peninsula."

"We could... always make our way north," Sakura suggested.

Lawrence forced himself not to laugh at the suggestion. "Those are enemy lands. It's too dangerous. I think getting to the _Ikaima Dancing Fan_ is our best course of action. From there we can sail to any safe harbor that will have us."

"Then the Princess should know."

Lawrence and Tomiichi looked at each other. The commander nodded in agreement. "But I still think we should run this by father."

"Fine," Sakura said and Lawrence agreed.

After telling Hitomo, who agreed with some reluctance and some convincing, Sakura went to fetch Princess Noriko. The young woman seemed confused when they brought her forward. Lawrence had suggested they stay closer to the group now so not to attract any attention to the girl.

Accompanying her were two women, one a young human and the other a middle-aged cat eye. The human girl seemed perplexed, but the cat eye was suspicious, her demeanor hostile and defensive.

"Yes, we're handmaidens of the lady. What of it?"

Sakura was beginning to explain that they knew who she was, but the dancer was taking so long in an obvious attempt not to shock them, that Lawrence ran out of patience. "We know you're Princess Noriko Kurosawa."

"Wha—whaaat?!" the cat eye howled. She literally bared her fangs and claws just then as the younger handmaiden covered her mouth in horror at the prospect of being discovered.

The princess didn't bat en eyelash. "Easy, Dija," she said stoically. "If they wanted to harm me, they would have done so already without telling me they know who I am."

That seemed to calm her two handmaidens, but it was too late now, they had made a scene, and it was clear something was going on now that the leaders of the group were speaking with what was supposed to be an anonymous young noblewoman.

"So why?" Dija asked, glaring at them.

"Cats are always slow to trust, I see," Lawrence said.

"I'm not a cat!"

"Do you know where we're heading?" he asked, addressing the princess and ignoring the feisty cat eye. He only asked because when he had addressed the group, it was clear that in their panic, many of them were not listening, but rather simply following the herd.

The princess nodded. "I do."

"But there's a problem," Tomiichi said. "Hukama's army is encamped between us and the Western Temple."

"Did you just say Hukama?" Princess Noriko asked.

Dija growled, putting a furred paw over her forehead. "I thought things could not get worse."

"What does this mean?" Mika asked. "Isn't this Hukama a great general or something?"

"That's exactly what he is, Mika," Sakura said in answer.

"You really should listen more closely to these kinds of things, child," Dija chided. "You're always the last to catch up."

Mika was positively contrite. "I'm sorry."

"Never mind that."

Hitomo cleared his throat. It seemed he was attempting to summon more dignity than he had been mustering before. "The problem is that we need to get to the ship, but that army stands in our way. What do we do?"

"Walking through the mountains isn't an option," Tomiichi said. "We don't have the supplies. We would starve.

"Not only that," Lawrence said, "the enemy knows something has happened out here now, or soon will. If they pursue us, our march through the mountains will be too slow to evade them. We would be captured. Easily." He turned to the princess directly. "You would undoubtedly be discovered."

"I don't mean to scare you, Majesty," Hitomo said in a hushed voice. "But its clear Hukama's aim is either to capture or kill the royal family."

"That's enough!" Dija spat. "The princess doesn't need these weights on her already burdened shoulders. Leave her be!"

No one said anything.

_Perhaps this Dija woman is right,_ Lawrence thought. _With the palace smoldering, her nation invaded by the legend general, she surely has little hope._

The failed mage didn't often feel sorry for people, but now he sympathized with the princess. "Highness," he said. "If you wish it, leave everything to me and I'll get you to that ship. I swear it."

"No," she said, standing up taller. "I want to know what is happening. I'm perfectly capable of being a part of this conversation without breaking down in sobs. I may be a princess, but I'm not a delicate rose pedal."

"My apologies," Lawrence said, though he didn't need to say the words. Really it was the cat eye sheltering the girl. She was clearly a loyal servant. Lawrence decided then not to antagonize her any further. "You're absolutely right, Princess."

Dija looked at him, her glare deepening.

_Perhaps not entirely,_ he thought, a wry grin coming to his lips.

"What are you smiling at?" Dija asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Lawrence said. "I'm just surprised at how strong your princess is."

## The Sword of a Thousand Suns

His samurai trailed far behind as he pursued the White Feather. She jumped from rooftop to rooftop. She was attempting to escape his blade, knowingly unable to match his skills.

"You're good with a blade!" he called as he raced down the street after her. He laughed. "But you're not good enough!"

Ujiwara glanced about, making sure she wouldn't escape between jumps when he couldn't see her directly atop the roofs. If she tried to hide, his samurai would surround the area and capture her.

" _Fly, little bird!_ "

## The White Feather

Gliding through the air, Haku braced for another landing. Her boots connected with the roof tiles on the other side and she kicked her legs to keep from falling into a heap.

She ran, jumped across another space, her eyes darting about for any sign of bloodthirsty swordsman pursuing her.

He was there. Bellow her, running and cursing and laughing as he gave chase. The Sword of a Thousand Suns didn't possess the same arcane abilities as she did, which meant he was pursuing her through the streets as she jumped across the buildings.

No one can keep up with me!

Her sword was sheathed now. Haku had no use for a blade while she was evading capture. _Trying to evade capture,_ she corrected herself.

She jumped.

"How is he keeping up?!"

She landed, her white boots skidding across the roof tiles, one of which came out from under her. She stumbled and nearly fell.

Normally she moved as gracefully as the wind, as light as a feather as they said, but now she was fleeing. Fleeing for her life.

And she was scared.

She had never felt fear like this before—like a cornered animal trying to escape the jaws of death, some predator's prey.

And then his voice came from bellow. She heard the words "white feather" shouted at her. She realized she must have looked afraid as she ran for her life, all her grace gone.

She almost felt ashamed that she was sullying her reputation.

It won't do me much good if I'm dead!

She grunted, jumping high into the air and gliding over a building completely. She used her martial skills to maintain a soft landing. It was slower, but having skipped a structure entirely, she could afford it.

At least she thought she could.

But then the Sword of a Thousand Suns was on her from below again, his pursuit relentless. She would continue to evade until she lost him so she could escape the city and call for aid.

## The Failed Mage

_If it were a clear day,_ Lawrence thought, peering up through the trees at the mountain. _I should probably be able to see the temple from here._

"Can you see it?" Sakura asked.

"Nothing. It's too cloudy."

"Cloudy or smoky?"

"It's a storm," Tomiichi interjected. "The clouds have been darkening in the north for some time now, thank the _kami_. That should put out some of the fires in the city."

They were two hills ahead of the group. Hitomo had been left behind to maintain the two prisoners they had as Lawrence and Sakura came to the front, along with Princess Noriko and her maidservants.

"Did you"—Noriko panted—"say rain?"

The failed mage turned to regard the young woman. For a princess, she sure was good on her feet—and in these hills even. Her cat eye made was directly behind her, her younger handmaiden trailing at the bottom of the hill. "Indeed," he said. "As our guard captain has said, we should thank the gods."

"I think I can feel it," Noriko said excitedly, "a cool breeze coming in."

"As can I," Sakura said.

Lawrence just now realized she was wearing the black silk kimono he had purchased off a refugee earlier in the day.

Sakura looked at him. "What?"

"I..." he gestured toward her, and the dancer looked down at her breasts. "I mean—my kimono."

Sakura laughed. " _Your_ kimono?"

He grunted in exasperation at his own stumbling thoughts. _Heavens, she makes me nervous._ "I meant the one I gave you."

"Do you like it?"

"Yes," he said plainly. "It suits you well."

She smiled, proffering a small bow of thanks. Lawrence returned the gesture. It wasn't one he was unfamiliar with, living in this part of the world for near on a decade now. He was well versed in many of the customs and beliefs.

He decided to change the subject instead of lingering awkwardly. "We need to press on. I can hear Hukama's army now. It sounds like they're making a push toward the temple."

"Let them try!" Tomiichi said. "No one can take the temple with a defending force occupying the area—not even Hukama!"

"I'm partial to agree with you, my friend," Lawrence said as he looked back up toward the mountain, the clouds misting the summit from view. "However, legendary generals don't attain that status by attaining victories through conventional circumstances."

Tomiichi sighed. Lawrence could see that his words were dampening his spirit. He was only trying to be realistic so that in the event that Hukama took the temple, he would have less to be disappointed about.

And better prepared for a plan of action, too.

"Cheer up," Sakura said, moving next to her brother, who was nearly a head and shoulders taller than she was. She put a hand on his back. "Everything will be fine. You'll see."

Tomiichi nodded and Princess Noriko seemed to take that in. She looked deep in thought, as her cat eye maid watched her reaction to the words spoken, just as Lawrence was. "I pray to the gods that you're right, Sakura," she said.

Mika finally made it to the top of the hill, panting and asking what she missed. "Do we even know if anyone is up there defending the temple?" she asked, huffing as she came between them.

"There would be no need to march an army to the base of the summit otherwise," Sakura said.

Lawrence smiled. "For a dancer," he said, "you certainly have a keen mind for this sort of thing."

Is that a smirk?

Lawrence certainly had no intention of telling the dancer what he thought at this time, but he was really beginning to like her.

Something stirred.

"Quiet," Tomiichi hissed. "Someone is coming."

# Chapter Eight—Knights of the Purging Flame

## The Failed Mage

His eyes darted to the underbrush where the rustling was coming.

Flashes of steel.

Multiple figures—not samurai—bearing arms, began to approach from fifty paces ahead.

"Look out!" Lawrence called as he summoned reserves of strength still unspent. With only one spear between him and Tomiichi, they weren't going to fend off these attackers.

Without waiting to give them an opportunity to assault them, the failed mage thrust out his palms.

One of his enemies called, " _Mage!_ "

They fanned out immediately and a figure wearing ornate plate with wings on either side of his helm rushed forward from behind his comrades.

_If you want to be the first to die,_ Lawrence thought _, then here you go!_

The mage materialized multiple balls of fire, hurled them at his enemy with a pumping of his arms. The blazing magic streaked toward the enemy warriors.

But then something unexpected happened. With an underhanded strike the fop at the front deflected the first fireball, then the other three with successive sweeps of his blade, his movements a mere blur of action as the fireballs screamed and exploded a safe distance from their heads.

Lawrence gritted his teeth. He had never seen such a thing before. He turned toward the others. "Tomiichi! I need you! Everyone else, run!"

He didn't wait to be obeyed. Lawrence charged the enemy. If he couldn't attack them with a frontal assault, he would hit them from a different side until his attacks found their marks.

Running through the grass and trees—there looked to be five or six of them—Lawrence darted to the right and ran a moderate half-circle so as not to be attacked as he outflanked the group of...

Are they knights?

No time to think. He was behind them now, his runes glowing like embers as he summoned the last of his reserved strength for one more flurry of fireballs.

Lawrence would turn them into burnt meat and charred leather this time. Instead he came up short, flinched involuntarily as three of the knights were facing him, their swords positioned defensively.

They were going to deflect his magic just like their leader had, and he didn't have enough magical reserves to summon more fire afterward.

Instead of wasting his last chance, he suppressed the magic, which was near to bursting, his runes screaming as if being seared into his flesh anew.

Growling, he back stepped quickly as the three defenders were already moving forward for the assault, their plate and mail clinking with every step, a wall of muscle and steel and certain death.

" _Lawrence!_ " Tomiichi called.

He saw the pike go up into the air. The guard commander must have known he had no chance since he was tossing his weapon to Lawrence.

But before it hit the ground, that foppish knight, faster than any plated warrior he had ever seen, intercepted the weapon, sending it away from its intended trajectory with a metallic screech as it caromed off the warrior's double-edged sword.

The man up front, surprisingly thin and lithe for all that plate—

That's a woman?!

The failed mage froze in his tracks. He wasn't expecting what he was now seeing. Hukama surely recruited from far and wide.

Then she spoke.

"Are you going to gawk or fight, mercenary?"

He could run, but that would surely leave the others—leave Sakura—to be captured. Lawrence wasn't going to allow that to happen.

"Make up your mind!"

_Damnation,_ he thought. _She's impatient like me._

Lawrence couldn't help himself from letting out his next words. "I thought you were some kind of foppish knight, but I see now that you're a wench off playing at swords and shields."

He didn't have to look very hard to judge that the plate she wore was the best the failed mage had ever seen. It covered every inch of her body down to her hips, leaving only her mouth, throat and upper thighs exposed to possible injury. Her boots, though leather, were equally impressive, coming up to her above the knees, small plates of armor covering her shins.

She actually giggled at his insult, a sound he wasn't expecting to come out of the mouth of this warrior woman.

"Oh, you're right," she said, a note of seduction in her tone, "Daddy's been quite upset with me." She laughed, evidentially her own wit quite amused her.

_So..._ he thought, _deranged as well._

"Why don't you come over here and show me how to use that blade!"

Her tone abruptly changed. "Do you _want_ me to kill you, you magic-wielding filth?"

"Indeed, I do not. I would much rather prefer to give you a nice hot spanking, you heavy wench!"

Surprised with himself, Lawrence nearly laughed, but he didn't want to come across as deranged, so forced himself to only reveal a smile.

"You have quite the mouth, mage."

He needed to stall them. "I could say the same of you, miss...?"

She was close enough that Lawrence could see her mouth twist in distaste. "Do you usually ask the names of those about to run you through?"

"Normally, no," he said, "but you look peculiar and I don't recognize that crest on your breastplate. Being a mercenary myself, I'm curious what your company is called."

Her evident annoyance clearly went to disgust as she began to sneer more and more with every word that came out of his mouth.

"Odd," he continued, "that you bristle more at not being recognized than you do at being called a cow. Quite vane, are we?"

"Enough!" she barked. "You die here, magic wielder!"

_Something isn't right here,_ he thought as he began to back step.

He was out of time, but he couldn't run, and fighting was all but useless against these... knights? She had angered quickly at being assumed a mercenary. _So, haughty and vain. Very knightly._

Lawrence decided to throw something out there. "Are you a _Flamma_ _Purigare_?"

She stopped short, her eyes widening for a moment before quickly narrowing to slits. Though her upper face was covered by her helmet, there was enough space for her to see by, allowing Lawrence to also see her expressions. Again she sneered, but this time in evident bemusement, as a predatory look crossed what features he could make out. "No one calls us that anymore, you dolt."

She lunged.

"NOW DIE!"

## The Masked Demon

Muji cut down another enemy warrior as screams and grunts and sharp blades wisped through the air, metal scraping on metal. Blood was everywhere. The dead were scattered about the street.

Another enemy group defeated.

Muji had twelve samurai with him and nearly twice that number in lower born warriors who had flocked to him.

"Good work," he said to the men around him. One warrior nursed a gash on his arm. Muji gave him a look over. It was a bad injury.

"Are you all right?"

He could tell the man was trying to keep from allowing the pain to show on his face. But his pause before answering told the general all he needed to know. "Yes," the samurai said. "I am fine. Let us press on."

Perhaps he would survive. Muji's _daimyō_ had some healers back at their base of operations. They were no longer roving about the city, looking for weak points to skirmish against. Not now that warriors were beginning to flock to his banner.

His force was now nearly six hundred strong.

_Perhaps we have a chance,_ Muji thought. But chance or no chance, he would fight and he would die an honorable death in service to his _daimyō_.

"We head back!" he called. "You. You." He pointed toward two men. "Scout those streets and report."

The men nodded, obeying the well-known samurai. " _Hai!_ "

Many dreaded him, and rightly so. His blade had stained the stones in these lands for nearly two decades now.

They weren't far from Sakuraichi's base, an old slum district with warrens and narrow alleys. Perfect for defense against a much larger force. Whenever the enemy sent vanguard forces to scout the area, Sakuraichi's best men would hold the alleys while the bulk of his force, unseen and unknown, would retreat to a different area.

They were halted by a sentry with a bow, and then allowed into the warrens. Muji was returning with a fresh force of men to add to the streams already making their way toward them.

He needed to head back out quickly with some good men to make sure the warriors finding their way into Sakuraichi's ranks wouldn't be attacked and killed before they could reach the warrens. The enemy was already making effective attempts at burning down the warrens entirely.

Muji looked up into the sky beyond the mountains. He could hardly see the clouds through the smoke, but they were there, dark and roiling.

_The rains can't come soon enough,_ he thought, gripping the hilt of his _katana_ as it jutted out from its sheath where he had the sword placed on his hip.

## The Winged Blade

She should have run him through. Instead her sword missed him by mere inches as he sidestepped from her thrust, the devil's spawn!

Instantly, she struck again with a sideways slash, but this troublesome mage jumped back, narrowly missing the blade once again.

There was a thunderclap and dirt exploded in front of her.

"Lady Captain!" one of her men called as she raised a gauntleted forearm to shield her eyes from the attack.

Before the smallest of debris landed, she was already slashing with her sword, but again for the third time, her blade hit nothing.

She growled, feeling the heat of her frustration rise into her face. And there he was, standing there like nothing had just happened. It infuriated her. "You're good, magicker, but I'll finish you before long."

"Easy to say when you have five armed and armored men at your back."

Her eyes shot open and she couldn't stifle the unbidden scream that exploded out of her mouth as she rushed the mage, sword outthrust for the killing blow.

She was shunted to the side when his palm came against the flat of her blade, sending it safely away from his body.

He came in for an uppercut, but she was ready for it!

## The Failed Mage

She knocked his arm aside. The next thing the failed mage knew he was taking back steps, coughing and wheezing as he went.

The knight had landed a good punch into his stomach.

Lawrence thrust a warding arm forward to make the knight take a defensive pause while he recovered, her allies surrounding him in a tactical half-circle formation. They weren't taking any chances. Good, because that would keep them nice and slow—away from the group.

After fighting for this long, he had probably wasted enough time to allow the others to escape, though what happened to Tomiichi, he couldn't say.

"Your demon magic might be powerful," the woman said, "but you don't even come close to me in armed and unarmed combat."

He had recovered enough to speak. Fortunately. "Give me a sword, you armored cow and we'll see about that."

She burst out laughing. "For one about to die, you sure know how to talk a big game of dice."

Lawrence chuckled then. "For one on the higher side of the game"—the dicing metaphors seemed appropriate—"you sure do waste a lot of time."

She stood up straight. "So that's it, mage? You were stalling us? Please... We'll slice your allies to ribbons as soon as catch them."

"With all that armor?" he asked. "You lunge quickly, and I noticed you can move in quick jaunts, but don't think I haven't noticed the weight begin to carry. What is it, runes? I know you don't use magic."

"What are you talking about?"

She tried, quite feebly to deflect, but he knew what was going on. "You've already begun to slow. Just like a big, tired cow."

"Stop calling me that!"

"I'm surprised my insults are even getting to you, what with all that armor, you'd think you had some skin under there. Perhaps you have too much. Is your gambeson too thin? Oh, you're not wearing one?" He tilted his head. "Are you wearing anything under all that plate? If you are, it must be stifling. I wouldn't be wearing anything. Did my fire singe your—"

She growled.

"Lady Captain," one of her men on the left called. "He's taunting you!" Don't—"

"Quiet!" she ordered, her hand rising to emphasize her authority. "I'm well aware!"

"Captain!"

" _What?_ "

"We're wasting time. They're escaping."

She snarled, evidentially understanding that. "Fine!" she spat. Go after them. "I'm staying her to deal with this devil's spawn."

"Devil's spawn?" Lawrence asked. "I worship no dark gods. Is it the magic you can't stomach?"

"Captain."

"Go. I'll be fine."

The other knight took pause for a moment, but finally obeyed. "Let's go," he called, and the other five knights followed him in the direction of the group.

Lawrence felt uneasy. He hoped they would be all right. _Where is Tomiichi?_

"Now I'm going to crush you, mage."

"Just as soon as you stop talking?"

She sneered as she dropped into a fighting stance, completely sure of her own abilities versus his. That was a mistake.

## The Dancer

As her mother grasped her by the forearm, Sakura told her father to be careful. The old samurai took up his spear and began to hike up the hill.

The very idea of watching the prisoners terrified Sakura. The knuckles on her left hand were white, the grip of the bladed haft there sweaty and unsatisfactory.

"You're positively shaking, child."

Sakura disentangled herself from her mother and turned toward the voice. It was Dija, that cat eye handmaid.

"Here," she said. "Give me the _yari_." She put out a pawed hand, gesturing for Sakura to give her the weapon.

_He told me to watch them,_ she thought, not relinquishing the spear.

"I don't need that edge," Dija said, a fierce look coming to her eyes. "But you're useless with that thing."

Sakura suddenly noticed the claws protruding from Dija's fingertips. They were long, curved and looked quite deadly. The dancer knew the cat eye was telling the truth. She pushed the spear into Dija's hand. The maid took the weapon and passed it over to Sakura's mother. Yukio's eyes bulged and she cocked her head back, but she took the weapon, though as if Dija were handing her a spider.

"I feel useless," she said.

"Do you not possess healing magic?"

Sakura flinched. "How do you know that?"

"I'm a cat eye," Dija said curtly. "An _old_ cat eye. I can smell it on you."

"Oh..."

"Don't worry. Your time will come, I'm sure of that."

With that, Dija looked up the hill where Hitomo had been hiking. Sakura followed the other woman's gaze, but her father had disappeared. Would one man make any difference if Lawrence and Tomii were in trouble?

She didn't think so.

Nevertheless, they were in danger here, so she got up suddenly. "Everyone!" she called. Dija seemed surprised at her as she swept about in a carrying voice. "We need to stay together. The enemy is just over that hill. We need to flee."

People in the group began to cast worried eyes about, some of the women grasping their children more tightly.

"Do as she says," Hiun said from beside a tree. His voice hardly carried far enough for anyone to hear.

"There you are," Sakura accused. "I've been looking for you."

"Have you? I've been... here."

The dancer nearly rolled her eyes, but she was distracted. "Is that so?" People were getting up and making their way back down the foothills, their steps hurried.

"Do not panic!" She watched as a couple of their members broke off in a different direction entirely. "Stay together!"

She was going to go after them when Hiun moved forward, jerkiness in his step. "Let them be," he said. "They... must choose their own path."

"They could be killed."

"That may be."

Sakura made a noise of exasperation.

"My lady?" Dija asked, her attention moving away from Sakura and the oni mage.

The princess was coming forward. She was with Mika. "What's going on?" she asked. "Why is everyone going the other way?"

"There's heavy fighting on the hilltop," Dija said before Sakura could get a word in. "Can't you hear it?"

She simply nodded when the princess glanced toward her for a second explanation. Suddenly a deep pang of fear tore at Sakura. She almost sobbed then and there. She felt dizzy, her throat beginning to feel ticklish and tight.

She swallowed, warding the emotions away. _Everything will be fine._

Hiun cried out suddenly. The princess yelped and Mika grabbed her by the arm as Sakura whirled toward the mage. He was lying on the ground, a bloody gash in his forehead. Sakura's eyes jerked wide. She ran to him, her knees skidding into the grass beside his fallen form. "Hiun? _Hiun?!_ "

"Do not go to him!" a voice commanded.

Sakura froze. Turned to meet that voice. It was the huskiest, most carrying command she had ever heard. It almost sounded like it came from more than one place.

What she saw was...

"What in the name of the gods is that?" Mika asked from behind her covered mouth.

_Just what I want to know,_ Sakura thought.

Dija spoke. Her tone was flat. "A hurg."

"Hurg?" Sakura asked. She had heard of them before, but never saw one before.

Was there not supposed to be an ambassador from Hurgora at the palace last night? She had only seen what they looked like in oil paintings. It was different seeing one in the flesh. It was... she felt threatened, the emotion heightening when she realized Dija's fingers were curled, her claws protruding even farther than Sakura had seen them a few moments before.

"Why is he not throwing more stones?"

"Because there's nothing we can do, fool girl!"

The hurg, tall, thick-necked, so thick-necked in fact that it hardly had a neck, came close enough to speak with them. His yellow eyes roved about them. "Listen to the cat eye. I have no need to kill anyone else right now."

_He's not dead,_ Sakura thought. She could feel the life inside of Hiun. _Best to let this hurg think he's dead..._

"What do you want?" Sakura asked. "Why did you assault us?"

The hurg said nothing, only walked toward Princess Noriko, his booted footfalls implacable and inexorable to their hostile stances.

Mika rushed to bar his way from the princess where Dija already stood protectively.

This hurg was well dressed, wearing a high-cost cut of leather breaches, a green brocaded doublet with gold buttons and leather gloves tanned black and polished to a high sheen like his boots. He didn't so much as pause in reaction to the hostile movements of the two maids, both showing signs of martial arts training.

"Princess," Dija said, her voice low and brooking no argument. "Run."

" _Run?!_ " a new voice—incredulous and mocking—asked from behind them.

Sakura glanced over her shoulder. There was a small woman there, a curled whip in one hand, her attire a close fitting bodysuit, the sheen making it evident that she wore silk with a heavy half skirt adorning her ample hips.

"Oh, I don't think so!" the little woman continued in a thick local accent of the region. She giggled before lashing her whip with a crack. The tail end wrapped around Dija's wrist and the cat eye hissed viciously. Without fretting, she yanked for leverage against the attack.

Sakura's heart nearly leapt out of her chest as she jumped back. She landed in the grass on her rump. Mika unsheathed a small dagger as Princess Noriko yelped, covering her face with her hands.

Dija continued her contest of strength with their new attacker, causing the woman at the other end of that whip to grit her teeth and pull back. "Yield to me, she cat!"

"Come closer, little girl," Dija growled, "so I can scratch your pretty face!"

"Enough!" the Hurg said, voice booming. When Mika attempted to strike him, he simply knocked her aside like a bundle of wheat. She grunted and fell into the grass as the hurg bent forward and scooped the princess up over his shoulder.

"Stop! Let me go! Dija! DIJA!"

"Silence," the hurg commanded. "Yuko, we have what we came for. Let us depart."

Sakura was still on the ground. She hadn't bothered to get up because there was nothing she could do against either of their foes.

The woman called Yuko sniffed at the command given her as she yanked harder on the whip, but when Dija began to pull her from her spot between the trees, growling and uttering curses along with all the ways she would inflict pain on the woman, but Yuko finally desisted, slackened her whip and pulled the weapon free.

She backed away into the trees, coiling the long sinuous weapon as Dija ran for the hurg. She moved fast, evidentially intending to sink her deadly, fully distended claws into him, but he sidestepped, turned halfway and punched her in the face.

Everything shook. Sakura felt dizzy.

The maid yowled as she landed on her back, furred hands reddening from the wound she had just sustained.

Sakura, now safe from their fleeing attackers, scrabbled back to the oni and bent over Hiun. She assessed the damage he had taken, her hands shaking like leaves in the wind. She realized that he was awake, his eyes blinking.

"Umm..."He head wasn't working. Hiun seemed dazed.

"I... believe I was attacked...?"

"You were," Sakura said, noticing the drops hitting his cheek. When had she started crying? "Just stay still."

After assessing the damage, which wasn't as much as she had initially thought it would be, she invoked her healing magic, infused it into the oni with both of her hands on his neck.

The gash on his forehead knitted, the blood their scabbing. Hiun breathed in sharply, feeling the sting of the sudden grown of knitting flesh.

"I feel... energized," he said.

That was good. Sakura took her hands from his neck. "That's because I gave you some of my energies."

"Oh."

She leant back as he sat up and nearly blacked out.

"Are you... well, little mage?"

Sakura rubbed her temple, nodding through the dizziness. Her vision came to.

"They... took her," Mika said. "We have to do something!" She was still nursing her side.

Sakura was going to go to her, but Dija needed her more. She got up with Hiun's help and moved to the cat eye's side. The maid stood still, eyes glazed. Her mouth and surrounding fur was bloodied, and in her right hand between thumb and forefinger was a large curved tooth.

"Dija!" Mika exclaimed. "We have to do something."

"There is nothing we can do, child. Can't you see that?"

Sakura took the tooth from the cat eye, garnering her attention. "I can heal you." The cat eye grunted, seemingly unconcerned. Sakura bent forward, the tooth in her hand. "Open your mouth."

Dija growled stubbornly.

"Just do it, Dija," Mika ordered.

Dija obeyed, sullenly and Sakura stuck the tooth, root first back into the gaping wound in the cat eyes gums. She squirmed a bit, but otherwise took the pain quite well.

Sakura didn't have to invoke very much energy, just enough to feel that she was being drained before she stopped.

Dija put her bloodied paw up to her face, massaged her tooth through her closed mouth. "It is better. Thank you."

Sakura nodded, her heart still pounding inside her chest. "It'll be loose for a time, but it should heal all right." She felt so exhausted, she just wanted to sleep now, but the day wasn't even close to being done. Something cold touched her back.

"It's raining," Dija said, a sour look crossing her already sour expression.

Sakura looked about for the group. Everyone was gone. She jumped when she saw the armored men coming down the hill, swords unsheathed.

" _Run!_ " she screamed, pointing at them.

## The Failed Mage

Her sword came in for the strike, but Lawrence ducked, the branch above him falling to the ground as he jumped back. He nearly lunged another of his last precious fireballs at the ground in front of the knight, but thought better of it when he realized she was on her guard against such an occurrence.

_I can't strike her directly,_ he thought, remembering how she had deflected his previous three fireballs, all aimed directly at her.

Fortunately he realized how she moved now. Quick lunges, jumps, and very fast sword strikes, but general prolonged motion was taxing. It obviously had to do with her armor.

"I'll admit, you're harder to kill than I thought you'd be," she said.

Now holding his ground, his arms raised and the runes in his forearms burning brightly, Lawrence said, "That implies I am indeed, going to die here today."

"You are."

He sniffed at her surety. "Why?"

"What do you mean why? You're my enemy. I kill my enemies, mage."

Something was amiss here. This woman did not seem like a mercenary hired on by Hukama. The very notion that she could be a hireling had offended her just moments ago. "Do you call me your enemy because I use magic and no other reason?"

She looked at him, a confused expression touching her lips, though he wasn't entirely certain that's what he was even seeing, since her eyes were hard to make out behind her winged helmet.

He added, "You're not with Hukama, are you?"

Now she was certainly confused. "Who _are_ you?"

"No one of consequence," he said.

"Refuse to give me your name, then?"

And she acts like a knight as well.

"Lawrence," he said. "Lawrence Cazwick."

Her battle-ready stance softened. "The same 'Lawrence Cazwick' who serves the royal Miho family of Omosaku?"

"Served," he said. "We lost our final battle with Xai Qi just weeks ago. I escaped."

"Of course you did, _mercenary._ " She practically spat the last word at him.

The failed mage wanted to respond to that implied accusation of cowardess and treachery, but he saw no point in it. The knight probably wouldn't believe him anyway.

"What, no challenge to my words?"

"Well," he said, feeling quite sassy again, "apparently I'm going to be dead in mere moments anyway, so I've decided not to waste my breath."

She chuckled. "Then I'm glad we're on the same edge, master Cazwick. Now prepare yourself!"

And like a knight, she had just warned him of her intentions to attack him.

"Wait," he said, putting his palm forward. She reacted, and he realized he was pointing a deadly weapon at her, so he lowered his hands. "You're not Hukama's man," he said. "Why are we fighting?"

"Aren't _you?_ Hukama's man?"

"No, I'm not."

"Are you lying?" Her question came as a sneer.

## The White Feather

She was in an alley, squatting with her palms resting above her knees and panting. He was using magic or some arcane sorcery. Somehow the Sword of a Thousand Suns always knew which way she had gone.

How does he know?

She couldn't escape him. Every time Haku thought she had lost him, he turned up again. Once he had nearly cut her in half in a surprise attack. She was in this alley now just resting for a quick moment.

Had he been an archer rather than a blade master, surely she would be dead now, skewered in a street somewhere lying in a puddle of her own blood.

She stood up, looked about for any signs of her enemy. He was nowhere to be seen, yet she knew he wasn't far behind. He was faster than she was. If not for her ability to glide across the rooftops, surely he'd have caught her by now.

To keep him from gaining on her, she had run across the rooftops taking erratic courses, then she moved to street level and did the same. So far it had a slight effect on his ability to keep up with her, but at this rate she wouldn't be able to escape the city and expect to stay ahead of him. The sword of a Thousand Suns would run her down.

_My only option is to tire him out,_ she thought, _or reach the emperor's army at the temple._

As it was, she had serious doubts about who would run out of stamina first. Haku's throat was parched. She stopped next to a fountain for a moment to drink a few mouthfuls of water and then move on. She jumped atop a terrace, then to another, and then another, until she reached the rooftops, changed her direction of travel, and began to run, glide, run, flit and run.

She was nearing the Western Temple, the army at its base a mass of moving soldiers indistinguishable from their individual forms. The temple itself wasn't visible for the fog.

Perhaps I can lose him in that.

Directly behind the mountains were dark rainclouds. Finally some of the fires in the city would be put out. Hopefully that would presage the end to this sudden attack on Yukai City.

Instead of heading straight for the temple, she decided to go west and skirt through the foothills to avoid the enemy army camped at the base of its perch atop the plateau.

As she soared across the open space to another roof, she saw a small group of samurai interspersed with city dwellers fighting some enemy agents. She doubled back, glided from the rooftops like her reputation bespoke and landed behind her ally's foes and cut them down. One turned, tried to defend himself, but her blade ended him before he could bring his own _katana_ to bear against his sudden attacker.

The samurai gasped, the other non-warriors had clubs and sticks, one had a large knife. They were afraid. Two of them were dead in the street.

" _Arigatou_ ," one of the samurai said with a bow, a balding man with a long beard and shaved cheeks. "I am Omo. I serve _Daimyō_ Karu," he said. "We've been trying to find our lord, but we cannot." He bent to use the sleeve of a fallen foe to wipe his blade.

Haku did the same and together they sheathed their sabers with clean, fluid movements that bespoke their warrior skills, except the White Feather was distinctly lacking the daishō, the katana-wakizashi pairing. She was not a samurai, and so she had no short blade to accompany her sword.

"I'm on my way to the temple," Haku said. "I'm being pursued, so I cannot linger. If you head in that direction for the warrens you will find _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi. He can use every able bodied fighter he can get. You're useless out here on your own."

Omo nodded stoically, glanced toward his samurai companions and then said, "We will head for the warrens then."

"Be careful, Omo- _san_ ," Haku said. "My pursuer will cut your group down without effort."

The samurai was taken aback. "Truly?"

"It is as I say. Avoid him. He will not pursue you since he is after me."

"We will."

"I must warn you, he has dozens of samurai and ninja under his command. I would avoid them by taking this road several blocks before changing direction. Be wary. The enemy is all over the city."

"Thank you, lady," he bowed respectfully.

Clearly he knew who she was, but she was known as the White Feather, not Haku, her birth name, which she tried to keep as private as possible.

She nodded and set off, leaping to a balcony, and then to another as she got more and more height before reaching the tiled rooftops. She had lost valuable time in aiding those men and directing them where to go.

_But it was worth it,_ she told herself honestly. _I hope Ujio is all right..._

## The Dancer

" _She was taken?_ " the dark-haired knight asked, eyes wide with the apparent shock of discovering this.

Upon reaching them, Hans had recognized Dija immediately and halted their advance. At first he had thought she and Sakura were prisoners, until Dija explained the situation. As soon as he had allowed—to Dija's apparent rankling—she sent Mika off to stop the group that was currently fleeing back down the mountain.

"That _is_ what I said," Dija drawled, not looking at him.

"Then we must move quickly. We may be able to catch them before they escape."

"Don't bother," Dija said. "You'll never catch them wearing all that. But I may be able to."

_Surely she doesn't blame herself,_ Sakura thought. _There was nothing Dija could do to stop them._

"Then why aren't you after them now? Why do you linger?"

"And do what," she hissed, "get punched in the mouth again? Follow them now, follow them soon, it makes no difference."

"How is that?"

"No time to talk," Sakura interrupted. "Right now your captain and our ally are in combat, are they not?"

Hans looked disconcerted. "Indeed," he said. "He barked at his men to head back up the hill and stop the confrontation. They moved gracefully for men in plate, but were incredibly slow.

Feeling fearful for Lawrence's life and frustrated at this massive misunderstanding with the envoy's retinue, she hiked up the hem of her kimono and ran up the hillside as fast as her legs could carry her, which was much faster than those knights, and besides, dancers had strong legs!

_Faster,_ she chided herself. She wasn't going to let Lawrence get killed. Especially not from the blade of one of their own allies.

So stupid.

## The Failed Mage

He was expecting the attack, and yet he let his guard down as he hoped she would listen to him. Lawrence parried the quick strike, with pure magical energy, a massive blow that would have sheared him in half. How it had that much strength behind it, he didn't know. Again, he suspected the knight's armor.

The attack had sent him backward where he rolled into a heap. Before he could recover, the next attack was upon him. The knight screamed a battle cry as her blade missed him by a mere hair's breadth.

He gasped. _I'm completely drained of magical energy,_ he thought. _That last parry took everything I had._

Of course, he didn't allow the knight to know that, maintaining his battle ready posture. "The next time you do that, I vaporize you."

The woman relaxed her guard. "How, when you have no magic left?"

His eyes widened involuntarily. "How do you know I don't have any magical energy left?"

"I'm a Knight of the Purging Flame," she said. "You know that, even if your views of us are decades outdated. Whoever called us... _that_ anyway?" She asked the question with a note of incredulity and scorn, referencing his use of the title _Flamma_ _Purigare._

"I've been away for a while."

"It appears so."

"So aren't you going to kill me now?"

She chuckled. "Why? You're more useful to me alive."

"Not as useful as you might think—"

"Stop!" a voice called. They both turned to regard the woman, the knight more wary than Lawrence.

Is that Sakura?

She was with Tomiichi, helping him walk as he had a hand held up to his forehead where some blood was.

"Stop!" Sakura called again, hurrying Tomiichi along. She was huffing. She left her brother, who slunk down to the ground and came close, nearly between them. "Stop fighting."

"Stay back, whoever you are!"

For her own protection Lawrence didn't want Sakura near them when the knight might strike again. With her skills and abilities he doubted she could accidentally kill Sakura, but to be safe he motioned for her to take a back step. She did.

"Listen," the dancer said, holding up her hands. "Your men are just over the hill. They're on their way. They're going to tell you the same thing."

"Is that so?" Her question came as a demand, her fingers tightened around her sword hilt, blade tip aimed at the sky.

"Yes."

She sniffed, looked at Lawrence suspiciously. She seemed to be considering the prospect. "Fine." But to the failed mage she pointed a finger. "Don't move, or you die, mage."

He said nothing, didn't move until the other five knights were with them. "She's correct," one of them confirmed. "Lady Noriko's handmaidens are below the hill. They're with us, Captain. On our side."

The Knight Captain narrowed her eyes. "Very well." She sheathed her sword and walked toward Lawrence. "I nearly cut you in half. My apologies."

"I had a plan."

"Indeed."

"Are you... are you two exchanging quips?" Sakura asked as she looked between them, her mouth parting with incredulity.

"Never," the knight said. "By the way, my name is Liandra Arduani. I'm the Knight Captain Commander of the Winged Blades from the Order of the Purging Flame, envoy to Emperor Kurosawa."

"I'm sorry," Lawrence said. "Wait for a moment while I chew on that for a time."

Liandra rolled her eyes. "We were at the palace when the attack began. We barely got him out alive."

"Wait," Sakura said. "You're the ambassador?"

"Envoy. What of it, little girl? Wait, weren't you in the performance evening last?"

"Captain," Hans interrupted. "We have to go after them."

"After who?"

"The Princess," he said.

"Princess Noriko was captured by enemy agents not a few moments ago," Sakura said. "They retreated in that direction. There was a... hurg."

Recognition and fury shone on Arduani's face. "And how do you presume we catch them?" she asked, skepticism clear in her voice as she rested one hand on her sword hilt and the other on her armored hip. She was a tall woman, almost as tall as Lawrence, but with her booted heels, they were of an even height. How she managed trudge through the forest, much less fight in those boots, he didn't know.

"They weren't moving fast," Mika said, coming up to the group. "One of them... the _hurg..._ carried her away. He only had one ally with him. We can catch them! Dija is already tracking them down.

"Dija? The cat eye?" Liandra asked.

"Yes," Mika said. "She'll be back soon to tell us where they are."

"Never could get along with that stubborn woman," the Knight Captain muttered. "Very well," she said. "Hans, you're with me. The rest of you men stay with this group and protect them." Then to Lawrence she added, "What are you doing?"

He looked at her. "Do you expect me to sit here on my hands?"

"This isn't your affair," Liandra said, her voice cold and authoritative.

"It was because of him that we made it this far," Sakura said, turning from where she nursed her brother. He stood up, seemingly fine. She must have healed him, though the dried blood still on his forehead bellied that fact.

"He also got the princess taken."

"Actually..." a soft-spoken man said, and Lawrence turned to regard the oni mage as did everyone else. "...had you not interfered here, it is likely that our magician friend would have stopped them... possibly."

"And you are?" Liandra asked as she practically glared at the oni. "Another blasted mage?"

Lawrence actually saw her posture shift. Not in a threatening way, but not far from it.

"Indeed," he said, "Of a sort... My name is Hiun."

The Knight Commander, standing tall in her boots, turned her attention to something one of her men was saying. Then she said, "All right, we're heading out. If we move now we can catch them in an hour or two, but it's going to be a hard run."

Lawrence moved to go with them but stopped when a hand clasped his shoulder. "I can get you there quicker," Hiun said quietly.

"Why not tell them that?" He gestured to the Knights of the Purging Flame.

"Yes," Sakura said, walking up and making sure not to be too loud when she sensed Hiun was trying to remain unobtrusive.

"Hmm... I sense our good Knight Commander doesn't cooperate well with our sort."

"Our sort?" Lawrence asked. "Magickers you mean?"

"Indeed."

"I see."

"So what is your plan?" Sakura asked. " _Ro-rensu_ can't take that hurg and his accomplice by himself." She looked at Lawrence. "Can you?"

"I don't think I can take either of them right now," Lawrence said. "My magical energy is completely drained. A sack of potatoes would be more useful to you right now."

"Then why are you going with them?" Sakura asked.

"I have to do something," he said.

"All right, we're off!" Liandra called. As per her orders, her knights stayed behind with only Hans following behind her.

_At least she's not contemptuous of others,_ Lawrence thought. _She left most of her knights here to protect the group to her own potential peril._

That was a noble deed he had to recognize. Or perhaps she simply had too much confidence in her own abilities as a warrior? Either way, the group now had some protection other than three men with only two pikes between them.

"Where are the prisoners?" he asked.

"Brendan has them," one of the knights said, gesturing.

Lawrence nodded, thankful for the help. He turned to Sakura's brother. "Are you all right, Tomiichi?" he asked as the man walked forward. He was still rubbing at his forehead, apparently trying to get the blood off. Lawrence could tell that Sakura looked quite the worse for wear.

"Yes," Tomiichi said with a nod.

"And you?" Lawrence asked Sakura. " _Daijoubu desuka?_ "

"Uh... _watashi_ —me? _Hai._ "

"You look... quite—"

"I'm so tired," she said. "Before Tomii I had to heal Dija and Hiun." She glanced toward the other mage, or whatever he was. "How are you, our oni friend?"

"I'm feeling quite myself, actually. Your healing abilities are extraordinary." He gave Sakura a friendly nod, then changed the subject. "I have some magical stores I can impart to you..."

"You should rest," Lawrence said, addressing Sakura. He didn't want her to over exhaust herself.

Could that be dangerous for her?

"Lawrence," Hiun said. "I can restore your depleted magic, but getting you to where the Princess' captors are may be somewhat more difficult."

"What can we do to help?" Sakura asked.

Hiun looked thoughtful. "We can begin by... gathering the necessary materials to perform a rite."

"Like before?" Tomiichi asked.

"Indeed. Like before."

He had no idea what that meant, but he assumed "like before" had meant the magic that had been used to move them outside of the palace. "Tell us what we need to gather," Lawrence said. To Sakura, he added, "And you, sit."

# Chapter Nine—Noriko-sama

## The Handmaiden

Mika was waiting in the forest at the slope of the hill for Dija to return. The cat eye did, running through the forest at speeds far faster than any human could perform, and faster than most with magic could as well.

Her heart jumped.

"Did you find her?"

Dija came to a stop, breathing hard, or what passed for breathing hard with her race. "I have," she said. "Are the knights ready?"

"They already left not long ago."

Dija narrowed her large yellow eyes. "And the mage?"

"He's preparing to go after her with the help of Hiun's magic."

Dija walked past Mika. "Then I'm going with them."

She could have done more. She could have fought like Dija had. Instead she had been shunted aside like a doll that didn't want to be played with anymore. _It's my fault she was taken. I can't let them get away._

Mika clenched her fists as she turned to follow Dija. "I'm coming with you."

The older woman made a sound of acknowledgement. Normally she would be more protective of Mika, even if usually in an overbearing motherly way, but now their princess was in danger, and she needed all the help she could get.

## The Winged Blade

_Leave it to a mage to get the princess caught,_ she thought as she ran between two trees and through a bush. Hans kept pace as they pursued the princess' abductors. Tracking them wasn't hard, though Liandra could only make out one set of footprints. That of a the hurg.

The Knight Captain Commander had warned Emperor Kurosawa's guard of the dangers he had posed to their ruler, but her warning were brushed aside with a near hostility—as if _she_ were being unreasonable.

Fools.

"We're getting close," she called to Hans. They were both breathing hard, and they couldn't move fast at prolonged speeds. Somehow Lawrence knew that. Had he fought the Order before? She found herself narrowing her eyes.

They rushed up the base of a small hill, and when they crested it, Liandra spotted the hurg, the princess still slung over his shoulder like a sack of wheat.

"Halt!" she called.

The hurg stopped, turned to face them. He obviously knew he wouldn't outrun them with the girl on his back, assuming he could outrun them without the added weight. Like them, hurg weren't overly fast on foot, but they could strike or lunge with great speed or keep up a demanding pace for hours.

The frog-faced hurg glanced at her for a moment, then dropped the princess in the grass. She squeaked, made to move, but he grabbed her by the arm and told her not to. He didn't let go until she nodded her ascent.

"Yuko, where are you?" he called, voice deep and booming over the hills.

"Be careful," Liandra said out of the side of her mouth. She didn't need to warn Hans of what. They both knew that a hurg could shout them into a heap on the grass.

The hurg walked forward, as did Liandra and Hans.

"There's another out here somewhere," Hans said, unsheathing his sword with a metallic hiss.

Liandra looked about. It was good ground to fight this foe, but if there was another hiding in the area, lying in wait for a surprise attack like some slinking savage, things were going to be a lot more difficult.

_And dangerous,_ she thought. _But knights of the Purging Flame are no strangers to danger._

"We'll just have to fight this hurg together and keep our eyes open for the other attacker," she said in answer, then drew her own sword. She addressed their opponent now. "Hurg. Stand aside. We'll be taking the princess back with us. You can be on your way."

His yellow eyes regarded them. His teeth, some of which were visible even though he kept his mouth closed, were highly polished, not the usual yellow of most hurg who did not have the same customs of cleanliness as most civilized races had.

He gestured, surprisingly docile and civilized. "Unfortunately I am under contract, so I cannot allow that to happen."

"That's right. You're the assassin who tried to kill the emperor. You're no battle hurg," Liandra said, her eyes catching the rainfall in the pond at the center of the depression. It was large enough for a small grove, the surrounding hills proving excellent cover for a potential base camp.

"No," the hurg said. "I am not." He slung a leather satchel from his side to his front and removed some objects. They were bracers. He slipped one on, belted it. And then the other. The bracers had red-steel knuckle guards and blades that jutted from the wrists to past the elbows. They tapered off into wickedly curved points.

Their foe repositioned his feet into a battle stance, his arms raised and fists clenched, ready for close-quarter martial arts.

"Whatever you do," Liandra said, "don't let him near you."

"I will now give you one chance to sheath your swords and walk away," the hurg said.

Liandra sniffed, feeling a certain outrage at his words, quite similar to her own uttered just moments ago, she noted. She introduced herself, though left out the part about the Order of the Purging Flame. "Now tell me your name, so that I can speak of how I bested you in this battle."

His mouth parted, white teeth deadly sharp and ominous. His eyes narrowed. "I am called Urhaggha. Formerly of the Urghamahn."

_A highborn hurg of the highest degree,_ she thought. _Very interesting._ She almost wanted to sit down and speak with him. "And now you're a hireling?"

"I much prefer the term 'contractor,'" he said. "Hireling has an air of cheapness that I would prefer not to sully my reputation with."

"Very well," Liandra said. "Shall we fight, Ur...?"

"Urah," he suggested, making his name easier.

"You're very polite for a hurg, Urah."

"Indeed," he said. "I wish to be civilized, and so I am, Knight Commander Arduani."

Of course he knew who she was. He had been the assassin who had nearly killed Emperor Kurosawa. He probably had detailed pages on many of the people at the palace last night. "Most interesting. Then I will endeavor to give you quarter should you ask for it."

"The sentiment is most appreciated, knight, however honor is not within my realm of propriety, as I am a contractor and do not have that luxury. I thought you should know that before we begin."

"Very well," she said. "Shall we fight, then?"

"Indeed."

Liandra widened her stance as she tightened her grip on her sword hilt. She nodded to Hans, who began to encircle their foe as she moved forward.

## The Failed Mage

"Everything is... prepared," Hiun said, stepping away from the items they had procured. Some of it required blood, of which Sakura replenished with her healing magic afterward before anyone could object. When it came to helping others, she certainly didn't wait for permission.

The oni mage drew a circle with a stick he had procured and scratched out a large circle accompanied by many other runes as he began to mutter invocations. Now if anything was worthy of skepticism due to involvement with the darker arts, it was this sort of magic.

_It's a good thing the Knight Commander isn't here,_ Lawrence thought as Sakura moved up beside him. "I'll be here waiting in case you need me," she said. "I'm a dancer, not a warrior. I'm useless to you in a fight."

He nodded. "Thank you. But hopefully it won't come to that. With Commander Arduani and Hans there, we shouldn't have a problem taking that hurg down to rescue the princess."

" _Ro-rensu._ He seemed..."

"What?"

"Dija and Mika didn't even seem able to fight him," she said, "and they tried. They were like... like gnats to him."

"I'll be careful."

She looked about. "Where are they?"

"I told them I would need a medallion for our coming fight, and to find something of the sort for me from among the refugees."

Her eyebrows rose. "Did you lie to them?"

_Of course I did._ "Yes. It's for their own good."

"Where is Ishi?"

"He's..."

She nodded. "Distracting them?"

He nodded.

Suddenly there was a loud noise, like an excited flame, fueled by magic. The bright light made them all squint and shield their eyes.

"It's open!" Hiun said, his voice louder than Lawrence had heard it so far since first meeting the mage, and it was still rather quiet. He stepped out of the circle of light, the runes spinning and writhing. "It will close soon."

## Maid-sama

She looked at the jewel in her paw. The woman seemed reluctant to part with it as Dija inspected it, wondering if this would serve for what the mage needed. Normally she wouldn't have run off to go do his errand, but they needed to save the princess, and anything to aid them in that task, she was willing to do.

"Here," Ishi said, bringing three more to her. "I found some more that might do."

When she reached out to take the jewels, Dija heard the portal open from over the hilltop. Instantly she knew what was happening.

She must have looked feral then, because her claws came out involuntarily, and the woman in front of her yelped. Even Ishi took a step back.

That lying dog of a whoreson!

"Mika!" she shouted, not bothering to look over the heads of the refugees to find the woman. She started up the hill as fast as she could. "NOW!"

## Ishi-kun

Ishi, watched smirking and near to laughing as the cat eye he had duped ran up the hill on all fours.

The other one, the human that Ishi liked looking at despite the fact that she was much older than he, came running through the trees moments later, a bewildered look on her face. "What's happening? Where is Dija?"

She glanced at him, her large eyes going from his feet across his body. Ishi pointed up the hill. "If you hurry, you might catch her."

As the girl ran, he shrugged. She wasn't as fast as Dija. Ishi felt a little bit guilty about tricking her— _Mika,_ not Dija—he didn't like the cat eye. Too fussy.

_She noticed,_ he thought. The expensive blue tunic he had borrowed must have really looked good on him. Lawrence wouldn't like that.

Smirking again, he slowly started to make his way up the hill after Mika, schooling his features appropriately. This situation was serious, but for some reason, Ishi was having fun.

It was too bad he hadn't got to see the hurg, and he had been furious when Lawrence told him to stay behind to "be the distraction," but the boy wanted more than anything to gain the mage's respect.

And besides. Being left behind with nothing to do, he might get to talk to Mika. But she was very worried, so he wanted to help her.

It was for the best that he had tricked her—like Lawrence said.

## The Failed Mage

Lawrence stepped forward. He didn't know what he was going to do to aid the knights, but he would think of something on the way.

"Before you go, my friend... take this." He grasped Lawrence's forearm, and magic was infused into him. He nearly flinched, as it felt like white-hot fire coursing up his arm for a moment before quickly cooling. His arm now felt chilled and tingly, the runes there glowing red as magical energy coursed through his body.

"I feel invigorated."

"Use it to fight," Hiun said. "Do not waste it. I fear I will not be able to use magic again for some time."

Lawrence nodded, gave Sakura and the others one last glance. Behind her, he caught sight of Dija cresting the hill and running as fast as she could.

"Close it behind me, Hiun."

Hiun glanced in Dija's direction. To Lawrence, he nodded. "I... understand."

"Oh," Sakura said. "She's going to be upset."

From the distance—"Damn youuuuuu!"—the cat eye snarled.

The failed mage smirked. "She'll be fine. But you," he said, almost sternly, "get some rest. Please"

"I will."

He glanced toward Tomiichi. "Look after her."

The samurai nodded.

Lawrence stepped into the portal.

## The Winged Blade

That damn hurg was fast. He had punched her in the breastplate, sending her flying into the pond.

Liandra growled.

She moved her legs, but she was up to her hips in mud. Hans was fighting Urah, barely keeping up as he lost ground relentlessly whenever he was forced to dodge the quick, ever distracting attacks from the small woman with the whip.

__ "Liandra!" Hans called.

She glanced at her captain. He was barely keeping up against the hurg's relentless attacks. She heaved her legs, moving out of the mire, but she barely made any progress. She screamed in frustration, slammed her fist into the muddy water. She was stuck!

How could this happen?

He called her name again. Just the one word. It told her what she needed to know. Hans was about to be cut down.

" _Godsdammit! Fight, Hans!_ Hans! Hans—I'm coming!"

She screamed, heaving as hard as she could, blood suddenly splashing from her face onto her mud-covered vambrace.

Her nose. It had...

She was distracted from the light. It was so bright she had to cover her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Hans?"

Purging Flame—what's happening?

" _Hans?!_ "

## The Failed Mage

The blinding light cleared and Lawrence lowered his hand. The failed mage found himself on a heavily forested hilltop overlooking a small basin with a flat center. There was a small, muddy pond at its center with intermittent small trees and other undergrowth spread about.

From where he stood he could see Hans and the hurg. Knight Captain Commander Liandra Arduani was chest deep in the pond, apparently unable to move, blood dripping down her chin. He made his way down the hill.

"Surrender, hurg," he ordered. "You're outmatched."

Hans backed away from his opponent toward Lawrence. Breathing hard and evidentially harried, he said. "There's another. He has an ally slinking in the trees. Watch out." Hans eyes were wide, almost wild.

Lawrence glanced about. He saw no one. "Are you and Arduani all right?"

Hans let out a long breath. "Up until now," he said quietly, "but we wouldn't have been for much longer had you not arrived, mage. Do not under estimate our foe."

Lawrence eyed the hurg. "Where's the Princess?"

The hurg said nothing, only tilted his head to indicate that the princess was somewhere behind him. After a moment he said, "Take your allies and go."

"Will you throw the Princess in with that bargain?"

The hurg sniffed. "Hardly."

"Then we're at an impasse."

"Very well. Then I'll kill you. I grow tired of this."

He started forward, heavy and lumbering and yet somehow graceful. It was odd to see. Lawrence called on his newly acquired stores of magical energy. He didn't want to waste them if he could help it.

"You wouldn't happen to have a spare blade, would you?"

"None," Hans said, raising his weapon in a defensive posture.

Liandra snarled, but Lawrence didn't turn his head until he heard her blade land into the soft mud at the water's edge, the metal humming. He wasted no time and went straight for the blade.

The hurg changed his course, attempting to cut him off. To keep him from doing so, Lawrence hurled a small fireball in his opponent's direction.

His foe rolled out of the way, giving Lawrence just enough time to make it to the Knight Commander's sword. He grasped it by the hilt, the mud and grit uncomfortable between the cold steel and his skin, but he ignored that and ran toward the hurg who was now defending against Han's deft sword strokes.

Lawrence came in from the hurg's left when something cracked and struck him in the face. He took pause, raising a forearm in defense.

"Look out, mage! There's a witch hiding nearby!" Liandra barked.

The failed mage wasn't fond of sudden strikes from hidden places. He turned his attention to the direction he was hit from and made his way forward, looking for his enemy.

He saw nothing among the trees and the small shrubs. "I don't see anything."

"Then keep looking!"

## The Dancer

Tomii had taken her back down the hill where the remaining refugees had gathered. She must have drifted off immediately after laying down, because she awoke, not knowing how long it had been. She looked about for Hiun, but didn't see him.

She yawned, stretching like a cat, and feeling like an old woman. Her family was gathered around her, watching over her. Yoko smiled and brushed a dried leaf from her hair.

"Sakura, dear," her mother said. "You're awake."

She nodded. "How long have I been asleep?"

"We didn't want to wake you. You need to rest."

"Not long, Tomiichi said. "Mother's right."

"We should go after them," she said and leaving the rest unsaid. It was immediately evident that the only person who might be swayed was Tomii. "They could be in danger."

"And what are you going to do?" Kaiya asked, scratch our enemies to death? They can fight without you."

"Indeed," her mother said.

"I'm not talking about fighting. They could be hurt." She turned, gestured to the five knights from the Winged Blades that Commander Arduani had left behind. "We have plenty of swords here to help them."

"They're fine," Hitomo said. "They can take care of themselves."

"But you weren't there when that hurg attacked us," she said. "I saw him. And his companion."

"Which is why you aren't going, Sakura," her mother said. Her voice was snappy, the way her mother spoke to her ten years ago when she was fourteen.

Kaiya made a sound of exasperation. "You're lucky to be alive."

Sakura looked about, saw Yumi there too, though thank the _kami_ she said nothing, but she was afraid. Still, she couldn't help but feel frustrated. "What, do I have two mothers, now?"

She sighed. She didn't have the energy to fight her family and friends on this. She gave Yoko a look. Her younger sister smiled. "They will be okay."

She had been so quiet these past two days. But her sister was fine—hadn't been hurt. It wasn't Yoko who needed help right now. It was Lawrence and the others, most notably the princess.

_I have to do something,_ she thought, glancing over at the five knights.

"I agree. We need to help him."

They all glanced toward the voice. It was Ishi, standing there with one of the spears in his arms.

"He's done nothing but help all of you."

"Yes," Sakura said. At least she had one ally. Perhaps the knights would be willing to help. But to endanger the group— _no that was stupid and selfish._

"We are _not_ going to get involved," her mother commanded. "How I raised such a belligerent daughter as relentless as you, I don't know." She looked to father for help, but he said nothing.

## The Failed Mage

Metal clashed against metal. Hans let out a battle cry amidst grunts of effort. Liandra's voice came from out of sight, assuring Lawrence that the woman was here.

"Lawrence," Hans called. "I can't"—he grunted—"take him by myself!"

The failed mage gritted his teeth, wiped his brow of blood and made his way to Hans through the shrubs and trees. He came up behind the hurg, who parried a sword strike from Hans that would have cleft any man in two, and left many others wondering at how fast the knight was.

He kicked the knight, sending him into a heap as he turned around to confront his second attacker. Lawrence came in high, his blade whistling through the air. The hurg parried with his bladed vambrace and shunted in for the kill, but Lawrence pirouetted from the blow that would have ended him and hurled a fireball between the hurg's feet. It exploded, dirt and fire spraying. Lawrence shielded his face from the blast with the rune-etched sword.

The hurg had not been so lucky. He shook his head, attempting to get the dirt and grime out of his face as Lawrence came in for another attack. His sword danced, but somehow every strike was deflected or dodged.

"Hans! Hans, get up!"

The knight grunted amidst another crack through the air from that second attacker. Lawrence hadn't the luxury to look toward the man while he was engaging this foe. Unseen, we was obviously highly skilled. Hukama apparently spared no expense when finding his mercenaries.

With the agile yet powerful hurg at the forefront and his hidden companion out of sight, they made a highly effective duo.

Hans grunted painfully.

"Captain," Liandra yelled. "Get up!"

Lawrence pressed his attack, the only thing he could do in this situation. Had he left off, the hurg would move on the offensive and the failed mage would be the one losing ground.

The hurg parried his blows, suddenly coming in for a counter attack. Lawrence jumped to avoid a devastating punch to his kneecap and hurled a fireball at his foe's head. Another arm came up in defense and the fireball exploded, sending Lawrence into an unintentional backflip. He landed on his stomach in the soft wet grass.

He recovered, lifted his face out of the dirt to look for his enemy. His opponent was on his back, moving sluggishly. If Lawrence could get up, this was his chance to finish the hurg off.

The Commander Arduani was grunting and screaming. She called out Hans' name over and over. Lawrence got to his hands and knees. His breathing felt shallow. He needed air. Was he burnt?

He examined the skin on his hands, touched his face. He felt fine. Well, not fine, but not burnt either, and he knew all too well what burns felt like even when completely numb. This wasn't that. The shock of the blast must have shook his senses.

"Lawrence!" It was Liandra. "You devil-begotten whoreson! Get up and save Hans!"

He staggered to his feet, turned, leaving his hurg foe alone to recover and made his way toward the captain, and then he saw her. That second attacker was a woman, some kind of witch. She was tiny and wearing the most beguiling battle raiment he'd ever seen.

Still recovering from the shock of his blow, he stumbled forward to save Hans. The woman didn't even seem concerned with what she was doing. She sauntered over to the captain, coiling her whip as if she were doing nothing more than walking out to the clothes line. Still on his hands and knees, face purple and eyes bulging, he reached for his blade, but the sword was just outside of his grasp. The coil was about his throat as tight as any wild beast.

The failed mage found some untapped vein of strength and ran toward them, growling curses. 'Get away from him!"

He hurled a fireball, but the woman sidestepped it.

If she thought she could do that, she wouldn't be able to sidestep one aimed directly at the ground where she stood.

So he did.

It exploded, sending Hans hurtling through the air. When the dirt and mud settled, there she was, standing ten feet away, as lithe as an acrobat. She had jumped, summersaulted through the air and landed as gracefully as a dancer in a beautiful pose one might see at the culmination of a performance.

Hans was on his back, face white, mouth open and fingers stiff, but grasping as if clawing desperately enough to get through rock.

Seeing the captain's sightless, dead stare, Lawrence screamed, hurtled a fireball at her. She jumped out of the way. He hurled another one, another and another. She dodged, sidestepped or outmaneuvered them all.

Damn you!

He slashed at her, but she jumped out of reach and landed on a large rock. Her head tilted and Lawrence turned, ready to turn that hurg into a pile of cinders, but it was Liandra.

She ran past him, jumped for the woman, but her plated vambraces only scrapped against the rock, her enemy already behind it as the knight commander hurtled backward from the force of the kick that she had taken her in the chest.

Lawrence rushed to her side, helped her pick herself up. Her face was red with fury. She screamed and spittle flew amidst the draining blood from whatever wound ailed her behind her helmet.

"Where's the Princess?" Lawrence muttered to keep their enemies from hearing.

Liandra was breathing rapidly, her chest heaving under her exquisitely-crafted plate. "I don't know."

He said nothing, only looked at her.

"She might be over there somewhere."

Lawrence moved past the Liandra. "Let's go!"

He rushed forward, Liandra's footfalls thumping in the wet grass behind him as he cut his way through the trees. He skirted around some large rocks and found the princess huddled by a fallen tree.

"It's going to be all right, Princess," he said as he put a hand on her shoulder, though he was careful to keep a wary watch on the surrounding terrain. With these rocks and trees, that hurg or his acrobatic witch companion could be anywhere.

Liandra came up behind them. "I don't see them."

"Princess," Lawrence said, getting her attention before speaking on. "We have to go—get you back to the group where it's safe."

She looked at him. Lawrence got the impression of a small child looking up at a parent. She sniffed then and nodded her ascent. He helped her to her feet. "Stay close," he added. "Don't leave our sides."

"Of course not!" she said through a hitch in her voice.

The knight commander seemed to linger for a moment. "I'm sorry about Hans," Lawrence said, and meant it.

"Let's go," Liandra said. "Now."

Lawrence nodded and they began to make their way out of the trees, away from the pond and rocks toward the lip of the basin.

"Look out," Liandra warned, turning around completely.

Something cracked. The failed mage turned, suddenly finding his right arm non-compliant, a whiplash of paint streaking around his wrist.

Before he could react, Liandra grunted loudly. Or was that the hurg? Either way, the next thing he knew, the knight commander was thrown body and armor clear over Lawrence's head and landed with a shunt of metal plates.

With one free hand, Lawrence hurled a fireball, but the hurg flinched from its fiery impact and grabbed his hand, interlacing his own massive fingers with his.

Lawrence cried out and the princess screamed as something in his arm made a cracking sound. And then the hurg's forehead was in his face and he was on his back, everything whirling before him.

His vision flecked with bright spots. It faded. All was dark. It pulsed again. Black and red, and white.

"Let's go!" a viciously loud voice croaked.

Who...? What's...

His thoughts were too muddled, like a blanket of thick smothering fog. __ Voices everywhere. Men, a woman.

His vision was blurred to oblivion.

Cold.

Water?

"No! Sakura, no!"

It was Tomiichi.

Darkness.

## The White Feather

The woods were dark. And quiet. They would have been still, except for the wind. The cool air felt like heaven's touch on this hot summer evening. Visibility was low as Haku glided through the trees, her feet hardly touching the ground as she pushed off after landing. Black clouds were sweeping in.

_I can lose him in the storm,_ she thought, _and make my way to the temple from the foothills._

She was very tired from her time spent evading the Sword of a Thousand Suns. The man was relentless. It irked Haku that all he really wanted was to test his mettle and add yet another defeated foe to his list. He was a very vane man. It disgusted her.

She found the muscles in her face tiring from the expression she was holding. She abruptly smoothed her features, already feeling less tired after spending the last few minutes gracefully gliding through the forest instead of running over rooftops.

She was heading up right now, and after the foothills leveled for a time, she came to a valley with a small pond. There were figures on the other side. It was hard to tell, but she thought she could make out a group of people, some of them wearing the distinct plate with the winged helmets.

It was Commander Arduani and her men. She jumped and glided across, her arms outstretched, her kimono flowing like the wings of a white swan. She landed with such grace that she was completely unheard by any of them.

Arduani saw her first, the woman's eyes widening behind her helmet. "Haku? Is that you?"

"Your eyes don't deceive you," she said. She schooled her features, showing only mild surprise to the princess' presence. "Princess Noriko?"

She nodded. "I'm... who are you?"

"No one of consequence, Highness," she said. "A servant of _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi." Her gaze landed on Arduani. "I must warn you. I'm being pursued."

The other woman responded immediately by taking one step forward, ever the tactician. "How many?"

"Just one," she said.

Arduani frowned. "Who is this single foe that you would retreat from so readily?"

"The Sword of a Thousand Suns."

Recognition showed on the other woman's features. After a moment she glanced at their other companions. "Who are these people?"

"No one," Arduani said. "Hangers on."

The woman who was kneeling next to an unconscious man flinched, her cheeks reddening as her face took on a determined look. The man on the ground, a mage by the look of him, awoke, distracting the woman in the silken black kimono from showing her indignation in words.

"Lawrence?" she asked. Haku could hear the note of caring there, different between the caring of a healer and her patient. "Lawrence, are you all right?"

An unbidden thought of Ujio came to her mind.

The man blinked, but Haku ignored them now and turned her attention to the envoy sent by the Order of the Purging Flame. "We should leave here."

"I agree," Arduani said. "We sallied forth from the temple to find an escape path, but it seems these hills are being watched by our enemies. It would be unwise to secret your emperor out this way."

"He's safe then?"

"Father is alive?" Noriko burst.

"Quite. But we're trapped," the Knight Commander said. "The enemy is camped at the base of the temple and they have their agents everywhere."

Haku nodded. "I know."

Princess Noriko breathed a sigh of relief. "And Masaru? Is my brother well?"

"Quite," Arduani said, barely looking toward the princess.

"That is well," Haku said, looking at Noriko- _sama_. To the knight commander she said. "We should regroup and head back to the temple with the refugees."

Arduani hesitated for a moment, but then she said, "Indeed," nodding as she glanced about the group.

## The Dancer

Lawrence was fine. Sakura hadn't used that much of her healing magic on him. But what little she did use still caused her a nosebleed. It wasn't the first time something like this ever happened. It just meant that she was exhausted and needed rest.

He looked at her, an accusing glare he seemed to be sharing with Tomii right now. "At least you're standing," she said as she and her brother helped him keep up with the others.

She felt wariness as if that hurg and his companion would attack them again. They would not. Not when there were so many here, surely?

"I'm going to scout on ahead," the woman called Haku suddenly said, almost causing Sakura to jump.

"We should stay together," Arduani said. On their way she had told the white-haired woman what had happened to Hans and who had attacked them.

"I feel we should know what we are walking into if danger is near," she persisted.

Arduani nodded and Haku left their group, running at a swift pace, her footfalls making almost no sound on the wet grass and twigs as she disappeared into the roiling underbrush from the storm winds fast approaching.

## The Courtesan

She was following, of course. She didn't mind traveling into the forest, but Urhaggha wasn't pleased. She could tell that much after seeing him brush his jacket for the fourth time. With the amount of gold he would make, why did he care? She certainly didn't.

She was unsurprised when Haku spoke to her from behind. Yuko knew how quiet the woman was and how she could glide about on the wind. Apparently she could be even stealthier than Yuko if she wanted to be.

"You are to allow the princess to escape," she said, her voice soft, yet carrying an air that this woman was not to be crossed. Not that Yuko would. "The plans have changed. Did you not know this?"

"Postponed?" Yuko asked as she turned to face the white-haired woman.

"Yes. " She walked forward two paces. "You and Urhaggha are to report to the _daimyō_ in the warrens so that he can give you orders on what to do next."

Yuko nodded. She had no qualms about being told what to do by the _daimyō's_ lessers. Not when she was being paid. "I will do as you say."

"See that the hurg does as well."

"As you say."

The woman called Haku nodded and flitted away through the trees. Yuko stared after her, even though the woman was gone.

# Chapter Ten—Siege of The Western Temple

## The Failed Mage

They had travelled steep inclines until reaching some level terrain, whereupon they crossed some narrow rope bridges and up a winding dirt trail and some stone steps until they reached the grounds of the temple. They were challenged by the scouts, but were let through easily when it was made clear that Knight Captain Commander Arduani was returning from her scouting foray.

The guards gawked at Princess Noriko, bowed and wished her well. One even jumped to his knees in reverence, tears in his eyes. Lawrence hadn't been there when the princess was taken away to see her father. He was too tired and Sakura needed looking after. He found a spare tent for her and her family and she was now resting. Lawrence was as well, though his tent was several rows away from theirs.

Is she sleeping, or is she worrying about something else?

Luckily her entire family and most of her friends were with her. Many could not say the same.

She had looked well-worn before they reached the temple, and though he hadn't seen it for himself, he heard from Tomiichi that she suffered a nosebleed, something that has only happened on one other occasion. Her family was worried, particularly her mother Yukio.

It seemed he was concerned for her wellbeing as well. _Is this why I can't sleep?_ he wondered. _Is there something between us?_

Of course, her family would never approve. He was an outsider, a mercenary.

He drifted off into much needed sleep amidst the patter of rain and the far off dinging of a blacksmith working his trade among the various other sounds of an encamped army during nightfall.

Before sleep completely took the failed mage, he remembered that he needed a new sword.

## The Failed Mage

Lawrence was nudged awake, his hand searching for the hilt of a sword that wasn't there, but when he came to fully, he realized it was only Ishi, nudging him wordlessly.

"What is it, boy? Why aren't you sleeping?"

"They want to talk to you." He motioned over his shoulder as if he were simply talking about one of his friends.

Pushing aside the covers, he asked, "Who is 'they'?"

" _Them._ "

The failed mage rolled his eyes in frustration. "That helps a lot." He pushed the tent flap aside to find two guards waiting for him, pikes in hand and wearing the house colors of Sakuraichi, checkered red and yellow diamonds with a waving line running down the center.

"Where do you want to take me?"

"Inside," one of them said gruffly.

He could take that tone with a sleep deprived Lawrence because he was in the middle of this camp with over a thousand soldiers just like him, but the failed mage stood a good half-head taller than he.

"Why?" he asked, deciding to be cautious. Who would want to speak with him right now, in the middle of the night? "Explain yourselves."

"Inside," the other said. "Now. Or we make you."

"Or I burn your face off!" the mage snapped and his runes came to life, glowing brightly in the darkness, hidden fireballs in his fists.

The two guards flinched.

"What is happening here?"

It was a woman. The guards jumped, turned and bowed to the woman with the white hair and kimono. She even had a _katana_. Lawrence must have not noticed before since he had been so dazed after taking a forehead bash from the hurg warrior that had tried to make off with the princess.

"We are sorry, Haku- _sama_!" the first guard who had given orders to Lawrence said. He bowed respectfully. "We were just bringing the mage in now."

She looked at them a moment. "That's fine. And the formality is not necessary."

" _Gomen._ "

Her eyes met Lawrence and they stared at one another for a good moment. "Are you coming or are we going to stand here?"

The failed mage let his magic energy dissipate. He barely had any. He would need to find some good quality fire later and absorb it. "Where are we going?"

"The council has convened," she said. "The emperor and the army are trapped here, and the enemy doesn't want to assault us. We're at an impasse and eventually the army will run out of food. About what will be done, it's still being decided, and you've been asked to attend the emperor's strategy meeting."

_It wouldn't be the first time I've been asked something like this,_ he thought. He was famous after all. At least in some circles.

"Who asked that I be there?"

There was a pause between them, then she said, "I did." He said nothing, but she must have seen the question on his face, because she added. "I saw how you fought that hurg and his accomplice. You're a good fighter and there are no other mages here to help."

He would have revealed that Hiun was a mage, but thought better of it. The oni man did seem to like his privacy, but then, his magic was of a noticeably darker shade. What with Knights of the Purging Flame about, he probably didn't want it to be known that he was even in the camp, assuming he actually _was_ in the camp.

It was common that mages would say they only had so much magic left, despite being energized enough to carry on a bit longer than they let on. Once a mage was fully out of magical stamina, things could become bad, so it was best to curb expectation.

These thoughts came to Lawrence as he wondered how Sakura and Tomiichi had found him. _They must have been sent by Hiun._

"Very well," he said. "Lead on."

## The Hurg Assassin

The _daimyō_ would not be pleased, but Urhaggha did his best. He couldn't help it if he and Yuko's actions were hampered by the sudden arrival of half a dozen Knights of the Purging Flame, warriors that were one step shy from monks of the sword. They were a higher breed of fighter.

He grunted in dissatisfaction. He was making excuses. Urhaggha hated excuses. _They're for weaklings, incompetents and..._

That was his Hurgoran customs speaking. As a civilized individual, the assassin would have to simply admit his failure, and then by doing so, allow other avenues of approach in completing the objectives assigned to him.

_However, Daimyō Hukama may not see it that way_. He stopped, halted by the forward centuries.

"Who goes there?"

"Urhaggha," he said. "I'm in the employ of the _daimyō_." He removed the leather-lined billet from the inner pocket of is doublet, now stained with mud and blood, unfortunately.

_There had not been time to prepare,_ he thought, still annoyed at the total ruination of his fine clothes.

The guard checked his billet, looked him up and down dubiously and then gave a nod. He turned, indicating that the guards behind him were to allow him and Yuko to pass. She would show her own billet, when she arrived. As of right now, she was nowhere to be seen.

Urhaggha stalked through camp, dodging soldiers and horses moving supplies up and down the narrow spaces between the hundreds of tents that lined the hills leading up to the main front where lord Hukama would no doubt be.

As hurg went, he was quite rich. Urhaggha could retire and never need to work for another coin again. He would buy new clothes, but he would still rue the waste of money. What he wore presently cost a small fortune by local standards. Perhaps he should have considered dressing in a local kimono. However, that would still do little to conceal his bulk.

He was a thin hurg, but even a thin hurg was powerful compared to the weakness of humans and most demi humans.

So far the camp was quite docile as no fighting beyond the occasional small skirmish had taken place. Each side was still feeling out the other, testing boundaries and defenses. Both forces were impregnable as things stood—the defenders unassailable because of the sheer steps required to assault the temple plateau, and the foothills equally impregnable due to the same inability to muster troops into an open fighting formation.

He made it to the front in short order, cold and wet and ready to sleep, but not before a boiling hot bath. It was the middle of the night, but like most habitually active individuals, Hukama would probably be awake poring over maps or possible strategies of attack. If not, he might be meditating or taking a quick nap. The man never seemed to sleep properly.

Urhaggha came to a raised platform with several tents and a trestle table that was situated near the river. Hukama's tent was alight and surrounding the platform were lanterns and guards on all four corners, attentive about the protection of their lord _daimyō._ Even ninjas slunk in the shadows.

He smirked. They had no idea hurg could see in the dark.

There were two samurai at the front, both stepped in his path. They knew who he was, but evidentially they didn't trust him, because they always seemed ready to pounce.

"Stop," the guard on the right said. He was clean shaven, the top of his head shaved. In the traditional fashion, he had a top knot. "State your business, _gaijin._ "

"I must speak with the _daimyō_ ," Urhaggha said in a low voice. He tried not to make it carry, but that was almost impossible for a hurg. At least, as far as human ears were concerned. Apparently they could also feel the heavy vibrations of hurg vocal cords as well. They often found it physically uncomfortable and disconcerting. Hukama, however, never showed any disinclination or discomfort to hear the assassin speak. "I have an urgent matter to report."

"You may tell us of this matter, assassin, and then we will relay it to the _daimyō_ should we deem it necessary."

Hukama had ordered that he have access to him at any time. The _daimyō_ was well aware of his reputation, and even though the work of an assassin was seen as underhanded, he did keep his promises, and one of those being that he would never work for multiple clients that had intersecting interests. He reminded the two guards of their _daimyō's_ orders. They shifted uneasily, looked at one another. One of them nodded ever so slightly.

"Very well. You can go in to see him."

Urhaggha stepped past them, their heads only making it up to his shoulders in height. He entered the tent to find Hukama alone, and as usual, studying his maps. The night was chilly for human standards because of the rains and the breeze, so there was a crackling brazier in the corner.

There had been heavy rains, but they had let up. The night was much calmer with a promise of further storms as thunder rumbled overhead.

Hukama looked up from his small table of which he was sitting cross legged at. "Ah," he said. "You look as if you've had an ordeal, Urah. Come." He motioned the hurg forward. "Sit and tell me what has happened."

He sounded more like a benevolent grandfather about to ask Urhaggha to sit on his lap rather than a powerful warlord of Kachiiwara. He saw no point in wasting time, and so without preamble, informed the _daimyō_ of what had happened.

Hukama looked about, caressing warmth into his hands. It wasn't cold enough for that, which meant he wanted something to do with them.

No longer the benevolent grandfather, Hukama glanced up at him. "I have to say, I'm quite surprised. Your reputation normally precedes you, Urhaggha, but so far you've failed me twice now."

Urhaggha was about to speak, but Hukama cut him off with a hand. The man was sharp of mind, but he seemed physically frail. Not sickly. No, he was quite healthy, simply frail of body, thin. "No need," he said, smiling. "What cannot be changed cannot be changed. I am certain circumstances simply did not permit you to accomplish your mission, and so I have another one for you."

"I'm willing to undertake anything you have," he said. Somehow he felt guilty for having failed Hukama. Perhaps Urhaggha respected him. Perhaps he thought Hukama would scold him, lash out. But he did not. He was an understanding man, and though he did not suffer incompetence, he had the discernment to know when a battle was simply lost because of the superior stratagems of one's enemies.

"Good," he said. "I wish you to go to the harbor in the peninsula. Take Yuko with you." He glanced about. "Where is that woman?"

Urhaggha shrugged. She wasn't his responsibility.

Hukama chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure she's here." His tone changed, a more serious note entering his demeanor. "You will go there and find Lady Markovila. She will inform you of our plans."

Urhaggha nodded. "Very well."

Before Urhaggha left the tent, the _daimyō_ looked at him. "Take a hot bath before you go. The _onsen_ is quite wonderful."

How did he know Urhaggha wanted that? He nodded. "Thank you."

He stepped out of the tent and went to the hot springs, otherwise known as an _onsen_ in the local language, as Hukama had just used. When he entered one of the cordoned off areas, all of the soldiers left, either out of fear or prejudice, he didn't care, all he wished was to be alone and to scrub the muck from his skin in the hot steaming bath.

As hurg went, he was quite civilized, more so than even most humans. Wealth afforded him such luxuries, but he was not afraid to get his hands dirty, so to speak, though physical grime he did not abide. He called one of the quartermaster's servants over and ordered that a fresh kimono for travel and fighting be brought to him.

## The Masked Demon

There were five of them. What few ninja he had left surged ahead as Muji and his group found the sewer exit. The lead ninja bent to one knee and formed a cup with his hands. The warrior behind him stepped into the handhold and was boosted up to gain a few latter rungs of extra speed.

It didn't take but a few moments for the ninja to make it to the top, whereupon he slid the cover over slightly, listened for enemy movement, and then upon finding none, removed the lid completely.

The chorus of the skirmish in the streets overhead washed into the sewers. After the ninja, Muji was the first to climb the later. He must have seemed slow and lumbering, but in reality he was simply massive.

He reached out, putting his elbows out to give himself leverage as he pushed himself out of the manhole. His samurai came directly behind him, one at a time. The pouring of soldiers into the back alley seemed monumentally slow when the streets a few _machiyas_ ahead of them were being stained with the blood of his warriors.

The alley was empty behind the enemy's front where they were defending against Sakuraichi's attack.

"Ten," one of the ninja counted, watching each man as he exited the sewers with the help of his comrades, who were giving them a hand to speed them along. "Forty more," the ninja added quickly, as if Muji couldn't count.

Once their forces reached fifty men in this alley, they were to attack from that flanking position. It would collapse the enemy's front. They were outnumbered, but fortunately this detachment of the enemy was cut off from the main force, so through superior tactics, could be destroyed.

"Twenty," the ninja counted. "Thirty more."

Muji paced. His men, waiting as he was, watching him warily.

The veteran of nearly a score of battles, the Masked Demon was more impatient than anxious. As soon as the ninja began to count down individual men exiting the sewer at forty one, Muji gave the order to march.

He exited the alley with forty one men at his back. The other nine would catch up. The enemy was wholly unprepared for their flanking maneuver, but Muji stopped as he noticed the silhouettes of enemy archers on the rooftops. He turned, found his four ninja close by, slinking in the shadows, as was their element, and simply motioned with his hands, indicating the enemies they were to kill.

The black-clad warriors wasted no time. They lurched toward the buildings, using anything available to climb, such as window depressions, drain pipes, even vine hangings.

Without waiting for them to take out their targets, Muji unsheathed his _katana_ , raised it into the air as he turned to his detachment. He motioned the correct hand signals and his men quickly formed a file two men deep.

As soon as his force was prepared for attack—an enemy archer slammed into the cobbled stones at his feet, a sickly crunch of bone and flesh—he gave the order and rushed for the enemy.

Before crashing into their flank he let out the most ferocious war cry possible, one worthy of the Masked Demon as his _katana_ shrieked through leather and scale and flesh in the dim light of the early grey morning.

## The Daimyō

Ujio Sakuraichi sat tall atop his horse, proud of every single one of his men. He could see the line of fighting from where he was. As soon as Muji rushed behind the enemy's line, he saw all that he needed to.

The _daimyō_ wheeled his horse back toward his new base of operations, an old _sentō_ bathhouse. The stacks were still smoking from two days ago when the establishment was abandoned.

He kicked his horse into a trot, the hooves sounding against the wet cobbles as his two captains followed. He needed to confer with them and the rest of his reporting scouts so that he could plan the next several steps.

The enemy, he had discovered not hours ago, was none other than the legendary general Hukama, known as the First Spear of Kachiiwara. Still outraged at this sudden attack, Ujio still felt a thrill rise inside him.

He stamped it out. As honored as he felt to be fighting the general these past days, they were vane emotions. Sakuraichi had an empire to rebuild.

_That should have begun with the death of Kurosawa,_ he thought, galloping to the bathhouse now. He reached his base of operations and dismounted, practically jumping off his horse.

One of his soldiers caught the reigns as he rushed into the building, found his men at the common room table looking over maps. "The enemy has been defeated."

His captain at the table looked up, nodded and allowed themselves to smile imperceptibly. But they were far from done. "We have much work to do," he added, not wanting his men to become arrogant because they had won a few skirmishes in back alleys.

"We have reports, lord _daimyō_ ," one of them said, bowing with respect.

Ujio unbuckled the leather strap under his chin and removed his horned helmet. "What is happening?"

"Our ranks have swelled to just under nine hundred men. We still have dozens of scouts and small teams of soldiers searching for any stragglers throughout the city."

"Also," the other man at the table said, "Hukama has become aware of our presence."

"Yes?"

"One of our ninja has reported that he is now utilizing the sewers in the northern districts near the sea. It will not be long before he has them completely occupied so we can no longer use them against him."

Ujio nodded. "Good."

"My lord?"

"Occupying the tunnels will require many of his men," he said. "The more of his forces we can engage throughout the city without the expense of lives gives us more of an advantage against him."

A wry smile crept to the bearded captain's face. "You are a wise leader, my lord."

"Hmm." He stroked his chin, looking at the maps. The vast majority of Hukama's forces were at the foot of the plateau summit, cut off from his command as they protected the emperor, but he still had many areas within the city that were well occupied and unassailable.

"What is our next move?"

"We have nearly a thousand men," he said. "We can wait. Wait for our forces to swell to a size large enough to challenge Hukama. Or we can be bold, strike now, or strike soon and surprise him. I do not believe that he yet knows the size of our forces."

"But should we fail," my lord, the bearded captain said, "Mikuma will be doomed."

"As things are, the empire is already doomed. If Hukama captures or kills the royal family, all is lost. The moral of our army will shatter."

"But the other _daimyō_ s—"

He interrupted. "The other _daimyō_ s are weak! I am the only one fighting. Where are the others? Do you see them? If you know where they are, hiding in their manors up in the mountains, tell me."

His captains remained silent. Finally Ujio added, "We attack soon. Soon or Mikuma will be lost, and we _all_ become _rōnin_."

## The Failed Mage

The rainclouds had dissipated enough to allow a faint blue to creep from the dawning horizon as the sun rose for a new day.

Lawrence was already preparing for the coming mission. It had been decided during the council session last night that the best course of action was to get the royal family to the harbor and safely on a ship so that the emperor could escape and return with his armies, which were currently out of the country.

The failed mage was tired. The council last night had been long and tedious. Fortunately he met the emperor and his son personally, was promised a hefty sum for his services by the royal treasurer, all under the disapproving eye of the Winged Blade— _the queen of the Winged Blades—_ he added in wry thought. _How could that be arrogant?_

Lawrence wasn't known as the Firebrand of the West. Well, okay, some people did call him that—but he never called himself that. He was simply Lawrence. Or sometimes to some, known as the Failed Mage.

_Am I jealous? That can't be it,_ he thought. _Though if I'm not careful, I'll end up building a reputation as Ecnerwal Kciwzac!_

He chuckled to himself and the quartermaster gave him an odd look. He ignored the old soldier and surveyed the swords. These were the best weapons and armor for miles, all of it good work by expert craftsmen.

Before him was an assortment of swords. Most of them the local _katana_ s, but there were some foreign weapons in the lot. He made his way to those. To the double-edged swords specifically. The long straight blades with the gleaming fullers and long cross guards appealed to him. The swords of the west were the weapons he had trained with and used all his life.

It seemed there were three of them. One was far too short, clearly a dirk rather than a proper sword. The second was too large for his style. Lawrence didn't use broadswords. He needed the ability to use a shield, or if he needed, fireballs.

The failed mage chose the sword with the half grip, the hilt larger than a one handed sword, but smaller than a proper two handed grip. He belted the tattered sheath to his hip and sheathed the blade. As the weapon slid into place it made a satisfying metallic hiss. It was by no means a masterwork, but it was quality steel he could rely on. That much was obvious.

"I'll be taking this one," he said. The quartermaster nodded vaguely and went about his other duties.

Amidst the sound of horses, chatter in the yard and the far off pounding of the smith, the failed mage looked down at his feet, wriggled his toes there. He still wasn't used to the idea of fighting in _waraji_ sandals. He never wore such footwear when in proper employ, but he'd lost his boots some days before fleeing to Mikuma with Ishi- _kun_. Boots were uncommon in these parts and he wore no armor, other than a leather cuirass over his kimono and also leather vambraces. They wouldn't protect against much, but it was better than being expected to fight in nothing but cloth. He might as well be naked otherwise.

He gave the quartermaster who wasn't paying any attention a final nod and headed out. Fortunately he was able to bathe beforehand. After the fight with that hurg in the valley, Lawrence had been covered in mud and his muscles ached. His bones had a deep chill from the cold rain the night before, but the hot bath set everything right. Except for being tired from lack of sleep, he felt rejuvenated.

_That's probably because of what Sakura did,_ he thought. _I should speak with her._

Clearly there was something between them. But her family would be an obstacle, not to mention this whole mess. But after this crisis was over, he would be a man of means again. A man of small means, but a man of means nonetheless. Perhaps he would buy an establishment with his payment and hire someone to run the place. He wasn't much for business. The failed mage sold his sword, but more importantly his magic. That was what he was known for.

He needed to speak with her before heading out. She probably wouldn't be coming along, though Hitomo and Tomiichi would be expected to do so. Prepared for what came next, Lawrence left the makeshift armory and went in search of Sakura.

_Oh wait,_ he thought. _It's far too early._

He would wait for a time. Perhaps after the sun was shining golden on the curved eves of the Temple. Then he would go to speak with the dancer who had been capturing his heart.

## The Dancer

"More," Kaiya said, pushing another bowl of the soft rice onto Sakura.

Her nose had bled after she had healed so many people the day before. She didn't think she had pushed herself so hard. She only healed some of them just enough to where she could feel her own energies being drawn from her body and into theirs. She hated being pampered, especially by so many people.

She was in the tent, and by the look of things, the sun was now shining in the yard after the rains last night. In the middle of the tent was a crackling hot brazier. She chewed the soft rice, practically drinking it as her family and friends watched, chatting quietly and occasionally offering her whatever comfort they could.

"Enough," she said. "I'm not dying." She got up and maneuvered her way to where Yoko was sitting, her hands atop her thighs. Sakura put an arm around her. "How do you feel?"

Her younger sister looked at her, smiled and nodded. "I feel good. But I'm scared." Sakura smiled encouragingly. "There's nothing to fear. We're with the emperor and his army is all around us. Don't be silly." To everyone else in the tent, she added, "Now that's enough taking care of me. You can see I'm fine."

"But Sakura—" Tomii began.

She cut him off. "I'm fine. _Daijoubu!"_

They all looked at her dubiously, but were distracted when Lawrence walked through the entrance. Their eyes, including hers, swept across him. There was a moment when no one spoke.

"What are you wearing?" Kaiya asked.

Lawrence raised a skeptical looking eyebrow as he surveyed himself. "Nothing."

Kaiya cocked her head. "Nothing? Because it doesn't look like 'nothing.'"

Sakura could feel her mother's disapproval from across the tent. Sakura wasn't sitting next to her friend, otherwise she'd have given the other woman a nudge to make her behave herself.

"It was what was available," Lawrence said. "What's wrong with it?"

"There's nothing wrong with it," Sakura said, standing from where she was sitting with her sister. "How are you feeling, _Roren-su_?"

"I'm quite well. Thank you." He looked at her for a moment, then greeted everyone, nodding to Hitomo and Yukio respectfully.

Why is everyone so quiet?

"Are you well?" he asked. "I forgot to thank you for what you did. With everything, I suppose I simply forgot in all the confusion."

She smiled without thinking. "I feel..." she hitched the quilt up higher onto her shoulders, realized what she was doing. "I feel much better. _Arigatou!_ "

Her cheeks were heating. Why were her cheeks heating? _Kami-sama!_ There were too many people watching. Why was she like this right now? She was a dancer, a public performer. Sakura shifted, trying to seem casual and unconcerned, all the while her mother's eyes were roving about, looking for something she could burst into flames.

She needed to say something instead of acting like a little fool.

"You still haven't told us why you're dressed this way," Kaiya said, still looking at him up and down. She made some faces, but Sakura could tell she was simply trying to get a rise. Out of herself or Lawrence, she couldn't tell.

He broke eye contact with her and turned his attention about the room. He seemed to be searching for something. Was he making eye contact with her father?

He seemed quite unconcerned, though Tomii had a strange look on his face. She couldn't read it. She wanted to ask what was going on.

Finally Lawrence broke the silence. "I'm going to the harbor. A sortie is being prepared to clear the way," he said in answer to Kaiya's question a moment ago. "It seems mages are in short supply in the emperor's army."

"I hope you're getting paid."

"Kaiya," Tomiichi said. "That's rude."

Lawrence smiled. Then he turned back to Sakura and asked her the last thing she thought would come out of his mouth. "Would you care to walk with me, Sakura- _san_?"

"Umm." She was taken off guard with the question. "Of course. I, umm..."

Oh wait.

She looked to her father. He nodded immediately, amidst her mother's crossed arms. Her heart jumped, but she was careful not to show too much outward excitement as she moved to her mat and slipped her _hiyori geta_ sandals on over her white, split-toed _tabi_. She wanted to smack that smirk off Kaiya's face, but it didn't matter, now.

Thankfully Yumiko hadn't said a word.

He swept under the tent flap, holding it open for her as he gestured that she go first. He followed, walking up beside her. She allowed him to lead the way, though they had to stop for a moment while a group of twelve or so samurai jogged past the tents as they made their way to the other end of the camp.

Neither of them spoke as they made their way to the gardens. Sakura's heart was fluttering harder than when she had to dance a full circle performance. She glanced toward him, but couldn't meet his eyes.

Instead, she looked about, to the beauty of the temple and the hills. Patches of sunlight moved among dark shadows. If not for the dark storm clouds hanging about, it would have been a wonderful summer day, but even so, the fragrance of so many summer flowers in bloom almost seemed dull to her senses.

"Sakura," he said.

"Yes?" she practically interrupted him.

He chuckled, stopped and looked at her for a moment. "I... Nakamura- _san._ "

"Call me Sakura."

He smiled. "Sakura. I'm not very good at this, so I'll simply convey my intentions to court you."

Her heart skipped a beat, but then she felt the inevitable downturn of disappointment. "Court me?"

The mage seemed somewhat confused for a moment. "Yes. I know it's not your custom, but I wish to further reveal to you my character."

Her cheeks were so hot.

"I think I know your character."

"Do you?" He turned, looking off into the mountains.

"I think so," she said. "I've been watching you."

"This gladdens me." He didn't turn to look at her. He picked a flower, more like pulled it up, snapping the stem at its neck by the bloom. He turned. "I may be well known, but I do have my detractors. You may hear things."

Her heart was beating so fast. "I don't care."

"Don't you?"

"Father and Tomii seem to think you're an honorable man." She stepped closer, trying not to swallow. "And I've told you... I've been watching you."

He smiled, picked a pedal from the flower head and flicked it away. "That's hardly an in-depth knowledge of what sort of man I am. We all have our outer characters—the reputations we're known by."

She stifled a giggle. "Is it you?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you wish to gather more knowledge about me, to get an in-depth look at _my_ character?"

His shoulders shook and they laughed together. "No." There was a long pause between them as they looked into each other's eyes.

If he comes in for a kiss I'll—

"No," he added. "Sakura. I want you to be mine." His words came out, not a gasp, but they were breathy. Or perhaps she was imagining it?

She found herself drawing in more air, their bodies close. "I... I don't think my mother would approve of our bodily distance."

Flinching slightly, he stepped back. Her body followed his, unwilling to accept that distance he now put between them.

I'm such a harebrained idiot!

"I don't know why I said that."

"Nevertheless it's true. Your father and your brother trust me."

"I trust you."

"Perhaps you trust too easily."

"You believe so? Then why did you draw me into this garden? _Ro-rensu_ , I've never felt this way before."

"Neither have I," he said. "Perhaps I'm a fool for wanting to court you first."

She sniffed, her mirth and mild incredulity evident in her own voice. "You're no fool." She stepped nearer to him, her fingers reaching for his vambraced forearm. "If you're a mercenary, you're a mercenary who sits in the council of emperors. You've fought battles. Lead defenseless people to safety at the risk of your own life. You've saved my life more than once."

"I've lost battles as well."

She smiled. He would tell her why he had reservations. "We all lose battles. You're not trying to lose this one, are you?"

He was so close now.

The mage grasped the flower in his hand. Not roughly, but hard enough to bend the delicate pedals there. "My motives..." He turned from her.

"Weren't wholly motivated by selflessness? By me?" She asked the questions too sharply. She softened her tone, chuckled. He seemed taken aback by that. "Please. I may be a young maiden inexperienced in some things, but I'm not a pretty little fool."

"Maybe I like pretty little fools."

She laughed, batted her eyelashes at him as she made a lithe feminine gesture worthy of a pretty little fool.

Now it was his turn to laugh. "Fine, Lawrence. We can court for a time. On one condition."

"Yes?"

"We set a date for our official engagement. That is what you do in your land, is it not?"

He took a moment, a wry smile on his face. "Something of that sort," he said. "You bargain hard."

She smiled. For some reason all of her nervousness had simply melted away once she had become aware of his concerns.

"I _am_ twenty-three."

"Indeed, you are."

"Incidentally, _Ro-rensu_ ..."

"Yes?"

"How old are you?"

"Do you see why I wish to court?"

"Minor details."

"Perhaps."

"How old?"

"Twenty-nine."

"I see."

"What?

"You're older than I thought."

"Are you calling me _old_?"

She found herself standing on her toes atop his feet. It probably hurt, but he made no indication that this was the case. Her hands were now atop his forearms.

She smiled, feeling confident in herself. "Never."

She took her left hand and used his shoulder to pull up to his mouth and they kissed. Physically it wasn't as sweet an experience as she had imagined, but it was still the sweetest thing she'd ever done.

When they parted, she almost giggled.

## The Princess Heir

It was so wonderful to be back with her father and brother, and to be safe. To add to her comforts, she was also clean. For some reason Dija still seemed on edge. She would have to ask her about that next time she saw her maid.

As it was, the Western Temple was a place to commune with the gods and to seek quiet contemplation and solace from the higher powers. She did that, sitting cross-legged, her body facing the rising sun. She did all the rituals. The princess made offerings, prayed and thanked the _kami_ gods. She kept silent, enjoying her quiet devotion for a time.

When she was finished, she regarded the smooth floors, the walls and the rafters high above her head.

_They don't even have books,_ she thought. _Not the kind I like, anyway._

Her eyes found the camp below. It was a good view from the third story, though so ugly in what was once the beautiful grounds of the temple.

"I feel much better now that you're with us."

It was Masaru. She smiled, turned to regard him. "Now that it's over, we can look back on what happened as an adventure. I had an adventure, brother." She sniffed, bemused at her own statement.

"Indeed. But let's hope you don't have any more adventures, ever." He walked next to her, put an arm around her shoulder.

"The epic adventures I'm used to reading about in my books will now either seem incredibly fictitious and dry, or they'll be my refuge more so than ever."

"Let's hope the latter," Masaru said.

She looked up to him, her eyes sweeping across his sword. He never wore that thing. "What's going to happen now?"

"We're going to leave, little sister."

"Leave? Mikuma? Is father truly going to run?"

"We're not running," he said, a slight sternness to his tone. She looked away. "We'll return. Father and I will, to right the wrongs these gutless attackers have done to us—the honorless dogs! Our armies can defeat any foe."

_That's not true._ "Of course they can," she said.

"You'll see. In a month you'll be back in the palace."

"What happened to the Shinjus?"

"Hmm," he thought, grasping the hilt of his sword. "I don't know. Perhaps Hukama is holding them prisoner. Or perhaps he executed them."

"Would he do that?"

"Probably not," he said. "But you never do know with these warlord types. He's of the old ways—more savage and brutal than the age that is nearly upon us."

"He's strong."

"He's a barbarian."

"And we're trapped in this temple."

He looked at her, pointed a finger in her face. "We're not trapped. We can get out at any time. We have Sakuraichi's forces. Our men can cut down five of theirs. These are our lands. They won't be taken easily—not without a fight."

She nodded. She didn't want to get Masaru into any more of a rise than he already was. "Of course, you're correct, brother. What do I know of these matters?"

"Nothing," he said, though not unkindly. "Stay with your books, little sister. Let the warriors fight and decide who should fight who."

She didn't exactly know it, but she felt it in her bones that something was wrong, that Masaru was quite possibly not even aware of it. At least not consciously.

Maybe she would get an answer from her maids. "Where's Dija and Mika?"

"Mmm, I don't know. Why you keep that cat eye around, I don't even know."

"She's loyal."

"She's annoying."

Noriko smiled, nodded. "Perhaps your personalities simply don't match well."

He didn't answer her statement. "I have to go check on father."

"All right."

He embraced her. "I'm glad you're back."

"Me too." She smiled and he left her there.

_Well,_ she thought, _at least I won't have to marry Prince Shusuke..._

What a terrible thing to be thankful for.

She would have to give another offering and pray that her selfishness not lead anyone to harm.

## The White Feather

"Both of us are where we don't belong," Haku said looking Commander Arduani up and down while she was busy with her task. "You more than I." Gaijin women were so tall. Arduani practically towered over her. But she was still wearing her boots, while the White Feather was barefoot. "I should be with my _daimyō_."

The Knight Commander didn't turn to address her, simply continued mending her armor. "You're needed here, and I've been asked to stay."

Haku sat across from the other woman atop a trestle bench. This part of the temple wasn't so attractive as the rest. She preferred it. It was quiet here. "I don't deny it. But I failed my task. I should complete it."

"You should."

Haku raised her eyes in surprise, but Arduani still wasn't looking at her.

"After the emperor has escaped," she added. "This mission is your new priority."

Haku didn't take orders from this woman. She simply sought out the envoy sent from the order of the Purging Flame and found this warrior instead. She spoke to Haku almost like she was her subordinate.

She didn't let it bother her. In fact, she didn't much care. _Maybe she's simply direct,_ the White Feather thought. "You're right, of course."

Did she come to this woman seeking solace because of her worries for Ujio? She felt her face heat.

"Red is an interesting color on one so pale."

Haku flinched. What was that supposed to mean? Instinctually she deflected from the unwanted attention. "I'm upset."

"Indeed."

There was a long pause between them, the sound of leatherwork and the far off sounds of camp from outside. It was beginning to get hot in here. Finally Haku said, "You're an observant one, aren't you?"

"Many things escape my notice," the warrior woman said. Haku wondered if she had magic. No, that wasn't possible. Her order hated magic. "Except you're blushing like an apple, so I would have to be blind to miss it."

She blinked. "Am I so obvious?"

The other woman sniffed, bemused. "I'm afraid so, little feather."

Is that a smirk on her face?

Haku sighed, feeling frustrated—with herself, her failure to complete her task, and her failure to maintain a cool exterior. She needed to get her frustrations out.

She's a fighter.

"I'm going to go train. Care to come along?"

Arduani seemed to think it over for a moment, her hands still busy with the inner lining of her armor. "Why not? I'm almost done here. I'll meet you in half an hour."

Haku nodded and flitted off in a patter of light footsteps. The knight commander was good with a blade, or so she had heard. She'd also heard that the mage was quite an adept fighter.

_It_ would _take one like Urhaggha to incapacitate him that way,_ she thought. __ Arduani didn't seem to like him, though she was professional enough to acknowledge his fighting skills. _I probably shouldn't bring him up in our conversation later._

In any event, a duel with this woman, if even only a sparring match, would be entertaining, as well as a good distraction to clear the mind.

## The Sword of a Thousand Suns

She had run. She had run the entire time, not stopping to face him even once after their encounter in the alley. She couldn't defeat him. But he needed to defeat her. And that's why she had run.

The Sword of a Thousand Suns sat brooding on a stump atop a hill overlooking Hukama's camp below the temple plateau. Ujiwara had his elbows propped up on his knees, his right fist under his chin as he held his jutting _katana_ hilt with his left, using it for support.

He looked up at the sky. The sun was out. It was hot and he nearly snarled, wishing the rains would hurry and return. Beyond the mountains, black clouds roiled. He could sneak into the temple. He could challenge her and defeat her there.

Hukama would not approve.

Ujiwara was finding the wait unbearable. Would he find her again once the real fighting broke out? He had defeated so many. The Lotus Green. Salamander. Even the Western Shield Bearer. His reputation was everything. If she escaped him, he might never recover from such an embarrassment. He would be a laughing stock. The Sword of a Thousand Suns couldn't best a diminutive woman known for floating on the wind?

_No,_ he thought. _No, she was much, much more than that. But that's how they'll say it._ The scorn and the criticism inside his head weren't real. No one had even known they'd crossed blades. And yet, he was certain it was a widespread rumor already. Surely.

Pathetic.

Head slipping into his hands, he made the decision. Hukama would be furious, but maybe he didn't have to find out. No, he would. Ujiwara wouldn't assassinate The White Feather. That would be dishonorable and perhaps a worse fate than if she escaped him.

He lurched off the log, made his way through camp toward the inner Western Gate entrance where the forest and the foothills lay beyond.

He would challenge her in front of the emperor's own army. Then all would know, as it was meant to be between Legendary blade masters.

## The Failed Mage

Lawrence stood in the main command tent where he thought he would find Knight Commander Arduani. It seemed she was in charge of the military preparations here, which he thought was odd, seeing as how the army at the temple had plenty of captains. Perhaps the emperor simply trusted her most of all.

The failed mage had come to the tent to better understand what was going to happen. He thought a push to the harbor was imminent.

Was he wrong to say nothing of the _Akaima Dancing Fan_ in the cove further north? There were so many people who wanted to leave, and a whole harbor full of ships. At best, the royal family and their retinue could escape on the ship there, otherwise the harbor would be necessary.

_I don't care about the emperor,_ he thought. _He's not my emperor. I'm not wrong to protect the people I care about first._

That meant Sakura and her family, though he felt guilty, thinking about Princess Noriko. She seemed to be a sweet young woman, but if Lawrence revealed that there was a secret ship the emperor could escape on, he had no doubt that Sakura and her family would be left behind.

He had explained this to Hitomo. The old samurai seemed deeply conflicted, but Lawrence knew that after years of fighting, and having not lifted a blade in ages, the old man was less likely to fall to pure blind loyalty. Kurosawa was not a god emperor to these people, not like the ruler in Kachiiwara who had sent his First Spear here to conquer the country.

"You," he said, addressing the guard in the tent. "Where's the purging flame woman?" He wouldn't have asked so abruptly in such a manor, but his impatience got the better of him.

The guard lifted a quizzical eyebrow.

"The Knight Captain Commander Arduani," he added. "Where is she?"

The guard shrugged. "I do not know. Move along."

Lawrence left the tent. He searched the lower levels of the temple where he wouldn't accidentally happen upon the emperor's guards and found nothing, but then he went to the lower floors where he was told she had gone. He found weapons for sparring and armor being mended by a craftsman.

He moved to the commander's armor, lifted the helmet with both hands. Curious, he made to try it on, but realized it wouldn't fit and sat it back down. He would never wear something like this... with wings!

Golden light was streaming into the basement from the ground level windows. Dust motes filled the room, swirling about. Lawrence looked around, thinking. When he noticed the racks of weapons on the walls, placed there by Sakuraichi's soldiers, he realized something.

She must be sparring.

"Old man," he said, addressing the lone craftsman in the room. He was moving some stacks of leather strips. "Is there an area in the grounds where one might go to spar or train?"

The old man nodded, pointed out the window in a general direction. Lawrence nodded and left the makeshift armory.

There was a garden out there. Not the one he had taken Sakura too. His heart beat a little faster just thinking about her now. He found himself smiling, but wiped the look of his face as he walked the path, plants and blossoms on either side of him. Beyond, there was a huge cleft in the mountain with a narrow rope bridge connecting the walkway across. This place was renowned for the geography alone.

The failed mage went across, taking his time. The thing wobbled and shook. It felt very precarious up here, the dark crag in the mountain far below. It was still too early in the morning for the sun to be high enough to shine light down there.

Reaching the other side, he followed the dirt path, crossing unkempt hedges nestled at the base of the mountain peaks that formed a sort of shelter in the opening ahead.

He found the knight commander there, barefoot, wearing a rough spun kimono and a black sash, much like the other woman, a shorter woman with stark white hair.

Haku?

Apparently she was some sort of blade master with magical abilities, though Lawrence had no idea what she could do. He stopped short of interrupting as he watched the two women fight with wooden swords.

Slightly taken aback, he watched the sparring match taking place between the White Feather and the Winged Blade of the Purging Flame.

It was evidently clear which of the women was a better fighter. Lawrence lifted his head, a little more aware when he saw Haku jump back from contact with Arduani's practice sword. She seemed to glide in the hair, as if she had thrown herself back into a wave of water that was carrying her to shore.

_The White Feather,_ he thought. _That's right._

He had heard the name before, but couldn't remember where. From what he knew, she seemed to be shrouded in mystery. A lot of what he had heard had been simple gossip. But this. This was real, what he was seeing, and it was very impressive

Arduani was having trouble getting close enough to land a hit on the other woman, and when she was close enough, her blade was parried away, forcing her to move into a defensive posture to avoid being hit herself.

Out of the two women, Arduani was clearly far more aggressive in her style and approach. Her sword movements were broader, her moves more sweeping and with more lunges utilizing the tip of her blade, while Haku fought in a much more defensive style, a style that watched, waited and struck with slashing attacks at extremely close range.

Arduani grunted viciously as she blocked one such attack from the other woman who had come in so close, forcing her to half-sword, a maneuver that required the fighter to grab his own blade.

In a continued fight, he thought Arduani would surely lose. Though her attacks came close on many occasions, forcing the other woman to use her sword to parry or block, or simply jump away, she wasn't exerting nearly as much effort as the commander.

As it was, fighting without armor was one thing, fighting on the battlefield against a numbered foe was much different, so when considering the two fighting styles, the White Feather was the better blade master, but Arduani was no doubt more suited to the battlefield.

_As a knight should be,_ he thought, _especially one sworn to root out and fight evil._

In particular, the Order of the Purging Flame was devoted to destroying magic. Rogue mages, necromancers and vampires, along with an assortment of otherworldly monsters was their regular lot.

_No wonder they hate magic._

They were in the thick of it now, practice swords flashing as they danced forward and back. A thought came to Lawrence and he smiled as he walked forward. When he reached the edge of the practice yard, he shouted, "Knight Commander!"

She turned, lurched to see what the emergency was. The other woman's wooden blade came in and hit her in the ribs. She jerked as the practice sword thwacked against her, but she didn't show any overt signs of pain, though Lawrence knew she was putting on an act.

She made a face and Lawrence smiled. "I suppose that means you're dead."

Arduani was breathing hard, chest heaving as she wiped her face. She tossed her practice sword into the sand and walked toward Lawrence. "What is it?" she asked, tucking a lose strand back behind her ear. The rest of her brown hair had been pulled back tightly and held into a coifed tail.

Seeing as how he wanted something from her, playing that prank on her just now probably wasn't the wisest decision. He glanced toward the White Feather, back to the Winged Blade.

He had to maneuver through her coming belligerence.

"I just wanted to let you know I'll be in the back, providing support when we assault the harbor tonight."

"To the hells with that," Arduani said, a challenge in her tone. "You'll be where I decide—where you'll be most needed, coward."

"Which is in the rear guard."

"In the vanguard."

Lawrence smiled. "Very well."

"What?" she asked, sounding as if Lawrence had just hurled a surprising insult at her. She glanced back toward Haku, but the other woman shrugged. She came back with a glare. "Oh, I see. Nicely played, _mage._ " There was an evident scorn on the last word.

He chuckled. "I knew you wouldn't be forthcoming with information about the emperor's plans, so I had to improvise." He didn't care that her rush to judge him as a coward had made itself evident. He didn't care what she thought. In fact, she probably believed he'd be one of the first to be killed, should any of them die, though he doubted she was hoping for it, or that she was planning for it.

_She wants to get this done,_ he thought. _Besides, she's not that kind of person._

"We know it's a trap," he added. "Why are we walking into it?"

She looked at him, an enduring frustration on her face. "We're stuck here," she said. "You know that. Why are you asking?"

"I'm certain there's other possibilities," he said. "We could sneak the emperor out." He nodded to Haku. "She could do it, I have no doubt." He turned to her. "The way you move, your agility and stealth of movement is very impressive."

"Thank you, Lawrence" she said, moving up beside Arduani. How she knew his name, he didn't know, but she had probably heard it from Sakura.

During the night, she had come to his tent to invite him to the emperor's strategy meeting, but he hadn't spoken—he had simply been present. A hangar on in the back.

The White Feather had afforded him respect, but neither of them had been properly introduced.

"I'm afraid I only know you by reputation."

A slight smile. "Haku."

"It's nice to meet you, Haku."

"The same to you," she said with a nod.

Both of the women were wearing thin kimonos, sweat glistening from their bodies. "Are you sure you two want to get all worked up right before a battle?"

"Sparring eases the mind," Haku said, "prepares one for the fight."

"I suppose it does," he said. "And you?" He nodded to the commander who seemed as taciturn as ever.

"I just needed to get some aggression out," she said. "After Hans..." They all shared a quiet moment, but Arduani was quick to dispel it. She turned and glanced at Haku. "Apparently I chose the right person."

"You're a very impressive fighter, lady knight." She gave a small bow. This woman was very polite, so soft-spoken and small-boned. It was hard to believe she was a blade master of some renown.

"Well," Arduani said, "apparently not impressive enough. Your magic... serves you well."

"It's not magic."

The commander was evidentially taken aback. "Is that so?"

"It is," Haku said. "I would not have asked you to spar with me had I been a magicker. No, my abilities are... of an ancient martial art."

"You'll have to tell me how you do that."

"Of course." A wicked little smile crossed her face. "But then I would have to make sure you never spoke again."

They all three laughed.

"On a more serious topic." the smaller woman said.

Arduani rubbed her ribs covertly as she turned to face the other woman. "Yes?"

"I have concerns about tonight."

"We all have concerns about tonight," Lawrence said.

"Indeed," Haku said. "I wish to voice mine."

"Very well," Arduani said. "We should head back, get cleaned up and then discuss." She turned to Lawrence. "I suppose you can come to."

Annoying woman.

"Oh, that's wonderful," Lawrence said. "I was afraid I was interrupting. Are you quite certain?"

Arduani stopped, gave him a withering look. But then she sobered. "Funny mage."

_This woman rankles,_ he thought, but he had to respect her for letting his antagonisms go without confrontation, as much as they were deserved. _She knows how to put things aside for the greater good._

"You're a good leader." He hadn't planned the words—he simply wanted to tell her that.

"Are you mocking me?"

"No," Lawrence said seriously. "I wouldn't. Not about something like that."

"I see."

A moment passed and Lawrence said, "But you can certainly work on taking compliments."

Arduani sniffed with a shake of her head.

## The Failed Mage

The sun was a little higher now by the time they reached the command tent. As he followed the two women in, Lawrence spotted Tomiichi and Hitomo. They exchanged nods with him. He felt there was more in those nods than simply their acquaintance with him.

So they approve.

That was good. But it was obvious before when Hitomo had allowed Lawrence to take Sakura aside and speak to her—where he had proposed courtship with her.

"Are you coming?" Arduani asked? "Everyone is waiting." She was standing in the entrance.

"Of course," he said, following her into the command tent as a runner ran past them. The two women were still wearing their sparring kimonos.

"He's getting the others," she said.

"Who?"

"Everyone. It's time for our final plans to be hammered into place."

That meant the emperor's generals were coming. As he understood it, Arduani was in command, but his generals were still expected to be present for their war meetings, and once a plan of action was confirmed, they would take it to the emperor.

Lawrence still hadn't decided what would be done about the _Akaima Dancing Fan_. Part of him hoped to have awoken to find the Nakamuras gone, secreted into the hills to their ship, safely out of Mikuma and across the sea.

If that happens, I hope Ishi has the good sense to follow...

# Chapter Eleven—The Akaima Dancing Fan

## The White Feather

After their duel, Haku had gone into the hills where the _onsens_ were. Now, after resting and bathing, she stepped out, dried herself with a linen. These mountains were dotted with thousands of little hot springs _._ This one was a little more secluded from the eyes of the soldiers and the common goings on of the camp in the temple grounds.

She took up her fresh, white kimono, her mind wandering to her earlier encounter. Haku had been certain the Sword of a Thousand Suns had lost her scent among the morass of the camp when they had entered the previous evening. How he was able to sense her at all, she did not know. In that thinking, perhaps she should not be certain.

As soon as she had arrived, she found her way to the command tent and trudged inside, where she had found that foreigner directing the emperor's commanders. The Knight Captain Commander of the Winged Blades, the envoy from the Purging Flame.

They had met briefly below the temple summit. Haku almost made a sound of disgust, but held herself back and keeping her face emotionless. Then she thought, _Ujio's personality is rubbing off on me._

This woman wore intricate plate. She was tall and had a commanding presence, despite having not even made eye contact with Haku yet as she pointed at a map of what looked like the temple grounds. "...barricades here, here and here," she was saying.

" _Hai,_ " the soldier said, nodding in complete deference to her orders.

"Continue to fletch as many arrows as possible. We will need them."

"But how, Commander, we do not have the resources."

"Then get them," she demanded. "Are there not trees in the hills?"

" _Hai,_ but..."

"Rip open the futons if you have to. Take the feathers from wherever you can find them. Fletch as many arrows as we can make. We will need them. We have the advantage of terrain that we must exploit as far as possible."

The feathers within the futons would be far too soft and packed to work for fletching arrows. Surely she knew that?

" _Hai,_ " her subordinate said with a bow. He turned and strode past Haku as he made his way out of the tent.

The commander continued her studying of the map, then looked up in distraction and what Haku thought mild annoyance. "You?" The armored woman looked at her for a few moments, and then finally it seemed to dawn on her.

The White Feather spotted the dirtied and bloodies rag in the other woman's left hand. Perhaps whoever had put her in command at the temple knew what he was doing.

"I'm an aide of Sakuraichi- _sama._ I am on a mission given to me by my _daimyō_. I am to get word out of the city so that reinforcements may join us against our enemy."

"I see," the commander said. She looked Haku up and down, doubt clearly visible in her gaze. A thin strand of hair had fallen from her coif. "And how is it you presume to get out of the city?"

"Leave that to me," she said.

"What do you wish of me?" the commander asked.

"I need your help. I need to know where our imperial forces are so that I can find them."

The commander didn't say she would assist Haku, but in compliance, she looked down at the map. The White Feather strode forward, looking as well and waited respectfully for the commander to speak.

"We have forces in the north, but they're beyond the Okaiyo Mountains. It would take them at least a weak to get here."

"No," Haku said, shaking her head. "They are too far."

"The only other force you could contact that would make any difference is here in the south. But you would have to cross the city to get to them. I saw you earlier—in the hills when we rescued the princess, but I still don't know how you would do that."

"I can cross the city again in a short time," Haku said, knowing that right now, tonight, she could not. "But... I am pursued by the Sword of a Thousand Suns."

I'm too exhausted. I need to rest. Gather my strength.

"I don't know who that is."

"A dangerous foe," she said, not bothering to elaborate. She was too distracted by the chill that ran down her back.

Is it rest I need, or am I afraid of him? I'm not accustomed to feelings such as these. I feel... ashamed.

__ "How many men are there?"

"At least two-thousand," the commander replied, "according to our reports." She looked up and made eye contact with her.

"I will soon make to contact these forces."

The other woman frowned. "How do you expect to achieve this goal?"

Haku smiled. "I have my ways."

"I've seen your ways." The commander said, still raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Perhaps you should tell me more. I might be able to use you."

"No," Haku said, knowing that she needed to conserve her strength for _this_ task.

The commander straightened. "No?" There was a note of surprise and challenge in her tone.

"My _daimyō,_ Sakuraichi- _sama_ , has given me a mission and I will fulfill it."

The commander breathed in deeply. "Very well, Haku—White Feather. Do as you wish."

Haku gave a respectful bow. "I must take my leave now. _Arigatou_ , Commander."

The commander nodded, her attention immediately diverted to her other aides—Sakuraichi's captains—as she gave them tasks to perform.

The White Feather left the tent, her white _jika-tabi_ sinking once again into the mud there. She looked about the camp, the breeze spraying her in the light rain. Her eyes naturally found the Western Temple aglow with yellow lights. The princess was no doubt within, happy to be reunited with her family.

Synching the sash around her waist after her bath after their duel, Haku thought she understood the Commander of the Winged Blades better. She was a capable leader. One she could trust, even if their paths were opposed. Perhaps they could have been friends in another life.

The dual had also served another purpose. Haku had tested herself this morning—needed to know if she had the energy required of her to get to the other side of the city, perhaps pursued every step of the way, forced to fight him.

She smiled, making her way out of the hills, back into camp and onto the roof atop the temple. The tiles were hard to traverse as she moved to one side. She surveyed the encampment. There were hundreds of tents and thousands of soldiers.

Trapped.

They needed relief from this siege. If only Haku could do what she had been ordered to do. She nodded to herself, a cold resolve coming over her as she crouched in preparation for her journey, wondering...

I can glide out of the camp and into the warrens behind Hukama's camp, lose him within the machiyas if the luck of the wind is with me.

If the Sword of a Thousand Suns was still on her trail, this would give her a considerable advantage in staying ahead of him, as he would have to traverse the foothills back into the city proper in order to pursue her. It would take her much of the day to reach those forces in the south.

She ran across the rooftop, determined, her arms spread out like a bird's wings.

## The First Spear

Would he claim the imperial throne of Mikuma when this was done, or would he work with Sakuraichi-san?

He is not a tractable man. Working with him may prove to be a hindrance to my ambitions...

The aging general stretched out his limbs in the _onsen_ , his vision of the waters reflecting the clearing skies obscured by the hot mists.

Footsteps approached from behind. Nori did not stir to see who it was. He didn't have to in his own camp.

"My lord?" It was one of his many aides. "My lord," the man continued, "word has come that Emperor Kurosawa is sending forces into the harbor."

"Mmm," Nori noised. "Then it is time."

Without delay he got up out of the water. His aide brought him a cloth to dry himself. As soon as he dawned fresh robes and his _waraji_ sandals he walked back to his command tent where his generals were waiting.

They bowed as he entered. It was too hot in the tent after his bath. "My lord," one of the generals said with another bow of respect. "It is as you said it would be."

He noised satisfactorily. "We press our attack here." He pointed at the base of the Western Temple as well as further north within the harbor.

"Should we not send ships if Kurosawa escapes?"

"No ships," Hukama replied. "For our plans to work, the emperor needs a way of escape—and not simply a false pretense, but a real possibility." His generals said nothing, so he continued. "They know it's a trap. They believe they can outwit us. We mustn't let them."

" _Hai!_ " his generals cried. They turned, gave their commanders their orders. In little time the battle would begin, and the Nori Hukama's forces would make a very real push to capture the Western Temple.

The old man looked about, then to his aide he asked, "Where is my pupil?"

"I will find him, my lord."

Nori nodded, already knowing that he would not be found. _I'm displeased with you, Ujiwara-kun._

## The Sword of a Thousand Suns

Perhaps coming into the heart of the enemy camp was foolish. Ujiwara didn't care. He had to find the White Feather—to defeat her. His cares for the coming battle, Hukama's war, didn't seem to matter right now.

Later.

That's what he told himself. At heart, the Sword of a Thousand Suns was a duelist. A legendary warrior who would make his own mark on history as the greatest duelist who had ever lived. This was his sole ambition.

Then will you be proud of me, father?

He had removed his mask now that he was in the enemy's camp. He surveyed the goings on from a small hill as he sat among the grass. Slipping in had been easy, as it was for any skilled warrior. The temple grounds were a scurry of activity. Smiths, leather workers and fletchers were hard at work, soldiers trained, men bathed, cooked, did laundry. An array of tents were packed tightly among the outskirts of the grounds and nestled against the foot of the mountains.

Making sure not to stay too far out of the way, he had sat atop this hill a few feet from a cook fire. No soldier would challenge him in the middle of the camp, as they would think he simply belonged.

_He doesn't even know I'm his son,_ he thought, thinking of his father and feeling irritated with himself. _Why do I care so much?_

He narrowed his eyes.

The White Feather would be a prominent figure among them, would she not? Surely she wouldn't be hard to spot, as she was a woman among these thousands of men and probably wearing white, as she had when he had faced her the previous day.

Ujiwara made a fist with one hand, rubbed at his _katana_ hilt with the other. He was beginning to feel impatient when he spotted a woman. She wasn't the one he wanted, but for some reason his eye was fixed on her.

She approached a _gaijin_ —a westerner? Yes. The girl was flanked by a small host of other figures, several of them also women. She bowed to the foreigner, and then, to her surprise, he embraced her. Ujiwara watched as she returned the gesture.

The foreigner was wearing traditional robes, but at his waist he had a straight, double-edged sword. Typical. He sniffed with derision, then made a sound of displeasure.

Where is the White Feather?

He couldn't wait atop this hill forever. Ujiwara stood, deciding on a new course of action as he watched the foreigner enter what looked like a command tent. _So, he's no common gaijin._

Eyes roving the camp, they instinctually swept to the weakness he could exploit—to the woman that foreigner had embraced.

_He cares for her. Good. He could use her—use_ him _to find the woman he wanted..._

An unbidden smile came to him as the camp horns were blown, signaling movement and action.

It's time for the final confrontation.

## The Winged Blade

" _Shore up our right flank!_ " Liandra bellowed to her runner. She pointed to the direction indicated, sword outstretched along with her arm.

She glanced back toward the royal family surrounded by their retinue, her knights positioned defensively around the group. They were safe for the time being, but their forces were surrounded on two fronts. The only good thing about this confrontation was that Liandra had several thousand men at her disposal. More were reinforcing their ranks as warriors poured in from the direction of the temple even now.

If the First Spear was going to attack the summit, now was the time. Taking men off the defenses at the temple to fight in the harbor was weakening their strong position. The knight commander was not looking forward to being outflanked. Soon they would be out of time. But the height advantage of the plateau afforded them a defensible position, even if severely outnumbered, so she had some time.

That was the only reason why she could split her forces and fight on two fronts. But they couldn't last forever, either at the temple or in the harbor.

As she directed the battle, surrounded by Hukama's forces on the left flank and right flank, she directed her runners to convey orders to the flag bearers to shore up their lines with swords and spears.

"Where are my archers?"

"Ready, commander!" the Imperial general Yorikana shouted in reply.

"Hit the right flank," she ordered.

"But commander, our men could be hit!"

"It's a chance we'll have to take," she said, "but to be safe, overshoot if necessary. We need to ease the brunt on our line."

"Yes commander!"

She didn't watch as the signal was given, only heard the flitting of arrows as bowstrings went taut. The arrows were hardly visible as they came back down.

" _Kuso!_ " Yorikana exclaimed. "A miss."

"It was the wind," Liandra said, glancing toward the mountains and the roiling black clouds. The skies had been clearing, but that only served to mislead both armies, as the storm would surely hit them now.

"Readjust and order another volley!"

" _Hai!_ "

The knight commander was sweating in her armor, but the cool wind was a relief at least. She did not look favorably on standing in squelching boots later on, though.

"We push for the ship!" she ordered, then looked about. "Now where is that damn mage?"

## The Failed Mage

Commander Arduani would be furious if she found out Lawrence had slipped away from the battle. But he didn't care. Kicking his legs, he ran up the trail, his body slapping through ferns and twigs.

When he crested the hill, the cove became visible through the trees. Their branches swayed in the winds of the coming storm. Now was a terrible time to be embarking on the high seas—right before bad weather.

But it will be riskier to stay. We have to get out—I have to get Sakura and her family to safety!

The boat, the _Akaima Dancing Fan_ was there, anchored and safe from the chop of the open water. There was a dock on the beach with a cutter tied up there. He turned, looking back the way he had come. He couldn't see the Yukai City harbor over the hills, and the trees were too thick besides. But he could hear the men, the sounds of thousands of warriors at battle blew over the hills and fought with the onset of the coming storm for prominence in his ears.

At least the ship was still here.

Now he had to go back and aid the emperor's escape. Before that, he would meet with Hitomo and Tomiichi. They were waiting for him to give them word of the ship. Somehow they would have to find an able-bodied crew or else they'd never make it through the storm—that, or wait out the weather before setting sail. Looking at the ship, it was clear that if there were any sailors on the _Akaima Dancing Fan_ , that it was the barest skeleton crew at best.

The failed mage turned and ran back in the direction of the harbor and the battle. He would then cut up toward the temple to tell the Nakamuras to make for the ship.

## The Hurg Assassin

Standing under an awning, Urhaggha waited to make his move as he buckled his vambraces on. His shin guards were strapped tight and he now wore his armored raiment.

The enemy's hail of arrows wouldn't reach him here, but even if they had, his armor would absorb the vast majority of them anyway.

He was ready, though the assassin needed a better vantage point, so he entered the double storied _machiya_ and made for the roof where he could see what was happening over the heads of Hukama's forces while they did battle with the enemy.

On the tiled roof, Urhaggha bent to one knee as he surveyed the battle. Both sides were evenly matched, their lines being reinforced with _yari_ spears and _katana_ s. Was the Mikuma Imperial Emperor here, or waiting back in the temple?

A volley of enemy arrows went up. Urhaggha shielded his head with his vambrace in the unlikely event an arrow found its way into his skull. Nothing struck. The archers were not aiming this far back of the line, though he had to be careful, as he could be mistaken for a spotter.

Farther up behind the enemy lines a contingent of soldiers forming a tight-packed square of protection was visible, though no flags indicating Kurosawa's presence were flying.

The assassin had no doubts. Something, or someone, was being protected in that enclosure of bodies. It seemed there were also some foreign knights there, lending their assistance.

_Kurosawa_ _awaits his chance to escape._

Looking to the east, he saw the ship Hukama's forces were protecting from the enemy's advancement. They wouldn't be able to hold out long against this assault. He narrowed his eyes. She was undoubtedly on that ship right now. Yuko didn't like being told what to do, but the courtesan would do her part to achieve their aims—the death of Emperor Kurosawa.

## The Old Samurai

They had left the moment Lawrence told them of the _Akaima Dancing Fan,_ confirming that she was indeed moored close to the harbor.

It had been decided that Hitomo and Tomiichi would scout the area as well as Lawrence. One couldn't be too careful during a war, and besides, "The ship is lacking a proper crew," Tomii had said. "We must find some able bodies sailors. There are plenty across the water in the northern part of the harbor."

Lawrence stood to the side, speaking quietly to Sakura and Yoko.

"But how to get there?" Hitomo asked.

"There are skiffs," Lawrence said. "You can take those. There are no ships on the water. It's a free shot to the shore on the other side. It seems untouched by Hukama's army."

They said their quick goodbyes. Sakura and Lawrence embraced before he hurried out of the tent and back toward the battle.

Hitomo looked to his older daughter. "He will be fine."

She nodded, though he could see the worry on her face.

They set out in a hurry, then, skirting the battle from the hills where it was safe. Now Hitomo and his son were in the hills, looking down at the _Akaima Dancing Fan._

"It's as he said," Tomii exclaimed. "She's here. _Ro-rensu_ said there would be no ships sailing the harbor."

Hitomo peered across the waters, looking for ships. They had stood here on the shore, simply looking for enemy movement as thunder rumbled from the north. He nodded. "Part of the enemy's plan."

"This works to our advantage, father."

The old samurai noised his acknowledgement and gave a nod of his chin. "I can take one of the _su-kifus_ to make my way to the other side of the harbor. I will find a crew for the ship."

"I'm coming with you."

" _Iie!_ " he objected. He put a hand on Tomii's shoulder. "You must stay, to look after your mother and your sisters, and to make sure that when I come back _Ro-rensu-san_ is on the ship—otherwise the sailors may take over the vessel and leave without us."

Tomiichi sighed. "You're right. All right. I'll go back—you find us a crew."

"Now, Tomiichi..."

"Yes, father?"

He looked at his son. "It is our duty to help others in need, but not at the expense of our own family first."

Tomii nodded. As a city guard, and samurai, he did not want his son to accidentally make the mistake of bringing too many refugees to the ship.

"I understand."

Hitomo nodded. "Then go. _Ike!_ "

" _Hai!_ "

Tomii squeezed his shoulder, turned and made his way into the forest in the direction of the Western Temple.

In his gut, the old samurai felt a deep-seated fear that somehow they would not be able to leave, so that his family would remain safe from the horrors of this war and the subsequent conflicts that could follow.

He looked up into the grey sky. _Kami-sama, keep my family safe—I beg you..._

## The Failed Mage

Lawrence rejoined the battle after returning from the temple, breathing hard from all the running through the hills.

He almost couldn't believe that she ship hadn't been discovered yet as it sat silently in the cove just north of the main harbor.

Walking to the front, Lawrence found Commander Arduani directing the battle, giving orders and shouting through the din of the fighting. From what he could tell, the ship her forces were attempting to secure couldn't be boarded yet with the enemy's lines so close.

The failed mage approached the commander who was crouched behind a shield bearer—one of the few he'd seen in ages—as a hail of arrows came down into their ranks. When he reached her, he said, "Perhaps you should consider pulling back your command?"

He glanced aside. The emperor wasn't far off. What was he doing here?

"He insisted," she said in way of explanation. "There was nothing I could say to convince him otherwise. We need that ship."

"What can I do to help?"

She glanced toward their lines. "Hukama's forces are putting up a fierce resistance. They don't want to make this too easy, it seems. I need you to help thin them out."

Lawrence surveyed the battle, glanced back at the approaching clouds. He didn't have a lot of time. If it started to downpour again, he would be nearly useless. "I can do that."

She gave him a resolute nod and he moved away.

Lawrence had a reserve of magical energies, but he needed another charge. He glanced about and found the archers. He ran to one of their braziers and took hold of the hot metal there. The men watched in shock as he absorbed the elemental energies within, leaving the metal only warm and the coals within completely darkened.

Fully charged and runes glowing brightly, Lawrence turned to the battle. He sprinted toward the fighting lines as he summoned as much power as possible—the energies within him materializing in the palms of his hands.

A raised vantage point would be useful, but not being too close to their battle lines, he thought he could volley the enemy by allowing the fireballs to drop.

Crouching slightly, he released two fireballs in an upward arch. They came back down upon the enemy with explosive destruction. He nodded, and released a full volley across the enemy line and expending every bit of his energies in a flurry of fireballs.

A horn sounded and the Imperial battle lines moved forward as they cut through the remnants of Hukama's forces. __

It's too easy. Surely they have their own mages? But where are they?

Lawrence glanced toward Commander Arduani who was running past him, at her back a contingent of soldiers rushing forward to secure the ship moored on the docks.

The failed mage did not join her for fear of accidentally setting the ship aflame, though he was nearly drained of all magical energies. He turned in search of more elemental energy to consume.

He wanted to be prepared. Knowing full well that they were springing an enemy trap, he felt something had not yet revealed itself, and evidentially the Knight Commander of the Winged Blades felt the same, as Lawrence realized she left her knights to guard Emperor Kurosawa.

## The Dancer [Dictated]

Sakura paced back and forth. She felt restless, didn't know what to do. The battle was raging right now and her mother and her sister were gathering what little they had.

"Yoko, quickly!" her mother said. "Sakura, what are you doing? We have to leave in no time at all!"

Sakura made a noise of frustration. All she could think about was Lawrence. He could be bleeding out on the ground right now and she wouldn't even know it.

"Sakura. We must prepare. The ship will be leaving soon."

Perhaps her mother was right. The best thing she could do now was put her mind from it, despite the fact that there was a battle being fought. Only minutes ago the whole camp was up and about—horns blown, soldiers brandishing weapons—the whole of the temple grounds a nest of furious activity.

The enemy was attacking the Western Temple.

A ball of apprehension was forming in her stomach and her hands shook. She tried to busy them by arranging the loose strands of hair falling at the sides of her face, but all this seemed to do was to reveal her nervousness.

Against every impulse in her body, Sakura got busy gathering some of their things. "Where is Kaiya and Yumiko?"

"They're on their way," Yoko said. "They went for water."

Will we need water? It's not a long hike to the ship.

"Mother," Sakura said. She didn't answer. "Mother?" She glanced toward her. Yukio was still, looking past Sakura at the entrance of the tent. Fear assailed her immediately. _Please don't be word of his death..._

She turned and found a man standing there. "Who—who are you?" her mother asked from behind, her voice high and wavering. The annoyance was present, but there was also fear there, which made Sakura's heart jump.

Something about the swordsman's appearance told the dancer that this man was not a part of the army. His robes were stained and tattered—his armor incomplete. Upon his face was a white mask with a red handprint.

Is that blood?

"You," he said, pointing directly at Sakura. "With me. Now."

"She's not going with you," Yukio said as she moved in front of Sakura, a warding arm thrust back toward her.

He moved past Yukio and Yoko. Fast—taking Sakura by the back of the neck. His steal grip pained her and she cried out.

Yoko and Yukio moved to react, but the assailant batted them away and marched Sakura out of the tent.

Kaiya and Yumiko stopped short, water dropped to the ground, forgotten. Like her mother, the two dancers cried out for help, but with a battle raging at the base of the temple, and another in the harbor, there were no soldiers to assist them in the immediate area.

"Soldiers!" Kaiya barked. "Yumiko! Go!" Kaiya, reacting quickly, ran toward the temple. Yukio was slower, but ran to catch up.

They wouldn't return with soldiers to help. Not in time before this ragged swordsman walked Sakura out of the temple grounds.

Several times the others attempted to intervene, but the man, like before, batted them away, sending them into the dirt with bloodied faces.

Finally he turned. "Tell the mage to come with the White Feather to the northern tower in the harbor at sunset, or she dies."

They fled for help as he led Sakura out of the camp, her legs shaking. "Where are you taking me?"

He didn't answer, simply pushed Sakura forward as he released his steal grip. "Walk," he commanded.

She knew she wouldn't be able to escape him.

## The Daimyō

Hukama's forces were spread too thin within Yukai City. Between keeping the sewers guarded and various strongholds within the city, he didn't have the forces necessary to fight on three fronts.

His captains beamed at their new reinforcements arriving from the southern gate. Ujio felt pride and hope as well. "How many men did you bring?" he asked Captain Kachizuma.

The man bowed in respect, though Sakuraichi was not his _daimyō_. I have four-hundred archers, six-hundred spears and five-hundred samurai.

"And the rest?"

"Peasant fighters, my lord."

Ujio nodded, then turned to his commanders. Muji, the giant masked samurai known as the Demon was here. "Now is our time to strike—hard and fast. Much of our strategy will be dependent on my forces besieged at the Western Temple to take advantage of our attack."

Ujio turned to Kachizuma. "How did you know to come?"

"It was a woman. She—"

"Glided on the wind?"

" _Hai!_ "

Ujio smiled, and Muji stepped forward. "Where is Haku?" the big samurai asked.

"North. She will respond accordingly," Ujio said. "I have no doubt that she is at the harbor with the emperor. When she realizes what is happening, she will inform Kozuo- _san_ of his new orders."

"What of the witch and her creature?"

Not uttering the words aloud, those two mercenaries concerned the _daimyō_ greatly. Were they in his employ? _Or are they loyal to Hukama?_ "Muji."

" _Hai_?"

"I will harry Hukama's forces at the base of the Western Temple while he fights our forces holding that position. You will strike the harbor from the south, and find that witch. She belongs to Hukama and she has betrayed me—you know what to do."

" _Hai,_ _daimyō-sama!_ " Muji shouted orders to his captains and they trotted off.

Are these the consequences of my decisions?

Assassinating the emperor was a treacherous act. He needed treacherous people to do that. The assassin. That witch and her creature. All turned on him. He should not be surprised.

The way of the snake brings backbiting and dishonor. I have shamed myself.

He did not let the regret show on his face. He was doing what was necessary—what Mikuma and Yukai City needed. But... the path he had to tread was one of dishonor, danger and very likely his eventual death.

"Kachizuma. With me."

The commander of their newly arrived forces stepped in behind Ujio as he made his way into their new makeshift command post. Addressing one of the ninja there, he said, "My wife and daughters. Take them out of the city."

The ninja bowed and without any more fanfare left the command post to do his bidding. The _daimyō_ had been far too preoccupied up until now and had completely forgotten about their safety.

Another source of shame on his part, knowing he had been worrying about Haku far more than them. He wasn't fit to be the emperor of Mikuma—but neither was Kurosawa.

I will do what must be done. For my country and my culture.

"No longer will Mikuma be the whore of the world," he said aloud. He nearly startled himself. He hadn't meant to say the words where others may hear, but the men around him nodded in agreement and determination to their combined resolve.

He felt proud.

# Chapter Twelve—Wakiagaru

## The Dancer

Sakura was shaking as they walked down the quiet street, the sounds of the battle raging behind them and fading at their backs. She couldn't escape. This warrior didn't even bother to bind her or to keep a hand on her shoulder. __

We both know I can't escape.

"What do you want with me?" she asked for the third time. Like before, the man did not answer, only kept silent behind his white mask. The bloody handprint there frightened her. Did he put that there, or had one of his victims done it during his death throes?

Some samurai with swords and spears trotted past them toward the battle. Many of them were coming down the street in a long line. On the corners were flag bearers pointing the way toward the battle. These men were not Mikuman.

Would the emperor escape this battle or would he perish? Perhaps whatever outcome, the sooner the better, so this would all be over.

Something caught the dancer's eye, and she glanced up the face of a guard tower. At the top, standing next to the railing was a woman and a small man. Both were foreigners.

Somehow she knew this warrior was taking her to them. But why? What did they want with her?

Sakura let out a shuttering breath. She would probably never see Lawrence again. Perhaps he would wonder what happened to her? Never find out?

I'm so sorry...

## The Witch

Their perch atop this tower gave Ladya an excellent view of the battle. "Beautiful," she said.

Beside her, that wretched "spider" snarled wordlessly. Often he only slathered like a beast. His mind was broken. Perhaps she could still use him. Upon thinking what she could use, Ladya could almost smell what she wanted here—sense it in the very air.

Magic.

"Several individuals."

Her spiders would soon feast upon them. They were excellent creatures for drawing out the blood and not wasting a single drop. She needed that blood—and untainted—if she was going to harness the energy. It was worth far more to her than what Hukama was paying for her services.

The spider caught eye of something in the street below, because he moved closer to the railing to get a look. Ladya peered down her nose at the beggarly samurai and the woman he had with him.

"Kat."

The other woman's voice came from behind. "Yes, Mistress?"

"We have a visitor," she said languidly. "See that he finds us."

## The Dancer

A young woman wearing a black cloak and pointed hood met them, leading the way up into the tower. At the railing, there was another woman there, wearing luxurious foreign clothing. Beside her there was a small hunching man wearing a kimono in the Mikuman style, though he wasn't from Mikuma—that much she could see by looking at him.

The woman, tall, turned slightly. Her face shone in the moonlight. She was beautiful. "Ah," she said, "The Sword of a Thousand Suns has returned." She turned to address her captor and her eyes went to Sakura. "And what is this?"

"My prisoner," he said. "She is not to be harmed."

The woman sniffed, then seemed thoughtful as she looked at Sakura from head to toe. "Mmm."

That look—she didn't like it. It seemed lascivious in a way. "Are you not just the yummiest thing? I could feel _you_ approaching from the edge of the harbor."

"I said she's not to be harmed."

"I heard you, swordsman."

The small hunching man looked upon Sakura with a similar interest, but his was a more open, unbridled hunger, slathering even.

"Hmm," the woman noised thoughtfully. "What are your aims, Karimato- _san?_ " The honorific, she stressed with what sounded to the dancer like mild contempt.

Her captor—Karimato—the name... it seemed familiar. He said nothing. _Have I heard this name before?_

Finally he said, "I seek a duel with the White Feather."

"Ah," the tall woman said. "Now it makes sense. I wonder, would your master Hukama- _sama_ approve?"

"It's not your concern, witch."

The little man beside her seemed confused. The "witch" as her captor had called her, breathed in deeply as she looked about across the harbor where the battle was taking place. It was much too quiet now.

"The battle is over, it seems. Perhaps you will get what you wish, swordsman. Assuming this "White Feather" of yours hasn't perished."

"She's alive," he said.

"And how do you presume to get her here?"

"She will come," he said enigmatically.

"Oh, a plot! I love plots—I love mysteries."

The small man beside her seemed to be even more confounded than before. "Oh never mind your simple brain can't fathom this, dog."

He snarled up at her, demanded she not call him that. In reply she giggled. "Well... you're certainly no spider either. Tell me, Karimato- _san_. Tell me your plans. Perhaps I can assist?"

Sakura felt so out of place standing there on the guard walk between her captor and these other characters at her front looking over the harbor.

Why had the fighting stopped? What happened?

And then the woman looked at her, addressing her directly. "Your emperor is no doubt dead. That is why the battle has ceased." She said the words with unbridled amusement.

Sakura sucked in a sharp breath. _Impossible. How can the emperor be dead?_ But somehow her thoughts went directly to Lawrence and his wellbeing. _Is he alive?_

"So," the woman continued. "Can I assume this"—she looked Sakura up and down again—"this girl is of very little use to you, so long as you get what you want? This White Feather woman?"

"Yes."

"Very well," she said, looking back out across the harbor. "I want this woman. Promise to give her to me and I will assist you in your aims. Can we make an arrangement?"

"I do not require your assistance, witch," he said contemptuously, though his tone was quiet and level.

"Ah, but you might find that you do. How else will you get the White Feather here? Does she have some connection to the girl?"

Who is this White Feather?

Sakura heard mention of her in the camp but she didn't remember ever seeing the woman, though she had heard Lawrence mention her. Or had she been that woman they met in the forest?

"The mage will come," Karimato said, joining the woman and the small hunching man at the railing.

"The White Feather..." the tall woman mused. "She's no mage. Who do you speak of? The plot thickens, it seems."

"He will bring her to me."

In his voice, Sakura could sense the tinged annoyance there. "Well," the woman said sweetly. "I will assist you, should you require it of me. After you are finished with your task, you will no doubt have no need for this mage or this girl you have brought here."

"Perhaps," Karimato said.

The witch smiled, giggling, a tinkling, musical sound. "Let us find out what will happen."

## The White Feather

Thanking the _kami_ that the Sword of a Thousand Suns lost her on her descent of the Western Temple during her trip to the other side of the city, she rushed across Yukai City once again, gliding from roof to roof with near abandon as she made her way back north—to the harbor where she was needed most.

Haku needed to get back as quickly as possible.

Now that she had brought reinforcements to Ujio, he would no doubt want to make a move against Hukama. His forces protecting the emperor in the north needed to know this information.

She jumped, the wind making her kimono flutter as cold raindrops splashed against her face. It was hard flying against the coming winds being pushed in from that mass of black, roiling clouds behind the mountains.

## The Smuggler's Daughter

With war always came strife and the need for goods, whatever they were. They were prepared, and their holds had been unloaded and hidden away under the noses of these occupiers. They seemed distracted. Probably because the conflict had only just begun.

Nara sat at a table by herself. Watching the men, the surroundings and the locals as they came and went.

She gulped down some of the local rice wine they called _sakè_ as she eyed the tavern space. _It's not really a tavern—more of an inn._ The locals didn't seem to know what to do with her crew, but they wanted the coin, so they had served them.

Only a few had come ashore—six men in total, and Nara of course. There were plenty of locals here as well. Among them were some cat eye and even an oni man in the corner. These people seemed to stay largely to themselves, and Nara thought she felt tension between them and the local Mikuman inhabitants of Yukai City.

A man came into the tavern, slightly aging. Nara could see immediately that he was out of place. Nervous. Perhaps he was not on good terms with the occupiers. _A spy, perhaps?_

They had seen fit to leave the eastern part of the bay largely unmolested. Some ships still came and went. It made little sense to the smuggler's daughter. _Perhaps it was some sort of military strategy._

If that was the case, she felt nervous. She didn't want to be a part of some strategy, especially if the outcome of that strategy was unknown.

She got up, sauntered to the man who had just entered, looked about warily and then finally seated himself. She told the keep to get her another _sakè_ , though she was probably already a little drunk, then had him pour one for the new guy.

" _Arigatou_ ," he said.

"Where you from, stranger?" Nara asked.

"I'm from here."

"I figured as much," she said casually. "Why so shifty?"

His nervousness increased. " _Nani?—_ I mean _—_ what?"

"You came in here because you need something—not because you want a drink," Nara said. "I'm a smuggler. I know how criminals think, and how they act when they're no good at it." She said the words, all the time gesturing about with her small ceramic of wine.

"I'm a loyal Mikuman samurai. I have no criminal dealings."

"Yeah."

"It is true."

"Then why you lookin' about all scared-like?"

The old samurai narrowed his eyes and got up from the counter. "Thank you for the drink. I should be on my way."

"Hey," she called, giving the man pause. "I'm a criminal. If you need something, we're the ones to ask," she added, gesturing to her crew and her father, a white-haired, white-bearded man at the far end of the counter.

She got off her seat, leaned toward the man. They were of an even height. These locals were so short, though she wasn't too tall herself. "We're lookin' to make some coin." She smiled, probably stupidly, because she felt great right now. Maybe she had had too much to drink. Surely she had?

_No,_ _I've drunk more before._

But then, she did feel rather light on her feet.

The man looked her straight in the eyes for what seemed like minutes, looked about some more, and then finally nodded.

"Then let's speak, smuggler."

She smiled broadly and the man took a step back as his nostrils flared.

## The Old Samurai

After negotiating with the smugglers, they had got on Hitomo's skiff and started across the harbor waters. The sea was choppy, despite the waters being sheltered here. Getting the criminals to agree to his terms hadn't been difficult, as only a handful of their crew would be sailing the _Akaima Dancing Fan_ anyway, allowing them to continue conducting their "business" in Yuka City.

The old Samurai glanced about, looking across the shore and the harbor. He couldn't see yet, but he could hear the battle. Hitomo Nakamura hadn't swung a sword in years. He hoped he wouldn't have to now. The old samurai didn't even have his blade—it had been tucked away long ago and was now back at their _machiya_ on the other side of Yukai City.

He glanced across the water toward the harbor that was now being obscured by the peninsula where the _Akaima Dancing Fan_ was anchored. Turning to the others, they too were looking across the water, toward the sounds of battle, though they couldn't see anything. Not now.

"This ship..." the smuggler said, trailing off. "Where is it?"

Hitomo pointed. "Not far, now."

What if they try to steal the ship?

There were only five of these smugglers in the skiff—a skeleton crew at best. But that's all they needed to get out of Mikuma.

"Others will be coming," he said. "We do not set sail as soon as we board. Do you understand?" He turned and gave a severe look to the smuggler and his daughter Nara.

The man nodded his ascent and obeisance to Hitomo, though he still didn't trust the man. Smugglers were not to be trusted on principle. He hoped Tomiichi was on the ship. _We could have planned this better._

"You sure you're good for the coin you promised?" It was Nara's father with the question. She too looked at him skeptically.

" _Hai!_ " he said, bearing his teeth. "On my honor as a samurai."

Nara raised an eyebrow. "If you're really a samurai, aren't you supposed to be fighting in the battle?"

Hitomo spread his arms. "As you see, I am an old man. I would do more harm than good."

"Surely."

He narrowed his eyes at her rudeness. _Perhaps she would like another sakè to take the edge off..._

"Hey gramps," she said, "you got any _sakè_ on board your ship?" She asked from the back of the skiff where she sat languidly, a huge grin across her face and her colorful boots in full view. In her sash was a curved sword and over her shoulder hung a stringed instrument that somewhat resembled a stunted _shamisen_ lute.

How she managed to keep her fur-trimmed conical hat on in this heat—even in the cool breeze—he didn't know. And the cuffs of her tunic dress... also fur-trimmed.

These foreigners are so strange.

Had the situation not been so dangerous—had the samurai not been afraid for the lives of his family—he'd have rolled his eyes at her question.

" _Gomen,_ " he said, not looking back to address her directly.

This was a very bad idea...

## The Winged Blade

"Lady Knight," her aide, Numiwaro, called. "Lady Knight! A path to the _Mizuka_ has been cleared."

"Indeed," Liandra said. She turned to her men. "Stay with the Emperor. I go to secure the ship."

The mage came in beside her. "Where have you been?"

"I was occupied." He seemed tired as he drew his sword. "I won't be using any fire on that ship."

She would have said something, but now there was no time, so she simply nodded at his words.

To the men behind them, she commanded, "Forward!" The samurai there rushed ahead, archers behind as they made their way onto the docks. Liandra glanced into the waters, contemplating the dangers there for armor wearers such as her.

The samurai went up the gangplank, Lawrence and Liandra trailing them. There were no signs of the enemy anywhere on deck.

The mage looked about, his sword lowered. "Where are they?"

"Check the hold," Liandra said.

The samurai moved to obey and opened up the battened-down hatch leading into the ship. They filed down the companionway. The men moved about, searching for enemies.

She smelled it. Had smelled it going down. It was quiet inside the hold, save for their footsteps. "Is that...?"

"Oil," Lawrence said, sliding his foot over the deck boards. "The ship is covered in it."

Liandra caught herself mid gasp. "It's a trap."

"Yes."

"Everyone out!" She turned and hustled back up the stairs, her boots thumping madly on the boards. "EVERYONE OUT!"

The mage came out behind her as she looked about wildly.

"There!" Lawrence was pointing toward the stern—to a small feminine figure in black. She tossed a torch and did a backflip off the aft castle, disappearing from view.

The breath went out of here. "No..."

" _Run!_ " the mage shouted as he dashed passed Liandra for the docks. She was right behind him, the samurai trailing her.

She could hear the flames.

And then...

Thunder and heat.

She was above the dock—arms flailing. And then the water came rushing at her. Liandra sunk like a stone. Instinctually she swam for the surface, but her efforts were useless.

Her vision blurred, the light from the surface was intense as the ship was engulfed in flames. There was a muffled boom and light leapt across the surface, revealing the wavy sand and barnacles below her.

There's no way I'm going to die like this.

The knight commander's feet touched bottom. She looked about to orient herself. She was deep underwater, but the bank wasn't far—though the incline was much too steep.

Then she caught sight of the barnacled supports of the dock. She might have been too heavy to swim, but she wasn't too heavy to haul herself up one of those supports.

Are my samurai dead? How had the ship exploded like that?

## The Hurg Assassin

The ship went up in flames just as Yuko jumped off the stern castle. Urhaggha watched as she summersaulted in midair and dove into the water just before the ship went up. Moments later thunderous roar swept past him as fire and black smoke licked up into the air—the waters surrounding the vessel pushing outward in a wave-high ripple. He was surprised at how effective the fire powder from Daixen was.

Emperor Kurosawa's escape had just gone up in flames. Literally. Now was the time for Urhaggha to make his move—during the confusion.

He jumped off the _machiya_ roof and landed in the road, ran toward the line of Hukama's soldiers fighting the Imperial Army and jumped over them.

Surveying the area in midair, he landed and rolled to break his fall and charged straight toward the Imperial Emperor and his soldiers.

The foreign knights and the samurai ahead of him reacted just in time as they called out orders to defend, but it was too late. Urhaggha was already upon them.

Throwing out his left arm, he pushed the lead knight's sword away and rammed himself through their lines, bowling over the enemy warriors like men made of grass.

The bodies thickened as the Emperor's Guard pressed in to defend their leader.

With speed and agility, he crouched below those swords and pirouetted, both blades on his vambraces cutting through the legs of his enemies.

Men cried out and fell. Urhaggha jumped, flipping in the air and landed atop the group amidst the Emperor's immediate aides.

The hurg tore them to shreds, his blades slicing through flesh, his hands grabbing limbs. Bodies fell, tumbled, and flew from the assassin as he did his deadly work among the screaming panicked men.

Having cleared the press of swords and spears trying to make their way to him, Urhaggha came upon Kurosawa, practically safe from the Emperor's own men, as he was within the circle of noncombatants.

" _No!_ " men shouted and cries of fear and alarm went up. " _Protect the Emperor! Protect Emperor Kurosawa!_ "

Kurosawa's eyes widened at the moment of recognition—recognition of his imminent death as the hurg assassin shunted forward, his vambrace blade taking the Imperial Emperor directly through the stomach.

With speed faster than these weak humans, Urhaggha lifted the emperor into the air, twisted and slammed him back down into the ground so hard his head bounced, the bludgeoning alone enough to kill him without having gotten a blade stuck through his body.

Swords and spears came in at him, but the assassin crouched and jumped again, doing a backflip summersault, landing outside of the circle of failed protection. He ran for the line, hails of arrows sticking in the yard about him.

He jumped back over the line of battle to safety, having completed the majority of his mission. Soldiers regarded him as he marched away from the fighting. One of them approached him and started pulling shafts out of his armor.

Taken aback, Urhaggha was surprised he was being assisted. Most men were afraid to speak to him, much less touch him. The raiment the assassin wore had protected him fully, though his upper arms were exposed, no arrows made their way to those parts of his body. And had they, his skin was quite tough, something afforded him by the gods to his superior race.

Now I must find the heirs.

"Have you seen a small woman in black?" he asked the samurai pulling the arrows out of his back. "She has a whip."

" _Hai,_ " the man said, his voice deep. He pointed to a _machiya_ and Urhaggha made his way into the small dwelling where he found the courtesan lounging on a piece of furniture as if she hadn't just swam from a ship that had gone up in flames.

"We've done well, but our contract has not been completed."

The woman nodded, stoic as she ever was.

## The Winged Blade

Heaving herself up and breaking the surface of the water, Liandra gasped for air. For a moment she hung, simply catching her breath after nearly drowning, headless of the battle not far off, or the hot flames still on the surface of the water where pieces of the ship floated.

The smoke was thick. It burned her throat. She coughed hoarsely as she gripped the dock. Liandra screamed in frustration as she hauled herself up.

She lay on her stomach, catching her breath.

The ship... it's gone. How are we going to get the Emperor out of Mikuma?

She looked up, but couldn't see far due to the thick haze of smoke blowing over her. She couldn't tell what was darker in shade, the smoke, or the sky. She got to her knees, wiped her face and trudged along the docks until she made it to land.

She slowed, still wobbly on her feet. As the smoke cleared, her eyes widened in shock.

No! Not possible!

The Emperor's guard was in tatters. Her knights were still alive, but men lay dead and scattered. Some cried out in grief, and Liandra knew their Imperial Highness had been assassinated.

"What has"—she coughed into her plated forearm—"happened here!"

Zandersan came forward. "Assassin," was all he said.

Liandra surveyed the group of men, the Emperor's body in the arms of Masaru, the crown prince. The mage was there. Evidentially he had survived the destruction of their only ship.

"We move back to the Western Temple," she commanded.

Yorikana, a pained look on his face, ran to the Knight Commander. He pointed at the battle lines. "We may not have to," he said. "The enemy. They're retreating."

She turned. _Of course they are. They've succeeded in their mission._

But turning back to the prince, she knew that this wasn't over. "Where's the Princess?" Yorikana didn't answer. He seemed distracted. "I said, where is the Princess, man?"

Coming too, the Mikuma general turned and pointed farther up the supply line. "Over the hill."

"Pull our forces back," she told him.

The mage approached, breathing heavily. "I have something to tell you."

"Later."

"Now."

She paused for a moment as he walked off out of earshot. Liandra sighed, then she followed. "What is it?"

"There's another ship."

Instantly she felt her spirits rise. "Another ship? Where? How do you know this?"

He raised a hand. "It's hidden."

"Tell me where it is," she demanded. "We must get the royal heirs out of Mikuma!"

"I'll tell you where the ship is on one condition."

"We don't have time for conditions, mage. If you have a ship, you damned well better tell me or I'll—"

"I said I have a condition."

She narrowed her eyes. "Fine. What is this _condition_ you speak of?"

## The Failed Mage

Lawrence ran back to the Western Temple, passing soldiers running to and from the battlefield location in the harbor.

_Commander Arduani agreed to my terms,_ he thought. _But I need to be careful._

The failed mage wasn't entirely certain he could trust her. She was an honorable woman, but if she had to make a choice between following through with her agreement and saving the royal heirs, she would choose the later.

He came to the tent where Sakura and her family had been staying and went inside. He was not expecting to see Yukio crying in the arms of Sakura's younger sister Yoko. The other two Akaima dancers were there.

He knew something was wrong.

"Where is she?"

Yukio looked up. There was surprise there, and the disapproval had evaporated. Only a beseeching expression remained. "They took her," she sobbed. "They took my daughter."

Lawrence looked over the women. Kaiya had a purple bruise around her left eye, and Yuko a bloodied lip with a large bruise on the side of her face as well.

"Who took her?"

"We don't know," Kaiya said. "Some man. A swordsman. He wants you."

"Me?"

"He asked for you specifically."

"Did he say why?"

Yukio shook her head furiously. "He wants a woman. He called her the White Feather? He said you would bring her."

Lawrence narrowed his eyes. _Why would he take Sakura and demand that I bring him Haku?_

"Please," Yukio begged with hands clasped. "Do as he says. Bring back my daughter. Bring Sakura back!"

Lawrence put a hand on her shoulder. "I will. You have my word."

She nodded, tears still streaming down her face. She was desperate, and hopeful. " _Arigatou!_ Thank you!"

"Now," Lawrence commanded, "the four of you need to get to the ship. Commander Arduani is going there now with the royal heirs and I don't know if she will wait until I return. The battle has stopped, so it's safe. For now."

"But Sakura—" Yukio began.

"I will bring her back," Lawrence promised. "And if the ship departs before we get back, then I will get her out of Mikuma." Wrist on her forehead, Yukio looked like she was about to faint as her younger daughter held her by the shoulders. Lawrence turned to the stronger among the women. "Kaiya. See that they get to the ship."

The dancer nodded. "Bring her back, mage!"

He nodded solemnly one last time, then left the tent.

Lawrence gritted his teeth. He was furious with himself. It made him run faster in the direction of the ship where he would find Haku. He had no time to wait for the women. He had to make it to the _Akaima Dancing Fan_ to ask the White Feather for her assistance, and to assure himself that Arduani wouldn't set sail until he had brought Sakura back.

## The Hurg Assassin

They had two more royals to assassinate. The Emperor had been easy—the Prince and Princess would be even easier. Urhaggha took no pleasure in it. He would do what he was contracted to do.

And so he had watched. The hurg Assassin stood atop the high foothills in the waist-high grass and surveyed the harbor. He had spotted the hidden ship after killing the Emperor and knew that the others would be secreted away in no time, now that the battle had ended. The Princess would also be there. Less important, but still on his list.

The cold wind gusted past him, leaves swirling. Hukama's forces had retreated into the streets while the Imperial Mikuma forces remained within the tree line.

The fighting could begin again at any time.

Urhaggha's eyes were drawn to the outskirts of the army as a detachment made for the forested foothills protecting the last ship from view.

_They cannot escape._ He pointed to the movement. "There."

"I see," Yuko said from behind him. She didn't need to be told what to do, and that was why the hurg assassin liked working with her.

The courtesan darted away, no doubt planning to take up a position to ambush the group. Urhaggha would provide the largest distraction by attacking them unexpectedly.

They would have to attack swiftly, surprise their enemy, and kill the heirs before they knew what was happening.

There are heroes among them. No doubt they will be there—protecting her.

That was the assassin's only concern.

## The Princess Heir

The ship wasn't very far, they had told her, but they'd been running since leaving the Western Temple and Noriko was out of breath.

"I'm—I'm tired..."

"We mustn't stop, child," Dija said, not even bothering to turn to look at her as she yanked the princess along by the wrist, dozens of samurai surrounding them in long lines.

"I'm scared. Where is my father?"

They were also flanked by fifty or so of the royal guard. "Everything will be fine, Princess," Mika assured.

Noriko glanced up ahead. There were so many soldiers around her. How all these men in their armor—especially the foreigners, covered from head to toe in metal—could keep up, she didn't know.

Something had made a really loud noise—like an explosion? She had seen the fire and smoke. Was that intentional? They had skirted the battle, but Noriko never saw it. They were in the forest now, and there were hills.

The rain was starting, and the cool wind blew hard, making the trees sway. The princess was too out of breath to go on. "I... can't." She stopped, almost falling to her knees since Dija didn't stop yanking on her wrist immediately. The cat eye turned. "We cannot stop. Look about you, Princess. We are fleeing. Your father the Emperor and brother are fleeing. They're probably waiting for us at the ship right now! We're leaving these lands before our position is overtaken."

"I know!" Noriko said, falling to her knees.

One of the knights approached. "Are you all right, Highness?"

"Yes—I just... need to catch my breath," she said, breathing heavily.

"I will carry you."

They certainly seemed hasty. _But why is that? Are father's forces losing the battle now?_

She jerked her eyes up and suddenly he was bending beside her and scooping her up into his arms. She almost yelped.

"What—" Dija exclaimed, but stopped herself mid protest. She nodded. "Let us go, then."

"Shields!" one of the knights ahead called.

"Guard the princess!" another exclaimed, this man having a distinct Mikuma accent as he bellowed the commands.

Noriko looked up ahead, along with Mika, Dija and the rest of the soldiers surrounding them.

"What's happening?!" Dija yelped, looking about, an almost feral nature to her.

"Stay close, Princess," Mika said, not looking at her. She too was glancing about, her knife bared.

Mika would have said something about not being able to stray, but she was distracted. Soldiers were running about, some of them getting into a line.

Are we being attacked?

## The Winged Blade

Had they really gotten this fortunate turn of luck to bestow its graciousness upon them? A hidden ship on the other side of the peninsula—right there all along?

The Knight Commander of the Winged Blades was just waiting for something to go wrong. She glanced about into the forest. The foothills lowered her visibility to see far off. She had sent scouts, but they couldn't always be relied upon.

"Settle down." the mage told her, walking beside Liandra. He had caught up with them after leaving her at the harbor.

She jerked her face toward the man. He was breathing hard, not looking at her. "Don't tell me to settle down. The Emperor has just died under my watch. I'm taking no chances."

"I've already been to and from the ship," Lawrence said. "There's been no sign of the enemy anywhere in the area—much less on her decks."

"Still..."

Liandra turned to regard the column. Prince Masaru had been placed up front and surrounded by two of her knights, and behind came the princess, also surrounded by imperial soldiers and her other two knights.

In case of attack, she had them separated, rather than providing two targets in close proximity to one another. As it stood now, only Masaru knew of the emperor's death, while the princess was currently unaware.

Liandra wanted to snarl, to cut some enemy to pieces. If that damned assassin came at them again, he wouldn't be able to jump into their ranks and kill them both at the same time.

"I've never seen a hurg so dangerous in all my life," she muttered. "The prince can barely walk. I don't know how he survived when his father did not. The princess was just over the hill. She still doesn't know..."

"Neither have I," he said, obviously in answer to her comment about the hurg. "He almost killed me coming to the temple, but Sakura saved my life." He glanced back. "I feel bad for the Princess."

"So do I. Who is Sakura?"

"My—" He paused for a moment, then seemed to change what he wanted to say. "She's someone important to me."

A lover, perhaps? Is that what all your running about is for?"

"I see. How did she save you?" she asked the question without looking at him. She wouldn't be distracted now of all times, when they were nearly out of this place—away from danger.

"She has healing magic," the mage said. "That hurg assassin nearly broke my skull, but she healed me."

"That 'hurg assassin' is called Urhaggha, a known killer on some parts of the world. You're lucky to be alive."

"I know."

_Why he was let into the palace, I don't know,_ she thought. _Such foolishness and ineptitude._

"How is it that the knowledge of this ship's location became known to you, mage?"

"It belongs to her troupe," he said. "Sakura's. She's called the _Akaima Dancing Fan._ "

"This friend of yours is one of the _Dancing Fans?_ "

"Yes."

"I'm surprised you have such interesting friends," Liandra said.

The mage smirked. "You have no idea, knight."

"Well then"—something cracked in the trees above the hill to their right. She turned her head to her right, peered out into the forest.

"What is it?"

"Something is wrong." She felt it coming.

" _Look out!_ "

Like the wind, the hurg assassin shot out from the trees in an arc that would land him directly atop Prince Masaru.

Liandra jumped and intercepted the hurg in mid-air.

Her vision shook and she grunted when she landed on her back. The clanging of armor and weapons being drawn amidst shouts of alarm erupted about her.

He kicked me in mid-air?

Liandra groaned again. Something exploded. Soldiers shouted and cried furiously with the intent to kill.

When she fully came to, she took the offered hand and was helped up by the mage, who kept his eyes trained on the hills ahead while the grass there crackled and burned, but not much, since it was wet. His arms were lit with glowing marks.

Men were scrambling everywhere. Especially at their front while lines of men came back to surround the princess. She started to make her way to the prince. "What happened?"

"Masaru," the mage said.

"The prince?"

"He's dead."

" _What?!_ "

"You were unconscious for several moments."

Her mouth wide open, Liandra didn't know how to respond. __

How can this be? I've failed?

## The Princess Heir

They had tried to keep her away from him. But she wouldn't allow it. Tears streaming down her face, Princess Noriko was almost heedless of the battle as she cradled her brother in her arms while she sat in the dirt.

"We can't stay like this," Dija snapped. "We're pray sitting still in a clearing."

There were so many Imperial soldiers surrounding her, Noriko couldn't see through them as fighting erupted from not far off.

Mika came down into the dirt next to her. She sat on her knees and put a hand on Noriko's shoulder. 'I'm sorry, but you need to be ready to flee, Princess."

She shook her head. "I can't. I can't leave him!"

How could this happen? First father and now Masaru.

"Kill them," she shouted to the troops, unable to lift her gaze from her brother's face—his dead eyes. She closed them, turning away in a fit of sobs. "KILL THEM!"

Kami-sama, why have you allowed this to happen?

"He's running!" someone shouted. "Pursue him! Pursue the assassin!" It sounded like the Winged Blades woman.

Men shouted.

Boots and sandals stamped about.

She could barely hear any of it.

Something exploded in the hills behind them as dozens of feet stomped about the path and up into the brush.

Men cleared, making way for her. Noriko looked up at her. The Commander gave pause, looked at Masaru. "We have to go."

"I can't leave him."

"We won't," Arduani said. "You, you and you. Carry the Prince." She pointed a demanding finger. "The rest of you, protect her with your lives. Surround her. Leave no openings. The rest of you, fan out—weapons up! _We move!!!_ "

Noriko got up, assisted by Mika and Dija. She turned, watched the soldiers pick up her brother's body. Her throat felt thick. She could hardly swallow.

"Come, Princess," Mika said, putting her arm around her shoulder.

Mika smiled wanly. Noriko touched her hand, thankful for her friends. She nodded, mouth trembling.

## The White Feather

Sword naked and held high in her grip, Haku rushed Yuko. The little woman did a summersault, landing behind some underbrush.

She had arrived late. The White Feather had arrived _late_ in the middle of a scuffle between the assassins and the Imperial Army escort. She had barely caught sight of the prince's body, his sister cradling his cold corpse when she spotted Yuko in the trees.

The White Feather jumped over the large-leafed vines after the assassin's accomplice. She was fast, faster than Haku as she ran up and over the hill into the trees. She pursued the woman, but when she crested the small hill, she was gone.

Someone came up behind her. She turned, blade raised. Haku narrowed her eyes as Urhaggha came up short. "What are you doing?" she snapped.

"What I was told to do."

He almost turned to leave, but Haku stepped forward, her _katana_ at the ready, a warning that if he did not desist, she would battle him along with the others. The assassin paused.

"I never leave a contract undone," he added.

_Was the contract some holy thing he venerated?_ "I told you, _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi no longer wishes you to slay the Emperor and yet you disobeyed me—and now you pursue the heirs?"

Something cracked behind her, but Haku was faster than the whip. She pirouetted as she swung her blade in a short arc, cutting the end off of Yuko's whip. She was facing the hurg again before he could lunge for her.

"I see," she said. "You're Hukama's creature. You have been all along."

She could tell the hurg wanted to attack her, but he flinched at the sound of troops coming from behind. Yuko, fast on her feet, travelled a wide arc around the two of them to face the enemy.

Haku narrowed her eyes, ready for the coming attack. It came. The assassin was fast—very fast, but Haku was able to parry every one of his blows with her _katana_.

She jumped back, creating space between them, but he came forward, closing the distance again with a kick, his powerful foot strong enough to break her leg.

She dodged his attack and sliced for his back, but he turned and parried her blade with his vambrace.

She jumped back.

Had she not been winded from her excessive traveling about the city, he'd have been no match for her speed.

Shouts and explosions erupted from behind, and Yuko came rushing through the brush. "Too many," she shouted.

The Hurg didn't waste time—he too ran, Haku jumped out of his path as he ran deeper into the forest.

The White Feather lowered her blade when Lawrence came into view, flanked by two dozen Imperial soldiers.

"We need to regroup," the mage said. "The Prince is dead. Assassinated."

She nearly stepped back in shock at the confirmation. Haku nodded somberly and they regrouped with the rest of the column. It seemed the Prince wasn't their only casualty, as ten or so Imperial samurai lay dead, along with two of Arduani's knights from the Winged Blades.

"Where are they?" Haku asked?

"Arduani pushed on ahead while the assassins were distracted."

"Let us meet them at the ship, then."

## The Princess Heir

How could this be? _Father... dead? Masaru as well?_

Noriko stopped halfway up the gang plank, hand to her breast. She felt numb, but in this moment it all seemed to hit her. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't see. What would she do now?

She was alone. She had no family left. None. She had no country. What would she do now?

Warmth enveloped her hand atop the rope hold. She turned, found Mika there.

"Oh Princess. I'm so, so sorry."

The next she knew she was in Mika's arms. Noriko felt some small comfort there, as if the girl were a stone-walled bastion keeping everything else out.

But only a little.

## The Handmaiden

"I will always be here for you," Mika said as she held the princess close. Noriko wasn't a royal right now—simply a girl keening into her friend's shoulder at the loss of her family.

Mika glanced toward Dija on the gangplank, the old cat eye looking somber as tears began to blur the handmaiden's vision.

Dija nodded, not as a mark of approval, Mika knew, but for solidarity in providing comfort to their new Empress.

But an empress of what?

Her face flushed. It was strange, has Mika had never felt so saddened, and yet so angry at the same time. Looking at the older woman's expression, she thought Dija felt some of the same emotions as her.

She put a hand atop the Empress' head. They had to protect her.

## The Winged Blade

The commander of the Winged Blades watched as the princess wept in her maid's arms. _The poor girl. She's just lost her whole family._

She was still breathing heavily from the previous confrontation and the run to the shore. There was no time to grieve. Liandra looked about for the rest of her men—some were missing. If they weren't here, she would leave them. Jon trotted out of the forest, along with Yasuri and Arkuval.

"Where are the others?" she asked.

Jon shook his head. "Zandersan and Brendan were both killed, Commander. They... didn't die well."

"Damn those two for failing me—especially that pretentious Brendan!"

Jon flinched. "Commander?"

"...always going on about their.... What is it?"

"Commander, those men just died."

"Yeah? And what of it? I'll make them apologize to me when I see them in the Evermore. Jon, what did I tell you when I accepted you into my command?"

"You said that I wouldn't receive special treatment."

"What else did I say?"

"That if I died it would be my own fault."

"And whose problem is that?"

"Yours?"

"That's right."

He seemed disheartened at her words. Liandra made a sound of disgust, then offered some quick words. "It's unfortunate. They were good soldiers. Good knights—though I can't say I'll miss either of them, the pair of arrogant gits that they were."

Yasuri snorted. He'd been with the Winged Blades long enough to know how their commander behaved when losing men.

"We'll burn offerings," she continued, "to the gods that their souls might find their way to the Evermore Groves. But when we get back. For now—put them from your mind—we have work to do."

"Yes, Commander," Jon said with a nod.

She boarded the ship, her men behind her, and stalked up to the heir who finally made her way onto the deck. "Princess." The girl, still weeping, glanced up at her. "You're not safe. I offer my protection and the hospitality of the Order of the Purging Flame, should you accept it."

The girl seemed so timid. She looked to her handmaids. The cat eye gave her a subtle nod. "Very well," she said through her sniffing and sobbing. "I thank you, Lady Knight."

She gave the princess a firm nod, then turned to her men. "Get the rest of those people on this ship. She bellowed to the sailors to make ready for open waters. They looked at her, and she could see the insolence in their gazes. They didn't belong on this ship. Where had they come from? They weren't Mikuman—not dressed like that.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Nara." she said, an eyebrow raised. She gestured with her chin to an older man near the foredeck. "Are you a refugee?" The young woman giggled and Liandra's gaze found her scimitar. "Cause any trouble on this ship, and I _will_ throw you overboard."

Without waiting for a response, she sauntered away from the little fool. Never mind. Perhaps the captain had found them to help with the voyage. Some of them were inspecting the sails and lines as it was, so Liandra ignored them.

Right now, she had more important things to worry about.

## The Failed Mage

Running to catch the others, Lawrence wondered why the White Feather wasn't simply rushing ahead. She was much faster than the failed mage with her strange magic.

_Perhaps she doesn't want to leave me on my own,_ though he doubted the assassins would come back simply to pick him off from the group.

Sakura...

"I have a request."

Haku glanced at him as they ran. "What is it?"

"I need your help to rescue someone."

They were almost to the ship. Together they slowed, both of them understanding that if there was another fight ahead of them, that being winded at the onset would do no one any good.

"I have a duty to protect the heirs—the Princess."

"Once she's on the ship with Arduani, she'll be safe," Lawrence said. "For some reason they want _you._ "

Haku stopped. "What do you mean?"

"Someone took a woman who means a lot to me. Whoever this man is, he told me to meet him—and to bring you."

The White Feather visibly tensed.

"What is it? Do you know who he is?"

She nodded.

"Will you help me?" She said nothing, so Lawrence persisted. "Haku?"

"I do not know if I can beat him." She turned, began to walk in a fast gate in the direction of the ship, which was now visible to Lawrence through the trees as they traversed down the last hill on the dirt path, the trees and the undergrowth swaying in the wind.

She can't beat him?

"I'll be there to help you," he offered. She looked at him and he could tell that she doubted. "They're going to kill her if I don't bring you," he added, feeling a pang of fear in his stomach. His throat felt tight. "Without her, the Princess wouldn't even have a chance at escape. It's her ship, the _Akaima Dancing Fan._ "

The White Feather seemed to mull it over as she stared at the ground. They walked on. She said nothing as they regrouped with the others at the docks.

_I have to convince her,_ he thought. _I have to find a way to make her come with me, or Sakura is dead._

Lawrence found that he was making fists with both hands, fingers digging into his palms. If she wouldn't come, he would have to go without her—simply attack them head on.

Without boarding the ship, he turned to glance up at the hills on the small peninsula jutting out into the sea that created an inlet for the harbor of Yukai City.

"I'll help you."

The voice came from behind. With a start, Lawrence turned. He looked at Haku for a moment, surprised. "Thank you," he said, nodding.

"As you said, the Princess is safe," she said. "We should depart as soon as possible."

"I agree," Lawrence said. "But first, I have to speak with Arduani, "to make sure she doesn't sail without us."

"After I aid you," Haku said, "I will be staying in the city. It is my duty to stay with my _daimyō_."

"I understand."

## The Failed Mage

"We're not departing yet," Lawrence stated.

"What did you say, mage?"

"We're not leaving until I find Sakura."

The knight commander shook her head, frustrated. "Who?"

Has she forgotten already?

"Our friend," Kaiya said as she approached Arduani from behind.

The commander turned. "And who are you?"

"We can't leave without our daughter," Hitomo said. He was as resolved as Lawrence, though he didn't seem it with Yukio weeping into his chest. Beside him was his younger daughter and Tomiichi.

Arduani turned back toward Lawrence. "Do you mean to tell me we're not going to depart because of some dancer woman while the _royal heiress is on this ship?_ "

"The only reason she has a ship is because I told you the _Akaima Dancing Fan_ was here in this cove. It's _their_ ship."

Arduani pursed her lips. "Princess Kurosawa's need is greater than yours. She's the future empress of this nation!"

"That is if Mikuma doesn't become a vassal of Kachiiwara," Tomiichi muttered.

Lawrence could see she was visibly gripping the railing as if she were trying to throttle the wood there, her hair fluttering in the cool breeze.

As if that breeze told her what to say next, the commander pointed toward the darkening clouds and without looking in that direction, she said, "Do you not see that storm, mage? We have hardly a skeleton crew as it is. It will be a miracle of the Flame if we make it through a storm with this crew during a storm."

"Just wait for a time," he asked.

Surely she can be reasonable.

She made a sound of disgust. "We'd be putting Princess Noriko in danger. I cannot allow that."

"Then we can decide here," the failed mage said. He drew his sword. Everyone bristled, including the two armored knights on deck.

Arduani let go of the railing and took a step back as Lawrence stood there for a response. "You've already lost to me once."

"If I recall, that was more of a draw."

She scoffed, glanced about. "You, a guard and an old man against us three?"

"And me," a ponderous voice said from the dock.

Lawrence turned, saw the red-skinned oni there. "Hiun?"

The magicker—mage or otherwise—nodded. "I wish to help the girl."

Lawrence returned the nod. "Are these odds a little more even for you, Knight of the Purging Flame?"

Arduani narrowed her eyes. She still hadn't drawn her sword. "Haku hasn't even said she would go with you yet! It's a trap and you all know it."

"I will go," the White Feather said stoically.

This seemed to shock Arduani. She was clearly on the verge of throwing up her arms and screaming in frustration.

"If it may change your mind..." Hiun said in his characteristically slow speech, "I may... have the strength to bring us back to the ship... Once we have her."

The knight commander was near to snarling. "Magic..."

"Yes... magic..."

Had the situation been different, Lawrence might have laughed. Arduani looked like she was near to gagging. But she resolved herself.

"We know where she is," Lawrence added. "Finding her will be easy."

The commander's knights seemed on edge—ready for a fight. But Arduani was clearly not interested in a confrontation, and despite that, Lawrence felt they had to convince her of the soundness of their reasoning—to give them just a little bit of time to save Sakura.

Arduani stared at Lawrence, glanced at Haku, then to her knights. Finally she looked back toward the failed mage. "Ugh! Fine—damn you! Hurry up. I won't wait long. I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," she said as she crossed her arms.

Lawrence wasted no time. "Hitomo- _san._ Yukio- _san._ I _will_ bring her back." His eyes went to the White Feather. She nodded, and jumped over the railing. She glided to the docks like her famed moniker suggested. The failed mage didn't even hear her sandals make contact on the wood ahead of him. He felt so outclassed around these gifted warriors.

"I'm coming," Tomiichi declared.

"No." Lawrence said.

"She's my sister!"

Lawrence went up to him, took him by the shoulders and whispered into his ear. "You would slow us down."

"She's my sister!"

"I _need_ you to keep an eye on her," he said suggestively. Tomiichi knew who he meant. "She may leave without us. I need someone to keep her from doing that."

This seemed to give the man thought. Finally he nodded his ascent, though Lawrence could see that he wasn't pleased. But it made sense. "All right. Just bring her back."

"I will." He nodded toward Arduani. He didn't think she would leave them. She could be reasoned with. "We won't be long."

But I'm not going to push her generosity either.

"See that you're not."

He turned and—

"Mage..."

"Yes?"

"Draw your sword on me again, and I'm going to kill you."

Unable to contain himself, he smirked. Lawrence didn't know if she had said that to somehow lighten the mood, or if she was completely serious. Either way, he turned his back to her once again and ran across the gangplank, falling into step with Hiun and Haku on the docks. __

I'm coming, Sakura.

Hiun stopped. "Go on ahead. I will catch up."

"Are you certain?" Lawrence asked him.

He nodded. "I do not wish to be seen when you confront them. It is... best that I remain unknown as long as possible. I will not be there to fight."

"All right."

Together, the failed mage and the White Feather set off.

## The Oni

Hiun Yaede, the oni mage and sorcerer, stroked his chin as he stood on the deck of the ship, the other refugees behind him _._ He was looking forward to being gone of this place. But they wouldn't leave yet. The foreigner—the fire mage—had left with the woman in white.

Something told Hiun that he should have gone with them immediately, especially when he saw that boy sneak off after them. _What was his name? Yoshi? Ishi? Yes, that was his name._

He sighed, scratched his brow as he looked off into the forest where he'd seen Ishi disappear after the other two. They were quite unaware he had followed.

Why do I help them? I do not even belong here.

"Very well..." he said ponderously as he made for the gangway.

"What are you doing?"

It was that bossy knight woman—the one who gave him an ill look the first time she had seen him. "I am... leaving the ship," he said, gesturing toward shore.

"I can see that," she said, a note of frustration in her tone. "If you're not here when it's time to depart, I won't be waiting for you, mage."

"That is... fine with me..."

As if casting him from her view, she turned without saying a word and strode to bark orders at some unfortunate soul on the other side of the deck.

# Chapter Thirteen—Of Swords and Magic

## The Failed Mage

The failed mage felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for this diminutive white-haired woman. Together, they had travelled back to the Imperial lines outside of the harbor, and then on across the field directly toward the enemy.

"Thank you for doing this," Lawrence said. "You don't know what this means to me."

"But I do," Haku said quietly. "I too know what it's like to want to protect the ones you love, and being willing to do anything to keep them safe."

He nodded as they were approached by several enemy soldiers from Hukama's army. They seemed to be expecting them. "State your business," a samurai commanded.

"We're here to see The Sword of a Thousand Suns," Haku said quietly. "Tell him The White Feather has come."

He nodded and left, leaving them to look upon the enemy lines, which were prepared for another deadly clash.

## The White Feather

She had never felt this way before. The White Feather swallowed as she walked with Lawrence down the narrow streets— _machiyas_ on both sides, their escort leading the way.

_Can I defeat him?_

The Sword of a Thousand Suns was unquestionably the better fighter. She knew it—had known it the first time their blades had crossed. The force of his attacks, the precision and the sheer speed of his movements.

With this man on the loose, he could easily assassinate Ujio if sent to find him. She would not allow that to happen. Though she sympathized for Lawrence, she had seen this danger all along, had worried over it incessantly and had even considered seeking him out.

But I never did. He will kill me...

They were behind the first row of shops and dwellings behind the waterfront, and the guard tower was now visible from within the street, the tiled roofs still partially obscuring their view, though Haku could see four figures standing at the railing atop the tower.

"We must stay together," she said. "We must fight together—if we wish to defeat them."

The mage looked at her, and she could see the doubt in his eyes. Only now he was clearly beginning to see what they would be up against. The woman—that was the witch she had heard about, and beside her, The Sword of a Thousand Suns.

They looked down upon them from the railing, their powerful presence of strength somehow palpable to Haku down here in this street.

"We can do this," Lawrence said, smiling slightly. "I have faith in you, White Feather—and I'm not a bad fighter myself."

She nodded.

A commotion several streets back made itself known. It was an attack.

Ujio...?

Something inside her—fear or apprehension, or perhaps both, wormed its way around her stomach. Lawrence glanced toward her. "What's happening?"

"I don't know," Haku said, looking up at the tower they were approaching. They had a mission to accomplish, and she would accomplish it. The Emperor's generals would know to attack the enemy lines if they were being flanked from behind right now.

She would trust them.

## The Dancer

The emotions inside of Sakura were confusing her. Hope and fear warred within her. She wanted to be rescued—wanted more than anything to escape these people—this spider who wanted nothing more than to cut her up, and this witch who wanted to feed the dancer to her spiders so she could withdraw her magical essence from their bellies.

She had shaken in fear for hours, and she felt exhausted. But now he was here. _Lawrence—my love. You've come!_

But the fear within her made Sakura want to howl from the tower for him to stay away. She wanted to keep him safe. Sakura did not want to see him killed. Though they didn't actually want him, he was simply a hindrance to this swordsman's aims.

She glanced toward the woman called Markovila, wondering if she might want Lawrence for what he offered as well. She had seemed dismissive of his abilities, but still.

With a hand to her chest, she watched him approach, a woman in white beside him. That was that woman she had seen in camp at the Western Temple. She was a friend.

She smiled, hoping.

When the spider looked at her, his lascivious gaze clinging to her, Sakura forced herself not to recoil. She pretended he wasn't there.

"Well," Ladya said, her voice musical, "he's come for her. It seems your plan has worked." Sakura had discovered the woman's name earlier, when the man they called _spider_ had addressed her that way.

The swordsman in the bloodied mask said nothing, only watched. His gaze turned only slightly when an attack to the west broke out.

"What is happening?" she asked.

"Quiet, little dancer girl," Ladya said. "It doesn't concern you." She turned to the little skulking man. "Wretch."

Snarling, he cringed slightly in irritation at her address.

"Take the dancer to the house."

He smiled then, and Sakura shook a little harder.

"But remember what I told you—touch her, and it's you I'll be feeding to my spiders."

Clearly disappointed, he jerked on her wrist. She didn't want to go. "Come!" he howled, then backhanded her across the face. Sakura didn't cry out, only pressed her palm against the pain. When he revealed his knife, she obeyed, and he pulled her down the stairs.

She stole a glance back, but there was nothing to see.

Be careful, Lawrence!

## The Masked Demon

With forty ninja at his command, Muji lead the attack on Hukama's forces in the harbor. But unlike before, he did not stage quick, sudden ambushes that lead to fierce fighting and quick retreats.

With an outstretched hand, he commanded his stealth warriors—fifty in total—to press ahead and to silently remove enemy sentries.

The lead ninja before him bowed quickly, and ran to carry out his task. The black-clad warriors darted away and were quickly unseen.

The Masked Demon nodded to himself, his small army at his back. While _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi kept Hukama's forces occupied in the west, Muji had lead fifteen hundred men to the harbor.

It would all come down to the abilities of his ninja, now, as Hukama surely had his own stealth warriors to counter theirs—though his forces outnumbered Muji's as a whole, the legendary general Hukama had spread himself out thin, and would now be fighting on multiple fronts, not to mention the number of warriors he needed to occupy the swearers and his patrols within the surrounding countryside and the city gates.

Arrogance will be your downfall. We will prevail.

"Sojiro," Muji called.

His captain stepped up behind him. " _Hai._ "

"Hukama's forces will be arrayed in a line when battling Sakuraichi's army in the harbor.. We will cut through them in a concentrated attack on their right flank, removing them from the water's edge."

"Is that wise?" Sojiro asked. "Our men will have no way of retreat."

"My plan." Muji said. "Once our forces in the north realize Hukama's army is being attack on their flank, they will engage the enemy, and we will destroy them. I leave no way of retreat for our men. We cut through the enemy, or we perish on this day."

"As you command, Muji-sama!"

The Masked Demon was not afraid of death. But something inside him regretted the assurance of victory or death.

Haruna...

Sometime later, a scout from his contingent of ninja returned to relay information. The warrior bowed. "It was as you thought it would be, my lord. Hukama's forces are spread thin, and though they are evenly matched with _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi's forces in the north, they will not hold when flanked. They are currently encamped, as the fighting has ceased."

Muji nodded. "Good work."

He turned to Sojiro. "We move!"

## The Failed Mage

The watchtower doors flew open as if forced from the inside. They made a loud noise and shook as if nearly ripping from their hinges. From the darkness within a woman and the swordsman—the one who had taken Sakura appeared. Behind them was a dirty little hunchbacked man, his hand around Sakura's upper arm, and in his other a knife.

"Lawrence!" she called.

"Sakura!"

"Quiet, my sweetmeat," the man hissed as he brandished the dagger. "Or I'll cut you."

"You'll do nothing of the sort," the woman at the front said, not bothering to turn to the small man. "Take her away."

"Wait," Lawrence called. "We had a deal."

"A deal?" the woman asked. "Do you mean to tell me, mage, that you intend to leave your ally with us?"

He said nothing, because of course that was not his intention. He wouldn't let them do whatever it was they wanted to do to Haku if he could help it, but right now Sakura was the higher priority, and besides, The White Feather could take care of herself.

"I thought not."

Beside the woman was a man in tattered robes. Beneath those was the cuirass of leather armor, vambraces, and shin guards. This swordsman looked like a vagrant _rōnin_ samurai. _Is he really some kind of legendary duelist? Is that what this is all about? He wants to kill Haku, to spread his fame?_

The failed mage grit his teeth. Quietly he worded to Haku, "I'm with you."

"I know."

"Mmm," the woman said, smiling. "Both of you are so yummy. Why not put your weapons down and give up."

The swordsman stepped forward. "Do not get in my way, witch. The White Feather is mine." Haku stepped forward several paces, moving away from Lawrence's side so he wouldn't be involved in their duel.

"Fine," the woman that swordsman had called a witch said. "But this mage is mine. My price for assisting you—otherwise you can deal with them both."

"Do as you wish," the swordsman said from behind his mask, moving to meet Haku.

"What do you want with me and Sakura?" Lawrence asked. "She's useless to you—she's only a dancer. Let her go!"

The woman, tall and imperious, smirked. "Oh, but she's so much more than that, silly mage. And so are you."

What is she talking about?

"Kat," she added. "Can you bring him to me?"

"Of course, mistress," a young woman said, stepping out from behind the shadows where the _machiya_ had kept her hidden.

"But don't kill him, dear."

"Of course not."

This witch was not of the east, but her ally was, though from another region entirely, Lawrence could tell that much. She was probably another witch, just like her mistress.

The failed mage was on his guard and fully prepared for a magical duel. But could he take two of them?

The young woman came forward. Much like her mistress, she too was tall, had a bemused smirk on her face, behind which Lawrence knew was a very dangerous woman.

She let her robes fall to the ground, acting as though she were lowering her shift to reveal her naked body. But she wasn't naked—not quite. She wore a leather raiment with a neckline so low, it reached to her lower stomach.

The failed mage raised an eyebrow.

The woman spread her legs as she reached behind her lower back, revealing a whip. The leather adorning her thighs and hips were slashed, revealing more of her skin, provocative cinches keeping the raiment right and secure to her body.

"More whips?"

"Oh, please," Kat said, an edge of annoyance in her voice. "That courtesan knows nothing about whip craft."

"Whip craft?"

"Yes," she said, smiling as if hiding some lurid secret she wanted to tell him. She tossed her long hair.

The failed mage sighed. He didn't want to kill this woman—had never killed a woman before. "Think carefully about what you're doing," he warned as he revealed his blade.

The girl laughed, then cracked her whip. "Let's have some fun."

"Fine."

## The White Feather

"I knew you would come to help the mage," the man known as The Sword of a Thousand Suns said. He stood there in front of Haku, and at total ease. He must have known she wouldn't move to strike him down if he had his sword still in its scabbard.

"I lament that honor can sometimes be predictable," Haku said in reply as she revealed her naked _katana_ blade. "But so can dishonor."

"Dishonor?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled from the bloody mask he wore. "Am I not here—in this street fighting an honorable duel with another sword master?"

"Your methods call into question any honor you may have, swordsman."

She could tell her refusal to address him by his legendary title rankled at him. Good. _Perhaps I can use this against him—put him off balance so that I may have the upper hand._

"Samurai!" he called to the warrior who had escorted her and Lawrence to the tower as he thrust out his wakizashi. The samurai ran forward and took the smaller blade, separating his daishō combination so that he could fight more freely without hindrance.

" _Tch!_ " Haku nosed in annoyance, knowing that by this action, the legendary swordsman was taking no chance in their duel.

"Now you die, White Feather," he said, pointing a finger at her. "The world will know that I've defeated yet another legendary duelist in single combat."

"Is that all you care about?" Haku snapped, preparing for their fight. "Is such a status really so important to you? What of your master, Hukama? Does he not need you in his endeavors?"

She had asked that last part in frustration, though she didn't want to remind the man that he could potentially be more useful by tracking down her Ujio. Killing the _daimyō_ , which would effectively end most of the resistance at Hukama's rear flanks.

"The _kami_ have set forth each man's destiny..." he said. "This is mine." He glanced about the roofs of the _machiya_ dwellings stacked high upon one another.

She noticed them too. Ninja—watching the street below, dark thunderclouds above them in the sky bringing ominous tidings.

"Yours?" he asked.

So, not Hukama's, then...

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't know." It was the truth.

"It matters not," he said calmly, lowering himself into a fighting position as his hand crossed to take hold of his _katana_ hilt. "Now fight."

The Sword of a Thousand Suns rushed forward to meet The White Feather.

## The Failed Mage

His sword swiped through open air as the witch Kat jumped and did a summersault, landing behind him.

Crack!

Had he not turned and raised his sword in defense, she would not have pulled her whip back. The only reason she did so was to save it from getting severed on his blade—not that his blade would actually cut the thing—but she didn't know that.

The girl giggled. "Nice try, mage."

She reached out a hand, and Lawrence braced himself for whatever would come his way. Her being a witch's pupil or whatever she was, he was on his guard.

Something hit him in the back of the head and he stumbled forward, though he was too sure-footed to fall over.

She laughed again as he rubbed the back of his head, the small broken clay pot lay on in the street beside him.

"You better watch out."

This fight is not going at all the way I imagined it.

Kat tilted her head and made to look pouty with her full lips. "What's wrong?"

Wind blew through the thoroughfare between the _machiyas_ rustling his kimono. It was chilly as the dark clouds rumbled overhead. "Nothing is wrong."

Lawrence wanted to glance in Haku's direction, but did not, instead maintaining complete concentration on the opponent before him as her mistress, still standing in the doorway of the tower, watched.

"Are you entirely certain, mage?"

_Annoying girl..._

He wanted to lob a fireball in her face, but he knew she would either dodge or perform some artful witch's trick.

I need to get to Sakura. This is a waste of my time.

She did something with her hands—made some kind of complex gesture, and suddenly she blinked in a sort of flickering motion.

One moment she was where she was, and then suddenly she had closed the gap between them, reappearing before him.

The failed mage reacted, but he was too slow.

She punched him in the gut, doubling him over, then she flickered again. He was on the paving stones, another dull pain blossoming in the back of his neck.

Rolling over, he defended himself with his blade, but it was too late—she was already standing, not phased in the least, the distance between them there again.

How did she...?

The thought of Sakura with that deranged little man was breaking his composure and concentration. _It was magic. Of course._

He knew what magic looked like.

"All right, mage?"

Lawrence gritted his teeth. If this keeps up, he would never even come close to fighting this girl off.

She giggled, but her mirth was interrupted when heavy raindrops began to fall. " _Tch!_ "

## The Dancer

"Where are you taking me?"

"Silence!" the wretch commanded as he pulled her down a dark set of wooden stairs. They creaked as they went down into a stone cellar.

Sakura's attention was drawn toward a door, behind which she heard a scurry of activity. She sensed life behind that door and a chill ran up her spine.

"What do you want with me?"

"Mmm," he noised, licking his lips as he lead her into another room. There was a table at the center. "Sit," he commanded her.

Sakura obeyed for no other reason than that he had a knife. She hopped up and set on the table.

"So sweet," the man they called spider muttered as he took some leather cords and began to tie her feet.

"Tell me what you want?" Sakurai demanded. She kicked, swatted at him. He grabbed her by the neck and started choking her.

"The witch," he said, his face so close to hers, she could smell his foul stink as her eyes watered. "She wants you. She wants your magical energy."

His grip relaxed and he laughed as the dancer gasped for air, then coughed.

"Yesss," he continued, his voice a thin rasp, like metal on metal when sharpening a knife. "First she intends to feed you to her pets."

Sakura swallowed, glanced at the wall where that other room lay beyond. _Those things behind the door?_

"They will suck the blood from your body, leaving your skin and bones a hallow husk, and then she wants to extract your magical essence from their bodies." His tone went into a lament. "Oh, those poor spiders."

His attention changed as he regarded her. "Now, now—don't shake, love. I will save you."

The thought of being fed to a room full of spiders frightened her so, that even though she knew this vile man would kill her for very little reason, she grasped at those words.

"Save me?"

"Ohhh, yesss! _Quiet!_ "

Sakura squinted at him, confused. "But..."

"Not you! I'm talking to _him!_ " He turned. "Yes, I know," he snapped, seemingly speaking to someone else in the room. "We will feast—but not yet!"

She didn't need to take in his state with her gifts to tell that he was mad, but she did it anyway. Within his head she could see the twisted nature of this man's mind.

_I need to escape,_ she thought, _or they're going to kill me—feed me to those spiders, or be eaten by this spider!_

She jumped off the table, her elbow making contact with the side of his face. Knocked to the stone flooring, she rushed passed him, threw open the door and ran.

She scrabbled up the steps, her blood rushing in her ears. She made for the door at the top. It was slightly ajar and letting in a crack of light.

Something flew past her and thwacked into the door in front of her. Sakura yelped, jumped back and fell into his arms.

"No! Let me go!" She kicked, but it was useless. He had his hand under her jaw, his fingers digging into her cheeks like cold steel while he held her by the neck with his other hand, cold and clammy.

She couldn't breathe.

Squirming, the dancer's world went dark.

## The White Feather

Haku leapt up and back, her feet touching down on the slick tiles atop the _machiya's_ roof. He followed, jumping after her and running across the tiles, closing the distance between them fast.

Too fast.

His footing and balance are perfect, and his speed...

The White Feather jumped back again, landing atop another roof.

"Why do you evade me? Fight!"

"You have your style, and I have mine," she countered. "Why should I duel you on your terms where you have the upper hand. Is that not foolish?"

"I wish to cross blades with you, White Feather, not compete in a contest of maneuvers and strategy, but a pure duel to determine the outcome of the better swordsman."

How distasteful.

"What?"

"I can assure you," she said, "that you are the better sword master." She could tell this declaration upset him.

"Then come here so I can cut you down—or will you glide on the wind in constant retreat?"

"Your arrogance annoys me, swordsman."

"I am no mere swordsman," he spat. "Stop calling me that. You can call me by my legendary title, or you can call me by name."

"What is your name?"

"What?" The surprise in his voice was not feigned. "You mock me, Haku?"

Cocking her head back, she too was surprised now. "So... you know me, but I do not know you. The Sword of a Thousand Suns is hardly a name."

"One you know."

"One I've _heard,_ but not the name behind it."

The Sword of a Thousand Suns kneeled, then lunged up toward her, his body closing the gap between them so quickly Haku couldn't evade this time.

She raised her blade and took the full force of his attack head on.

## Kuji-kun

Surely he was supposed to report to his captain, but Kuji found himself uninterested in going back to the front line to join the new battle. Instead he had lingered in the street amongst these powerful characters who made warriors—mere samurai—look like children playing at war.

Watching as the woman in white fought and evaded the legend known as The Sword of a Thousand Suns, their blades had finally come together.

Kujinaba was dumbstruck. For their speed, he could hardly make out what was happening, as their blades flashed too fast for his mortal eyes to see.

Kami-sama... Is she not also a legendary fighter?

But he had never seen nor heard of her before! How could this be?

## The White Feather

Unable to keep up at his level of ferocity and pure skill with a blade, Haku broke off, turned and jumped for another roof. She glided to the rooftop tiles, her feet touching down softly.

The tiles cracked to her left from the weight of the other swordsman as he pursued her.

"Don't run away, White Feather!"

He's right behind me!

She jumped for safety, away from him.

## The Failed Mage

A sharp pain shot through Lawrence's back as Kat's whip snapped from behind, though he didn't cry out.

Spinning around, he raised his sword in defense, but she was already gone. He jumped, rolled in anticipation for the next crack of her whip, which came.

"Good!" she called, laughing. "But can you keep that up?"

She didn't use that blink magic again, and now he was facing her. At this rate, he would never beat her—and she, the apprentice of the other witch, who hadn't even joined her in the attack.

The failed mage wiped his wet face with the back of his soaked arm. The rain was coming down hard, and the water droplets streaming down his face didn't help with his concentration.

"Look out!" the young witch called as she raised her arm, her whip cracking as it coiled behind her for the inevitable strike.

He braced, ready to evade, but then she cried out and jumped to the side. For her, the evasion probably seemed clumsy, but to Lawrence she was graceful, landing on one hand, spinning and then coming back to her feet as _shuriken_ clattered about her.

She cried out in pure frustration looking up at the _machiya_ roofs above Lawrence. "Come out, cowards!"

He didn't turn, but he too looked about. Was he being assisted? Haku hadn't brought any ninja with them, so who could this be?

"Gods," she said to Lawrence. "I hate ninja. Annoying little pests."

"I might agree with you," he said, "but not on this occasion."

"We told you to come alone with the woman." Her glare was accusing.

"And you said you would let Sakura go!"

"I'll just have to kill you quickly, then."

She blinked, her body dematerializing.

Lawrence jumped, glanced about, ready for another crack of her whip, or this time, something worse.

But instead, she cried out. The failed mage turned toward her, watching as she flipped in the air, her feet coming down on the stones in the street.

"I hate surprises!" she snarled, taking a few steps back so she could see who had attacked her atop the roof.

Ignoring one another, the failed mage and the witch's apprentice both craned their necks to see who was there.

Lawrence flinched with surprise at the huge samurai looking down upon them through his snarling oni mask.

"The Masked Demon," he said.

## The White Feather

It was happening all over again—he pursuing her while she runs, her exhaustion building. Haku The White Feather could not defeat her opponent.

I have to find a way. There has to be a way.

She jumped, glided over a roof and landed in an adjacent street. The battle was happening nearby. Two samurai and a group of bowmen passed the cross street. She turned, looked for her pursuer.

There he was, in the air in mid jump, his arms outspread and his _katana_ in hand. He landed in the street a few paces from her. "Stop this and face me. I do not wish to defeat you tired and unable to swing a blade."

She raised her _katana_ defensively, thinking he might lunge in an attempt to kill her before she tired herself out. It would take more time, much more time, since Haku had her arts to draw on for aid.

"Let us end this."

Haku grit her teeth. She wouldn't be another trophy of his ambitious bloodlust—his insatiable need to be a renowned duelist, of which he already was!

"The Sword of a Thousand Bloody Suns," she said.

"What did you say?"

"Your title is well earned."

"That's not my title. How dare you insult me!"

"No," she said calmly. "How dare you? I'm caught up in a conflict for the future of my country and you ambush me with your need for this duel, like a child who can't wait—surely you could have challenged me at any time, but yet you wait, until my composure is off kilter, while my mind is distracted by things far larger than this petty confrontation you seem so eager to finish with me."

She couldn't see his face, though by his change in posture alone, she could tell that he was enraged. He said nothing, adding to her knowledge that he was indeed incensed at what she had said.

"It's easy to call out in anger," she said, "but I can see you can hardly control your own temper."

"I'm well composed."

"Are you?"

"Indeed."

She sensed it—jumped out of the way just in time. He screamed past her, his blade missing her by mere inches as she dove—ungracefully for The White Feather—for the cobbled road.

A crash broke out behind her. Haku glanced at the road where several strands of her hair, perfectly cut, lay. She was on her feet before The Sword of a Thousand Suns could return from his rampage.

There was magic behind that attack!

Where was he? She looked into the _machiya,_ a mess of broken wood and shredded paper sliders. "As I said," she muttered. "You cannot control your temper."

Wood and debris from inside the dwelling exploded out at her, her opponent streaking toward her with blue magic wisping off his back.

With a pirouette, she dodged his attack again, but the force of his presence knocked her off balance and she fell to one knee.

Before she could turn, she jumped for the roof.

Where was he now? He had crashed again through the _machiya_ behind her in the street. _I barely dodged his him,_ she thought. _His speed, and the force of his attack can't be withstood—not by me._

Evasion was her only defense against such an attack. Though it was a magical charge, which ended in destruction of the environment at its path's end, she knew that his agility during that charge, at least with his blade, was not encumbered.

The White Feather would not attempt to cross blades with him during those magical charges. Not if she wanted to win this duel.

Her cheek itched. Brushing it, she discovered that a sliver of wood was sticking out of her face.

" _Ngh!_ " she pulled it free, blood beginning to come forth. The White feather glanced about.

Haku found no sign of her attacker.

Where is he?

An explosion broke forth under her feet and she found herself spinning through the air. If not for her magical arts, she would have been completely disoriented, but for her reflexes, it was as if she could almost see what was happening in a slower state as The Sword of a Thousand Suns broke through the tiled roof in a rage, his magic a fury about his body as the shattered tiles and wood breaking outward followed his trajectory toward her.

Acting simultaneously, The White Feather changed her trajectory of forced flight as she raised her _katana_ in a defensive action.

She flew. Not in the new trajectory she had set, but in the one her opponent, for the second time, had set, when his blade came in for the kill.

Her blade had met his, but the sheer force of his attack sent her flying, her arm and shoulder a screaming voice of pain as she crashed through a slider and landing in a heap inside of one of the _machiyas_ two roads back from where she had been standing.

As she lay there, an unbidden noise came out of her. " _Hngh!_ " It had happened so fast that she hadn't been able to take full stock of her injuries. Her body hadn't reacted to the various injuries she had just sustained, but from the noise, she knew.

The White Feather had been defeated.

## The Failed Mage

"Ha!" Kat scoffed. "A giant samurai and a drenched fire mage? I won't even have to try!"

"No," a voice sounded from all around them. "Go check on our spider. I fear he wishes to drain my prize of her life-force. I should have never trusted that wretch! _I_ will deal with them."

Kat glanced between Muji and Lawrence. The failed mage could see she was disappointed that she would be deprived of the opportunity to kill them.

"Very well, mistress."

The young witch turned and ran off, her speed quicker than that of any normal human—even that of the most skilled ninja.

Lawrence looked about.

That other witch. But where is she?

Suddenly the failed mage was distracted at the sound of something crashing on the rooftop a street behind them to the left—then a small figure in white shot through the air and out of sight, another crash resounding in the upper floors of the _machiya_ to their right.

"Haku!"

Muji jumped into the street. "What did you say, mage?"

The huge samurai's voice was demanding. _Was that concern?_ _No—that couldn't be right._

He raised his blade defensively. This is not what he needed right now, but perhaps The Masked Demon would lend Lawrence a distraction against the witch of whose voice they had both just heard—the voice of Kat's mistress, the witch who said she would deal with them.

He took two steps back. _I have to help Haku._

"I asked you a question, _gaijin!_ "

"You're my enemy," Lawrence replied impatiently. "What makes you think I will tell you anything you ask?"

"Do you not see we fight the same enemy?" He gestured vaguely to the side, indicating the disembodied voice moments ago.

## The White Feather

Wincing, Haku tried to rise, but she felt an overwhelming pain in her chest, like she was being ran through with a sword. She nearly cried out. On top of that, her arm and shoulder were blossoming with sharp pains.

For a moment she lay there, just breathing. _It's over._ Strangely she didn't fear for herself, but regretted how Ujio would feel when he found out.

I'm sorry...

But she couldn't give up! Perhaps she could escape? She moved, wincing and gritting her teeth through the pain as she rolled slowly onto her knees.

Breathing in and out, she rose to her feet.

" _Ngah!_ "

Simply standing had never been so difficult in all her life. She took a tentative step forward, then grasped her shoulder with her good hand.

Where's my sword?

"There's no point."

She glanced up toward the voice. He was there. How did he get in here so quietly? He stood on the landing at the top of the stairs. She hadn't even heard them creak.

"I told you I could not defeat you," she said, resigned to the fate she knew she would endure now. He wasn't here to talk. He was here to finish this. "What are you waiting for?"

"Is that all you want?" In his tone she could hear his annoyance. "Haku, The White Feather—legendary dualist—The Feather on the Wind. Just giving up."

"It's over."

"This should have ended with our swords," he accused her. "Not like this."

"Things rarely go the way we wish."

" _Tch!_ "

"I'm sorry."

"Are you?" He stepped forward, closing the space between them. He grabbed her upper arm—her good one, his grip like steel. She forced herself not to make a face to betray her physical pain.

"Fight!"

"I told you," Haku said amidst the rain and thunder outside. "It's over. You've won."

She flailed through the air when he threw her out the window. When she landed, Haku rolled like a ragdoll.

Her arm and shoulder smarted sharply.

" _Gah!_ "

Unable not to cry out at the pain caused by her rough landing, she held herself against the fire in her shoulder and the knives in her chest, her face pressed into the cobbled stones, the cold rainwater soaking her through.

Water splashed as he landed behind her. She didn't bother to look at him, but then her sword clattered to her side.

"I said fight me!"

The White Feather rolled to her back. "Just end it," she said through gritted teeth, "or is this how you want The Sword of a Thousand Suns to be known—begging for a duel of swords with his defeated opponents?"

She would have cried out, but the force of his kick to her stomach pushed all the air out of her. The sheer strength of his attack sent her into the air. She rolled when she landed.

"I can't believe this!" the Sword of a Thousand Suns spat. "In all my days I've never fought a duel that was so disappointing." His steps neared. He was standing over her now. "Do you want to know what makes this so disappointing? I thought that maybe you had the skill to defeat me. Only by defeating opponents as such can I achieve my aims of being the world's greatest fighter."

She looked up at him. "Is that all you live"—she coughed—"live for?"

"What am I to do with you, White Feather? This is pathetic." He wasn't even looking at her.

_It is pathetic,_ she thought. _I thought I might be able to beat him, but I couldn't._

_"_ You're one of the last known blade masters—the rest are hiding from me," he continued. "This feels... hollow." He made a fist. " _I need more!_ "

She would not beg for her life. She would never beg for such a thing. Her dignity wouldn't allow it, but perhaps she could use his ambitions—not against him, but as a sort of ally for a time, in payment for a future promise.

He doesn't even care about this war.

"Ujiwara..." she croaked. He looked down at her, his gaze, though completely hidden behind his mask, was intent upon her face. She could sense the surprise behind that hideous thing.

"Ah, so you do know my name." He looked at her for a long time. Finally, he said, "What is it, Haku?"

## The Dancer

The dancer awoke to find herself on her back atop a table, her feet and hands bound. Her wrists were raised above her head and tied down to something. She squirmed in frustration, her breathing heavy and fast.

She glanced about, found him there, in the room with her, half way hidden in shadow, a ludicrous grin across his face.

Sakura gasped.

He's going to kill me.

"She told you not to harm me."

Giggling, he came into the light. "I'm the Spider of Yukai City. No one tells me what to do. Besides, after I've devoured you, I will disappear. That witch bitch and her apprentice are transient visitors to be gone soon after this conflict is over, but I... I will remain in the city, as I have always done."

"Why"—she could hardly get the words out for her shaking—"why am I not dead yet, then?"

He laughed. "Curious, aren't you?" He came closer, looked down upon her. "I like that. And so I shall answer you." He put a hand on her thigh.

Sakura tried to jerk away at his touch, not out of anger, but pure repulsion and disgust, but she had nowhere to recoil to.

This little wretch stroked her thigh, Sakura's silken kimono barely covering her upper legs. His eyes were not lascivious in that way, though. No, he wanted something else entirely.

"I like to eat my prey alive, squirming in my web."

Her lower lip trembled as she tried to suck in a breath of air, but her chest felt constricted, as if she had been wrapped in a coil of thick rope keeping her from taking in another breath.

"You're mad," she said, tears streaming down her face. "You're utterly mad!"

He cackled in what she thought pure delight. It was exactly what he wanted—what this killer lived for, and she was giving it to him. She felt angry now. She had to do something. Surely there was something she could do. She squirmed and thrashed, he howled with laughter and delight.

And then an idea came to her.

"I—" she said, but the words didn't come out very well. "I can squirm more if you release my hands."

"What?" he said in surprise? " _What's this?_ "

"What?" she asked him.

He took a step back, his head cocked to the side. "Never before has my prey said such a thing to us. Isn't that right, Nazrednas?"

She said nothing in response to his addressing of some other person. Whoever he spoke to, that... _person..._ wasn't present, which only served to reveal his madness even more. Though Sakura didn't need these indications to know he was utterly insane.

She could see it in his mind with her gifts.

"They always squeal, 'please, please let me go—please don't kill me, I will do anything'" he said mockingly. "Always so predictable," he added, looking past her, then he turned, his eyes locking with hers so sharply Sakura almost recoiled with fright.

"Do you want to play, beautiful kitten?"

What could she say to a question like that? _He might be mad, but he's not an idiot!_

"I just—I just want to have a chance to escape."

" _Gahhhahahaha!!!_ " he laughed so hard and with such exuberance the dancer jerked in surprise. "Perhaps I shouldn't eat you yet. We can have so much fun."

He moved to the side of the table where her hands were bound. She felt him cutting at her bindings. Her hands, they were loose, but still tied together.

She looked at her wrists, a breath of fresh air coming into her. She had some time. Maybe not much, but he wanted to "play" so she would play!

"My feet," she suggest. "I can barely move."

He looked toward her feet, bound together, but also to the table. "Oh yes," he said, seeming to remember he had her securely fastened to the table on both sides. He released her, unbinding her feet completely.

Sakura sat up. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes going to the stairs leading up toward the light, the soft sound of thunder rumbling over the city. "I can try to run?"

Grin widening to reveal his sharp, cracked teeth, his eyes also brightening as he nodded. "Yes!" He turned slightly, his countenance changing somewhat. "I know—I know. She'll be coming soon, to take her away. We can't let that happen, now can we?"

Hurriedly, Sakura hopped off the table, looked at him one last time. He fingered the edge of his blade. He wanted to stick that knife in her belly and kill her, watch her, talk to her as she bled out in his arms.

The dancer shivered. She wanted to wretch in front of him, but she wouldn't. This was her chance at escape. He nodded. "Go, little kitten. Run!"

Needing no farther encouragement, she did as he bid, hardly believing that he would allow her to try to escape.

He wants something new, but I can use this opportunity to get away from him—and if I can't, I'll give him something new!

No longer hesitating, Sakura scrabbled up the stairs. She was unimpeded by her _hiyori geta_ , wearing only her _tabi_ socks now.

## The Sword of a Thousand Suns

She would follow through on her word. This Ujiwara knew—because The White Feather was an honorable warrior.

Unlike me.

The Sword of a Thousand Suns had left The White Feather to lick her wounds, and now he was making his way across the battle lines, stealthily evading detection from enemy forces flanking Hukama's army in the harbor, which was now fighting on two fronts.

It mattered not. He jumped across a roof, landing and rolling to break his fall. It was a smooth movement, but nowhere near as light and stealthy as her. Had she wanted, The White Feather could probably be the greatest assassin who ever lived—her magical arts were so rare and unique as to be a surprise even to Ujiwara.

_I will face you again, Ujiwara,_ she had said. _A duel of swords—a public challenge that all will know and speak off..._

Looking down at her, broken and laying in an abandoned street, he had realized he wanted more out of their fight, which hadn't really even been a duel of swords—simply a fight between warriors of some legendary renown.

It was too obscure a thing to defeat her where none could see, amidst a war. It was messy—with too much confusion. It had angered him.

He crested the tiled roof he was on and a small street square came into his field of view. There he saw three ninja, Muji, also known as The Masked Demon, and some other man—a foreigner that looked to be a mage, as he was hurling fireballs as he fought against Hukama's hired witch.

He wondered what his _sensei_ would do should he find out Ujiwara would be acting against his interests, which were now in moderate conflict with his own to take the city.

_I should be acting to stop that flanking maneuver,_ he thought, glancing toward the battle behind him.

But no. The White Feather had made him a promise—assist the man she had arrived with, and she would later fight him, on his terms.

And so he was here.

They were not faring well. These pathetic, weak warriors didn't stand a chance against Hukama's witch and her apprentice.

## The Failed Mage

He had to go for Haku. She needed his help! The failed mage wasted no time.

"Watch out!"

That had been The Masked Demon. Lawrence jumped to the side, rolled just in time to dodge whatever attack came his way.

The water. It was cracking.

_An electric shock attack._ She wasn't going to let him go. Soaking with rainwater, Lawrence turned. The Masked Demon was no longer watching him, instead the huge samurai was facing the witch standing in the street.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to get wet," she said, "but we do what we have to. "I'll make your deaths quick. Well, yours anyway," she said, addressing the samurai, who tensed at her words in a defensive posture. "And you, Mage. I'm going to draw your magical energy to me and absorb your powers. I'm going to leave you a broken husk!"

Gritting his teeth, Lawrence stood firm. "We can take her," he told the samurai. "If we work together."

She giggled, much like the younger witch.

Together, the two men neared each other, ready to defend against this woman. Lawrence had no idea on a strategy to defeat her. "Why are you here?" he asked the samurai.

"To kill her. Ninja!" he bellowed. "Attack her!"

She was not pleased. "Tch!"

_Shuriken_ came at her, but she used a similar blinking magic to evade their attacks. As she blinked about, she raised her hands in what looked like a summoning of magical powers.

Something came out of the _machiya_ beside Lawrence and into the street. Instinctually he recoiled somewhat at the sight of the eight legged monstrosity. It was a spider, larger than any he had ever seen, the diameter of its reach at least three paces.

"Look out," he called to the huge samurai and his ninja, should they be able to hear him. "She brings her minions."

She spider lunged at him, its legs outspread. He slashed it along its underside and it curled up into a ball, landing in the wet street. His sword was oozing with a viscous fluid.

Two more spiders scurried forward into the street.

"There are many," The Masked Demon said. "Be on your guard."

They came scurrying forward. Lawrence swiped at one, taking its leg off. It recoiled, but was far from dead. Normally spiders did not fight so much as simply ambush their prey, but these were unnaturally aggressive.

Stumbling forward from an impact in his lower back, Lawrence raised his sword in defense as the spider jumped at him. His blade didn't damage it, so he pushed on its underside as it wrapped its legs about his body. " _Gahh!!_ " he cried, using his magic to burn a hole in the spider. Its legs released and it fell, a husk at his feet.

"I said watch out, mage. She just kicked you."

"It's a little difficult," Lawrence said, "when you're fighting foes all around you."

" _Hai!_ "

Instinctually both men moved back to back as his ninja revealed themselves. It seemed he had half a dozen of them here, but that wouldn't be enough.

They came in with their _katana_ s, attacking the spiders or hitting them with ranged _shuriken_.

"Why didn't you bring more men?"

The huge samurai threw a spider to the ground and punched it dead right there on the spot. Lawrence was impressed. "Battles don't fight themselves," he said.

"I don't appreciate you killing my spiders," the witch said, making herself known in front of them.

Two _shuriken_ came at her, but they clattered to the street as ripples of magical energy revealed her defensive barrier.

"We're outmatched," Lawrence said.

"I see that, mage."

"My name is Lawrence."

There was a pause. "I knew you were lying before...."

Lawrence almost laughed. "And you? Mujo? Maji?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Muji!"

"All right, Muji," he said enthusiastically, "we can still take this hag."

"Hag?" the witch asked. "That's rude. I'll have you know I'm not much older than yourselves."

Two ninja dropped down behind her, their blades at the ready as they inches toward her.

Lawrence lit a fireball in his hand. Despite the rain, his magic energy was far too concentrated for it to affect his ability to cast fire magic.

But in her own hands appeared magic energies as well. She sent a yellow pulsating orb into the street that resounded in a thundering blast, spreading the pooling water in all directions.

Lawrence grunted as the water attacked them. On his back with his face covered, he realized the pain of that water was far too intense and long-lasting to have simply stung due to the sheer ferocity at which it hit him.

It had been electrified.

Somebody cried out, but Lawrence was too busy getting back to his feet as the spiders approached to worry about who was getting killed.

He sent a fireball into one spider, its companions to both sides recoiling in fear as the spider in the middle roasted in an instant.

One of the ninja was down, though his comrade aided him in killing the spider that had attacked him.

"Oh," the witch said with a smirk. "He'll be dead in no time. The poison, you see, is quite deadly."

The ninja began to convulse there on the ground, the other stealth fighter didn't let him suffer and swiped the blade of his _katana_ across the other warrior's neck.

Muji growled, raising his _katana_ , which was nearly twice as long as the _katana_ s of the other fighters. From a dueling standpoint, he was a force to taken seriously, but against this witch, he was probably more ineffectual than Lawrence.

"You sick bitch." The failed mage called as he hurled a fireball directly at her.

The way she moved, he thought she would somehow bat the magical energy aside, but instead, she hurled it back at him.

He jumped, barely dodging the fireball. It exploded into the _machiya_ behind him, the flames and fire licking about immediately affording them all a yellow-orange light to see better by—not that the ninja needed it.

"This isn't going well," Muji said.

"It's time to die!" the woman screeched!

She raised her hands, summoning enough magic energy to make Lawrence gasp in surprise. This woman—she was powerful.

We don't stand a chance.

She twirled about on her heel, her arms making complex movements as she summoned the energies.

The ninja flicked their _shuriken_ at her from the rooftops, but she blinked out of their paths. Lawrence bounced a fireball toward her feet, but she kicked it aside and it dissipated into a flare of bright light, blinding them, all.

The spiders scurried away just before she slammed her fist into the street, shocking them all again.

They all went to their knees. Muji held out for several seconds longer, but he too dropped to one knee, growling with the pain.

But it wasn't over.

_Great,_ the failed mage thought. _What's next?_

"You..." the witch said, manipulating her magic with her swaying body, her complex hand signs almost a dance, "have no idea what you're dealing with."

She dropped to her knee and her body spun about, a shockwave of air and water blasting them all into the air.

Lawrence crashed into some planters.

The force of the shock had nearly knocked him unconscious. Straining to rise, his immediate worry was the spiders. Now was the perfect time for them to come forward again and attack their prey.

I fought in dozens of conflicts and wars, only to die from a spider bite?

There was no way he would let that happen. He rolled to the side, realizing he came directly into the path of one of the spiders. It attacked him, but he managed to light a fireball in his hand, incinerating the things fangs, which would have pierced him there had he not done so.

The thing recoiled silently, curling into a ball.

He glanced about, getting back to his feet. But there were more spiders on the _machiya_ wall. He hurled fireballs, incinerating them both. Turning, he looked to the others, hurling fireballs behind them, either to light their way to evade the spiders, or to kill those beasts lurking in the darkness just out of their own reach as they made to pounce on their victims.

Muji was already getting up. He dove for his sword as the spiders behind him scurried back or were burned to bits.

The ninja had been quick enough to evade the witch's initial attack, as they were not the sort of warriors who faced their attackers head on.

Stumbling forward, Lawrence watched Muji rise to his feet. He didn't think The Masked Demon could continue this fight. Not in this manner.

We haven't even touched her yet.

How would Lawrence save Sakura if he died here in this street at the hands of this powerful witch sorceress?

He growled, a new determination and resolve to defeat this woman invigorating him. "We have to change our strategy if we're to defeat her."

## The Failed Mage

They had split up to attack her from multiple sides. It was the only way they could fight such an opponent. But she was too powerful. As soon as Lawrence, Muji and his ninja surrounded her, moving in for the kill, she had used wind magic and buffeted the failed mage so hard, his head was spinning.

Grunting, he got up off the soaking wet street stones. Even Muji used his blade to assist his exhaustion as he rose from one knee.

Lawrence blinked when her ally—that ragged samurai—landed in the street behind her. She smiled, not even deigning to turn toward him. His arrival had been nearly silent.

_He beat her,_ Lawrence thought. _He beat Haku. Now there's no way we're going to win this. Sakura, I'm so sorry._

"Are you frustrated?" she asked Lawrence. He had no way to defeat this woman. But she had said something earlier he might be able to use. A last resort.

"If you release Sakura," he said. "I will give myself up to you."

With an eyebrow raised, she said, "Why ever would I want to trade her for you?"

"You want my magical power, don't you?"

"Please," she said, scoffing. "The little dancer girl contains far more magical energy than you. You're but an appetizer, deer boy. She's a banquette of magical energy." She laughed.

I can't say I'm surprised about that. But what am I supposed to do now?

"She will not be going with you," the swordsman said quietly.

"What?" the witch said, turning to address him. "You said I could have her as soon as you had The White Feather woman. Are you turning back on our agreement? I said I would assist you, and so I am."

"You haven't assisted me," he said calmly. "And there was no agreement. She's my prisoner and my mind's been changed regarding the girl."

Lawrence breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn't be murdered and drained of her energies by this spider-loving witch. "What do you want her for?" he demanded.

The tattered warrior regarded the failed mage for a moment through his mask, but instead of answering him, he continued to address the witch.

"Perhaps," Muji said, sounding doubtful, "we should make our withdrawal."

"What?"

"She out classes us," Muji said quietly. "And with The Sword of a Thousand Suns at her back, there's no way we can hope to defeat them."

"Desist?" she croaked, glancing at her ally. She was evidentially outraged. "It doesn't matter, you beggar! She's gone!"

"Wait," Lawrence said. "Something is happening." _What did she mean 'she's gone'?_

Muji regarded the two.

"How dare you! I said she's gone!" the witch shrieked, sending a harpoon of swirling wind at the swordsman.

Sidestepping from the attack, this Sword of a Thousand Suns as Muji had called him, backed away, revealing his blade. "We kill her," he told them.

Muji grunted. "Unexpected."

"The gods look favorably on us," Lawrence said, then he lit a fireball in the palm of his hand. Without wasting time he said, "Let's take her down!"

He hurled a fireball at her, but she deflected it, cried out in frustration. Then her voice changed, it seemed to resonate and come from every direction. "Kat," she called. "Come! _Now!_ "

The failed mage did not let up. He hurled three more fireballs at the witch, one aimed directly at her, the others toward different areas at her feet. If nothing else, they would distract her.

But again, she deflected all of them as she spun in a whirlwind of magical energy, the errant fireballs shooting outward and exploding about them.

Lawrence jumped as one exploded near him, another dissipating in the sky, and the final one landing on one of the wooden dwellings in the square, alighting more of the wooden structures.

"Ninja!" Muji called, his blade raised defensively, but before he could call out an order, a bolt of lightning travelled through the air and connected with the armor on his chest.

The huge samurai shot away, landing in the darkness out of sight.

Just then the swordsman who had been their enemy not long ago rushed in. She turned with excellent speed to address the danger, but The Sword of a Thousand Suns darted back and forth, making himself a difficult target.

The witch pushed a bloom of electrical energies at him, but he jumped, flipping in a summersault and landed behind her.

His sword would have made contact, but Kat was suddenly there, her own short blade, which Lawrence hadn't seen earlier, parrying his slash that would have ended her mistress.

He jumped back as Lawrence attacked from their flank, but he was blasted with wind, sending him toppling onto the roof near the other side of the square. Landing heavily, he grunted, the tiles beneath him breaking from the weight of his fall despite the higher elevation lessening the impact.

He surveyed the street, winding from the pain in his leg as The Sword of a Thousand Suns fought both the witches. Every time one of them attempted to hit him with her magical energies, he dodged their attacks, or simply jumped over them if they tried to him with broader strokes.

As a mage, was he really so far outclassed, or were these figures just that much more powerful than men like he and The Masked Demon?

Remembering Muji, Lawrence glanced in that direction, wondering if the huge samurai was still alive.

I should get to him while that vagrant handles the witches.

## The Failed Mage

His boots touched down on the cobbled street as he climbed down a latticework covered in wet vines.

" _Akh!_ "

The failed mage limped toward Muji, almost heedless of the witches, who were both engaged by their surprise ally—one of Hukama's men no less.

"Muji," he called out, reaching the other man. "Are you all right?"

The large samurai grunted as he leaned over, his ninja there assisting him. He looked like he was through. He had been thrown a long way.

With the help of his ninja, he managed to get to his feet, but he was in worse shape than Lawrence, who only hurt his leg in that fall.

"We must"—he grunted in pain, his fist on his leather cuirass—"we must retreat. We cannot beat them."

"I know," Lawrence said. He glanced back. They were in darkness and the witches were distracted. "Now is our chance."

_After we get away, I have to go find Sakura,_ he thought, worried about the state of his leg. He couldn't stand on it fully without enduring a sharp pain in his lower shin. _I should have learned some healing magic._

Together they limped along to the next street, making for the sounds of battle. Something had changed. The chorus—it was different. There were more cheers, less swords.

"Either we have routed these forces," Muji said, "Or our attack has failed."

"I thought you guys were our enemy?"

"Our enemy? Who do you speak of as 'us,' _gaijin_?"

The failed mage glanced about, wary that they might be attacked by the witches. It wouldn't be hard for them to split up, but it seemed The Sword of a Thousand Suns was keeping them both occupied.

"I've been fighting with your Emperor," he said in answer to the samurai, his previous question having been lost. Lawrence was so confused about this whole situation.

At first he had thought Muji's faction had been fighting against the emperor. _They had attacked the palace, hadn't they?_

But now they were working together to defeat Hukama's army. Whatever was happening here, too many plots were still unsheathed to understand what was really going on within Yukai City.

"Come on," Lawrence said. He wanted to get away quickly—to find Sakura, wherever she was. He prayed to the gods that she hadn't been killed, or taken away out of his reach.

I'm coming.

## The Dancer

Sakura looked up into the sky, the cold rain pattering onto her face. It was pouring. She didn't care about that.

She had to get away from that unnatural creature. Lawrence... are you all right?

She looked about to orient herself. Not far off the dancer could hear the sounds of that battle that had begun before she had been taken away.

Something made a noise behind her. Reflexively, she turned with a gasp, but the _machiya_ there was empty, dark. A shiver ran across her body and she began to run. She needed to keep moving.

Orienting herself, she looked about for the harbor guard tower, but the tile roofs obscured her vision, as the dwellings were two and three stories high here. She grabbed her kimono, pulled it up above her ankles and continued to run in the general direction of the battle.

_I would prefer to be in a battle than to be stuck with that creature._ But she wanted to find Lawrence—to know if he was okay, and to heal him if he needed her. Her urge to go to him was overwhelming.

"I must get myself to safety first," she muttered as she came to a cross street, but she stopped short as she saw a figure ahead.

She squinted, looking at the short man. She couldn't make the person out through the rain, but when she heard the cackling and the arguing he seemed to constantly be doing with himself, she took two steps back, turned and ran.

He would catch her in the street. How had he caught up to her so fast? She wouldn't lose him in these streets. She entered one of the many darkened _machiyas._ She could lose him out the back door, go into another, leave, change her course, and keep doing that.

Surely that would work. _Yes._

The dancer was in the dwelling. It was dark and quiet, save for the thunder and rain, and the distant skirmish. She swallowed, gasping for breath for just one moment before moving again.

No one was occupying the house. They had been smart—got out of the city while they could. Her only other choice now to keep him from cutting her off was to make her way toward the waterfront—where Lawrence was.

She pulled at the backdoor slider, but it didn't budge. She felt at the catch, released it, and pulled the _shōji_ aside.

And then he dropped in front of her.

Sakura screamed, fell back on her behind. She reoriented herself to her knees and scrabbled away amidst his gleeful mutterings and cackling.

"Noo!" she screamed, as he grabbed her shoulders. She turned, tried to fight him, but despite his small size, he was still stronger than her—far stronger.

Taking her by the wrists, he put his face right up to hers, his eyes making direct contact. "I got you, little kitten."

She kicked and squirmed, but it was useless, and she cried out as he squeezed her wrists. She thought he would break them, but when she stopped resisting, he finally loosened his steel grip on her.

"The game is over, little mage girl," he said. "We win! We win!" He snarled. " _That's what I said!_ "

"You're utterly mad," she screeched. "You're ill, or you're damned by the gods!"

"Damned?" he asked, quirking his head to the side. "No. Not right. We're not damned!" He smiled, a huge smile revealing his crooked and cracked teeth, though Sakura could barely see them in the darkness.

"We can still play the game," she offered weakly. She didn't think he would take her up on it again, but he seemed thoughtful.

"We want to! _No! No more games!_ She dies. _Heerrrrree!_ " He removed his wicked-looking knife. "Hold still, little kitten while I disembowel you."

Sakura sucked in a lungful of air, her chin quivering. Her whole body was shaking. Her knees gave out. She tried to speak, tried to tell him they could continue the game, but the words wouldn't come up.

"Hmm?" the freak noised. He looked over his shoulder for whatever that was. "Are we being watched? We hate—yes, I know. _We hate watchersss._ "

Sakura looked up at him. She wouldn't be able to run. This man was wounded in the head. Perhaps his soul was tarnished as well—black and degraded.

"It's nothing. Let us eat. Yes, yes we can eat now."

His muttering made her shutter like a leaf in a storm, but as he turned, she shot to her feet and placed a hand on his head.

He looked at her quizzically.

And then bright light appeared under her palm. He looked up at it, a stupid look in his eyes as his curiosity, almost childish, seemed to overtake him.

Sakura watched the malefaction in his mind stir, and suddenly her would-be murderer cried out, shrieking horribly.

She jumped back as he swiped at her with his knife. She hit the wall, jumped to the side as is blade cut into the wood there.

He cried out, shrieking again, one hand to his head, the other warding with the blade.

What happened? I thought I healed him, but he doesn't seem well. He seems worse.

Dropping the knife, he screamed louder, going to his knees. He rolled about, thrashing this way and that. Instead of running, Sakura took up the murderer's knife to defend herself in case he decided to attack her.

"Where are you? I can't hear you?" he muttered, quieting.

This was her chance to get away. Sakura ran for the back door, her feet sinking in the cold grass in the courtyard. She crossed the green and slipped on the wood as she left the _niwa_. He shin scrapes against the side, but she ignored the pain and hurried to the other door.

She had the _shōji_ halfway open when he screamed. Sakura yelped, her hands close to her chest with the knife in her left. She jerked around and he crashed into her, hard enough to send them both through the _washi_ paper.

Struggling to get the knife in a position to defend herself, she jerked her hand, but it wouldn't budge.

He wasn't moving.

She pushed at him, grunting as she rolled him off her. The knife handle, a smooth, carved bone of some kind, was the only visible part of that knife, as the blade was buried in the errant soul's stomach. The hilt was sticking out at a downward angle, which meant the blade had penetrated his insides behind his ribs.

Sakura shuttered, her hands and midriff covered in blood as the man beside her twitched. She glanced at him again, knowing he was dead, and even if he wasn't, she wouldn't save him.

I... killed him.

She leaned back on the wall, breathing heavily, and began to cry silently with relief that she wouldn't me murdered by this wicked, malcontent. All the fear and anger drained out of her as she sucked in large lungful's of fresh air.

She could smell the rain again, her eyes blurring. " _Kami-sama!_ " She clasped her hands together, pressed them to her lips. " _Arigatou gozaimasu!_ "

From the noise at the door, she tore her gaze from the wooden floor. _What was that?_ Her breathing stopped. The dancer listened for anymore of the sounds.

Someone was at the front _shoji!_

Her eyes darted to the knife, still in the body. Moving to take hold of the blade, the front door slid open. Sakura gasped when she recognized the faces of the young boy, Ishi, and the oni mage Hiun.

With relief, she cried out, slunk down on all fours. She met their eyes and smiled. "It's you."

## The Sword of a Thousand Suns

The witch Markovila howled with fury. "Stop this at once! We're allies!"

"No," Ujiwara said, rushing in with a streak of magical speed that outrivaled The White Feather.

The witch blinked from his path. He streaked. She blinked. The other witched blinked in and he parried with her short swords. He streaked, they blinked together.

This dual was a stalemate and Ujiwara, The Sword of a Thousand Suns was tiring of this. Had Markovila been alone, or had her apprentice not had the aid of her mistress, he'd have cut them down by now.

They were soaking wet—all three of them, their hair sticking to the sides of their faces as the cold downpour continued to drench them amidst the thunder and wind.

"Enough!" Markovila snapped. "Kat. We go. Leave this vagrant to the smoking ruins of his city."

"As you wish, mistress," the other woman said, flitting across the rooftops to catch up with the other woman.

Ujiwara did not pursue them.

He watched as they jumped across the rooftops in retreat. He glanced about Yukai City. It was indeed a smoking ruin in parts, but it mattered not. He knew, just by the feel of things, that Hukama had lost this fight.

The skirmish in the northern harbor had resulted in a victory for the Mikuma forces and Hukama's warriors were in retreat through the streets. They would link up with his larger force at the base of the Western Temple, but they too were under siege it seemed from the front and the rear.

They will retreat through the Western Gate.

The Sword of a Thousand Suns was no battle tactician, but he had apprenticed under Hukama-sama long enough to know far more than most about the strategies of war and battle.

Would Hukama know that Ujiwara had aided The White Feather in return for her promise of a later dual?

_The world will talk about our encounter for decades,_ she had said. He knew this to be true. Without any malice, he aided her with the knowledge that their fight would one day resume.

An epic encounter of legendary dualists...

## The Dancer

They ran toward the sounds of the battle. Hundreds of warriors and samurai streaming through the streets. _Those aren't ours, are they?_

"What's happening," Sakurai asked, panting along as the three of them, Hiun, Ishi and herself made their way north of the harbor along the streets of the _machiyas_ just shy of the waterfront. They were too close to whatever fight was taking place.

The dancer could feel the sheer magical energy emerging in fits and starts from several powerful individuals.

Could one of them be Lawrence?

She glanced back, slowed, and was told to hurry. But she wanted to stop, to go find out if he was there, fighting for his life—for her life!

"Please hurry," Ishi said.

"I think Lawrence is that way," she said.

Hiun stopped, turned and surveyed the direction she had been indicating. "I do not... think so."

"Why?"

"Hmm..."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Your friend—this Lawrence fire mage. He is much weaker than what I sense in that direction."

Now that she thought of it, she agreed with the mysterious oni. But something in her wanted to ignore that and go anyway. To be certain.

She looked at him as he put a hand on her shoulder. "He is not there, little mage."

She wasn't a mage. Not even close. But she didn't care that he called her that. Something in her wilted.

"Lawrence-sama can take care of himself," Ishi said.

"This is so," Hiun said.

"But..."

"Come."

Sakura hesitated, but finally gave in to return to the ship. "Very well." But if they left Yukai City, how would he find them?

She was distracted at the sound of someone coughing. Ishi's eyes widened and Hiun turned, his brows knitting. Sakura, soaking, though not cold—she had endured far too much tonight to care in the least—turned to see what they were looking at.

It was that White Feather woman she had heard about. The one she saw in camp at the Western Temple with Lawrence.

They went to her. The woman had been beaten badly. Her shoulder was dislocated, and upon her body were countless wounds. She looked at them, a slight daze in her eyes. "Your friend is nearby," she croaked.

Sakura took hold of her, infused some of her healing magic into the woman, but not much. With her shoulder dislocated, she wanted to wait to heal her. She didn't know how to heal that. Would they need assistance to somehow put it back? Magic wouldn't do that, could it?

She was unsure, so decided not to heal the woman. She had nearly killed someone tonight by healing alone.

In the end, I used a knife, though.

"I"—she coughed, a little stronger on her feet now—"I sent The Sword of a Thousand Suns to assist him."

Sakura gasped. "Isn't he the man who brought me here?"

The white-haired woman nodded. "The same. He is on our side now. For the time being at least."

"Fascinating, Hiun said. "I would ask you to tell us more, but... I think it best we make our way to the ship."

"That commander lady seemed like she was going to leave us behind," Ishi said, echoing the oni's worries.

"Indeed," Hiun said.

"Can you not take us there by magic," Sakura asked. "Like before?"

The oni seemed thoughtful for a moment, shook his head. "I'm far too drained of magical energy for that. I am sorry. I thought that I might be able to, but it seems I was... mistaken?"

"What if I assisted you?" Sakura asked.

"Hmm..." he said, thoughtful. "Perhaps."

Sakurai wasted no time. She took Hiun by the shoulders and infused her healing magic into him to revitalize his own energies. She stumbled, Ishi taking her from the arm.

"I feel...much...wakefulness," the oni said ponderously. "Though I am afraid, I still do not have the energy to take us where we need to go. We must get closer. I am sorry."

Sakura, dizzy, had a hand to her face as she recovered from her unsteady spell. She nodded. "It was worth this try," she said. "Let us go."

The words surprised her. She felt as though she were abandoning Lawrence. He was close, as the woman had stated. Maybe he would find them?

# Chapter Fourteen—New Adventures

## The First Spear

Atop his horse—his pupil nowhere to be found—Hukama began to flee the city with the remainder of his forces. All in all, he didn't lose that many men. He simply had been outmaneuvered and with such short time constrains, he had to order a strategic withdrawal. With the other Mikuman _daimyōs_ certainly on their way to Yukai City, his opportunity to take the capital had been lost.

Commander Momata road up beside him. He looked about. "I think General Koto was killed."

Hukama sighed. "We've fought many battles, have we not, Momata-san?"

"We have, my _daimyō_."

"How have I been defeated? Was I arrogant?"

His general seemed to ponder the question for a time as they filed out of the city. Their rear was still under attack, and though they were losing men, it was no rushed retreat. The advantage lay with the enemy, and Hukama was far from defeated as numbers went, but now that the advantage lay squarely with the defenders, and more of their armies on the way, only a full retreat remained to him.

His campaign to take control of the Mikuma capital lay wasted.

"Perhaps we underestimated our foe," Momata finally said. "It seems _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi was no simple traitor."

Hukama nodded stoically. He was not used to defeat. _But will my failure here lead to other defeats—will my legacy be forever tarnished?_

"There is always next time, my lord."

Hukama chuckled. "Yes, there are many more conquests. I must achieve my aims of becoming a sovereign of this world. I am not content to merely serve an imperial power."

For all his austere behavior and stoicism, Hukama was no man who lacked ambition. Indeed, he had far more ambition than most, and his lifestyle choices reflected his sheer devotion to his goal.

"I feel shame," he said.

"You have no course to feel this way, my _daimyō_ ," Momata said. "We were simply outmatched. It was a daring attempt."

That drove even deeper, though Momata didn't seem to notice. Had he succeeded here, Hukama would have added to his legendary status considerably. _What's more, I would have shed my moniker known as The First Spear—a tool of Daixen. I wish to be no one's tool. I will be known to be my own man, servant of none. A ruler of nations and a legendary general._

He looked about through the rain at what he had wrought. Yukai City still smoldered, most of all near the palace district, which was now being held by Sakuraichi's forces.

Hukama could probably take that stronghold, but the chances of resurgence in the current military atmosphere was so staggeringly low, that he hadn't bothered entertaining the idea.

Breathing in deeply, he looked ahead, feeling a sense of annoyance with Ujiwara, his disciple. He would be punished after returning. Hukama saw to that.

Now, he looked forward, to whatever new horizons and opportunities lay ahead of him.

## The Failed Mage

Hukama's fleeing forces covered the streets. Because the stragglers were in such haste, they didn't notice Lawrence or Muji and his ninja. The unlikely group kept out of their way to keep from making themselves an easy target.

The enemy's detachment would pose further problems for them soon enough. Muji's captains must have known this, because their forces were pursuing the retreating army through the streets.

They walked silently. The huge samurai nodded in satisfaction. "Good," he said. "We will have to defend this new position."

"That shouldn't be difficult," Lawrence said, "now that your forces and the rest of Sakuraichi's can link together."

The streets in this area were now filling with Mikuma warriors. The failed mage just remembered something. He was still surprised by his sudden and unexpected allies he had gained. Muji had asked him about The White Feather—Haku.

"You asked me about The White Feather before."

The Masked Demon perked up at these words. Evidentially he had also forgotten about the woman. Lawrence's thoughts were a jumble. The samurai's emphatic response surprised him.

"She's not far from here," he said, feeling a pang of regret, wishing he could say the same for Sakura. He had no idea where she was or if she were even alive still.

But he also felt regret for Haku. _I asked her to accompany me, and now she's probably dead._ "I don't know if she's still alive."

__ "Where is she?"

Lawrence told him her approximate location, as he was uncertain. The last time he had seen the warrior woman, she had been flying through the air—and not in a way that boded well.

"We must send out warriors to find her at once!"

_Does he know her personally? Does he care for her?_ Lawrence swallowed, feeling a pit in his stomach.

"I'm also looking for someone," he said. "Can you help me?"

Muji glanced at him as they came upon sentries guarding the streets they had taken. "Perhaps," he said, "though I don't know why I help you at all, _gaijin._ "

"Come now, big man," Lawrence said in reply. "I thought we were friends. _Tomodachi da._ "

How he managed the tone of levity even though Sakura was missing, he didn't know. Perhaps he had been a mercenary for too long.

Muji breathed out heavily as he and Lawrence were assisted by samurai warriors and brought into a surgery tent that had just been set up.. "Very well, mage," Muji said. "I will help you, but only because I know you will not be a hindrance to us. Besides, I like you."

Lawrence couldn't help but smile, both in relief and because of this unlikely camaraderie he had found. The Masked Demon was intimidating at the least, and ferocious to behold.

Some time passed as the two warriors received attentions for their wounds. Muji ordered a party out to go search for Haku. To Lawrence's relief, he also ordered several parties to search the surrounding _machiyas_ for Sakura. But the samurai he had sent out, returned far too soon.

Something is wrong...

"I told you to head out!" Muji growled.

"We did, General Muji-sama, but..."

"What?"

The warrior pushed open the tent flap and Haku limped in. Lawrence nearly gasped as Sakura, Ishi, and Hiun came in behind her.

## The Hurg Assassin

Walking with the baggage train while Hukama retreated, Urhaggha stayed close beside the carriage where Yuko was. The _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi had thought Urhaggha was his paid assassin, but in truth, he belonged to Hukama—for the time being.

The Hurg assassin glanced about, the dark rain clouds sweeping in, bringing a massive storm with them. The wind was picking up and becoming heavy.

There was a flash overhead and a crack ripped across the sky.

He had doubled as Sakuraichi's assassin. Normally the Hurg would never conduct himself so, but he had been paid by Hukama for just such a task, and though they only partially succeeded at their goal, Urhaggha would be paid, as the legendary general had kept him on retainer. Regardless of Hukama's own successes or failures, Urhaggha had carried out the majority of his task, leaving only the princess alive.

Despite all this, something rankled. Had his pride been damaged at his defeat in also removing the princess from the board?

I must reflect on what has happened.

As a civilized individual, Urhaggha would understand himself—these feelings he was having. He would not be a slave to his passions, like so many around him were.

Even emperors fell in the midst of their dreams that went against reason and logic, and rational thought. Emperor Kurosawa's own _daimyō_ had betrayed him. He had no doubt that the Mikuma people would be better off for it. The common people were probably in high support of his actions—had they even known what he was doing.

Urhaggha nodded to himself.

## The Princess Heir

Princess Noriko stood on the prow of the ship. The _Akaima Dancing Fan_ was underway and they had just left the harbor and were out in the open sea.

The clouds roiled above, and Noriko thought it might start to rain when a cold splash of spray sprinkled her as the ship cut against the choppy waves. She turned back to watch the crew at work. There were hardly any of them, and most of the deck was covered in refugees who milled about, glancing this way and that with uncertainty and fear in their eyes.

The princess would have felt relieved of their escape from Mikuma, had it not been for the deaths of her father and brother.

She wiped her cheek with the palm of her hand as she held herself with her other arm.

"Princess?"

She didn't turn to look at Mika. "What is it?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to suggest that maybe we go inside. It's cold out."

"Not yet."

Her eyes were welling, partially from the cold air, but mostly because of her loss. _Why did this happen? Why was this_ allowed _to happen?_

Noriko found herself biting her lip. It hurt, but she didn't care. Was it because her father was weak? He and grandfather had been so idealistic. But was that idealism misplaced?

"Princess..." It was Dija now.

She felt the loyal cat eye place her large hand atop her shoulder. It was warm and comforting, but Noriko didn't want to go inside right now. "Not yet, Dija." The princess stared off across the dark water. The ship was practically limping along. "I will return," she said.

"Of course," Mika said.

"Perhaps one day," Dija added.

Noriko could sense the doubt in Dija. She was always logical and pragmatic. "I will."

They had been wrong. Believing that Mikuma had moved beyond the need for armies and strong _daimyō_ s with military authority.

Our enemies were unopposed and the loyalties of our people divided.

"When I return," she added, "I won't be a weak ruler as my father and grandfather were."

Neither Mika nor Dija said anything in response. Noriko squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She resolved to take on the challenge that the world had laid before her—that the weakness of her empire could not overcome.

"I never was an idealistic fool."

## The Dancer

"We are unlikely allies," Muji said, their new camp flanking him. The frightening samurai was addressing Lawrence. "I believe it best that you leave Yukai City immediately."

There was something unsaid between them. Something Lawrence hadn't understood. He had told Sakura as much, and she too knew this, having seen them dual in the palace grounds.

They had stormed the palace after Hukama's warriors and seemed to be allied with the invaders, but then attacked them. It was confusing, but Sakura, not being naive, knew something had been at play.

But now there are too many pedals on the stage to make sense of these steps without very careful investigation.

All they knew, was that some kind of coup had happened, because the princess was still on the _Akaima Dancing Fan_ about to set sail across the sea—as Lawrence informed her.

He nodded to the large samurai and they rejoined Hiun in his magic circle he had drawn. Bright light enveloped them as he magicked them away.

Reappearing in the forest just off the shore, they could see the ship, still waiting for them. "I can't wait to see my parents," Sakurai said as she pulled at Lawrence toward the docks.

Their hands had been entangled together ever since being reunited. The warmth of their skin was clammy and in a way, uncomfortable, and Sakura loved it—wouldn't detach her hand from his for anything.

They made for the docks when Lawrence glanced toward Ishi and put a hand around his shoulders. "I can't believe you came looking for me, you little fool."

"I brought Hiun for help," the boy said. The oni raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Sure you did," Lawrence said, dismissing the boy's nonsense. Ishi smiled as Lawrence ruffled his hair.

Sakura looked forward. The rain had stopped, and the sun was peeking out of the dark clouds overhead. The weather was not clear, but the sun rays boded well for their journey across the sea, if even only as a quick sign that they would be safe during the storm upon them.

A sheet of rain hit them. Sakura cried out playfully. She couldn't help herself.

## The Witch

She had ranted for at least a quarter of an hour after they had stopped fleeing from Ujiwara. Ladya had no idea he was that powerful, that adept with magic, and that skillful at evading magical attacks.

_But how did he keep his magic aura from me? How did he disguise himself?_ It infuriated her. What's more, she had been cheated!

"We have reaped nothing from this... this expedition!"

Kat said nothing. Even that irked the older witch right now, though she was no longer ranting as she paced back and forth inside this hovel they had entered. They needed shelter for the night.

Ladya wanted nothing more than to leave this accursed city and go somewhere else. Not only had they not been paid by Hukama, but she let two mages slip from her grasp.

No! They were pulled from it! Bayule damn that swordsman. Let him see his own entrails torn out of his body while he chokes on his blood.

The storm was in full force, the dark mist and the rain covering Yukai City from the west. In the harbor, she could see a single ship—just barely—setting out across the sea. It was probably Emperor Kurosawa. She hoped he survived, if only to make Hukama's failure complete.

She wanted revenge, but she wouldn't get it here.

"What should we do, mistress?" Kat asked from behind her.

"Wretches," she snarled. "The lot of them." She glanced about the hovel. She was disgusted. "What an utter failure!"

## The Failed Mage

Sakura's mother wept into her arms. "I thought I would never see you again," Yukio sobbed. "Thank the gods you're here—safe with the rest of us."

Lawrence watched, smiling from a short distance away as she was reunited with her family. They all exchanged words and embraced one another. They were all there. Hitomo, Tomiichi and Yoko. Her friends were also there on the deck. There was Kaiya, loud and mouthy, but laughing as if she had something to drink. Beside her was Yumiko, quiet and unassuming, though also smiling happily.

"Thank Lawrence," Sakura said, glancing toward him.

Hitomo came up to him, gave the failed mage a respectful nod and took him by the shoulders. "I would not want another man to be my son-in-law."

"Thank you."

"But you're poor," Tomiichi said, a friendly grin on his face. "And so are we. How can there be a proper wedding celebration?"

Lawrence raised an eyebrow. It wouldn't be hard. A few jobs from the right people and he'd have a small fortune amassed in no time.

_Though it seems my efforts to aid the royal family have resulted in a reward of very little,_ he thought. The only royal left was the daughter, exiled and penniless now. Nevertheless, Lawrence wanted to help her for some reason, despite feeling no ill will for those who enacted the coup.

There were so many refugees on board the ship. It was quite crowded, and Lawrence and the others were completely surrounded. Many of them were rich highborn nobles. There were some oni and cat eye as well. Many of them were foreigners, though the majority were local Mikumans.

"Once the dust has settled," Hitomo said, "we can return to the city and take up residence in our manor once again."

They weren't rich, but the Nakamura family certainly was well off. Even Sakura made good coin as a performer in the _Akaima Dancing Fans_ , though most of the troupe was either dead or missing now, so that was probably over.

"What of the gangs?" Lawrence asked.

"The guilds?" Hitomo asked in clarification. "Oh, they will probably be disbanded and forced to leave under the new rulership of _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi."

" _Emperor_ Sakuraichi, you mean," Tomiichi said, his disapproval not hidden in the least.

Hitomo seemed thoughtful. The failed mage was curious about the older man's thoughts. "What is it?"

"Say what you like about the _daimyō_ ," he said, "but perhaps this is what we need. If Emperor Kurosawa was truly so week, then perhaps this is for the best."

"Father, be silent. You speak treason on a ship where the royal heir is present."

The old man nodded. "Let time settle the matter. We will all see soon enough what washes ashore after this storm."

"Do you know where we're headed?" Tomiichi asked.

"To the shores of DarXulia," a voice said. They turned to find the Commander of the Winged Blades standing there. She was out of armor, wearing a red tabard with the bright yellow emblem of her order, which was a blazing sun with fiery rays shining over the crest of a mountain hallowed in a royal crown. "The home of my order. I have no doubt the country will take in Her Royal Majesty and these refugees she brings."

Lawrence nodded. "Thank you for waiting, Lady Arduani."

She smirked. "I almost left you behind, mage."

It was clear she hated the fact that he was a magic-user, but she seemed to have accepted him for whatever that was worth, though her attitude was still that of superiority over Lawrence. He didn't care.

"We failed," she said.

"No."

"What do you mean?"

Lawrence glanced about. He found the princess on the bow of the ship and nodded toward her. "She's safe."

"And the rest of her family is dead."

"We did what we could." Lawrence glanced toward Yukai City in the distance, dark mists beginning to obscure the city proper, though the smoke could still be seen rising above the city. "We did what we could—and besides, we never were the royal protectors."

"Perhaps. I only wish we could have done more."

"We all do," Lawrence said.

Sakura came up beside him, put her arm over his shoulder and took his wrist in her hand. He looked at her. She was beautiful. He wanted to marry her now on the ship. But he was penniless, so they would wait.

Arduani actually smiled at them, then said, "I'll leave. I have many duties to attend to for when we reach port in three days."

Lawrence nodded, and he turned to Sakura. He was surprised when she leaned into him, then stood on her toes to kiss him.

"Sakura!" her mother reproached.

She giggled.

Eventually the couple found themselves looking across the water toward Yukai City. Lawrence had an arm around her, and like before, she rested her head on his chest.

"What now?" she asked. "Mother is worried."

"We start over," Lawrence said. "Begin anew."

"But we have nothing."

"I'll find work," he said. "It's not difficult. Almost any guild will have me."

"I hate guilds. In Yukai City all they did was spread corruption and violence."

"That was your emperor," he said. "He was the one who allowed those conditions to present themselves over time."

She seemed thoughtful. "Perhaps," she said. "Is this going to be our first disagreement?"

"What?" Lawrence laughed. "No."

He looked down at her and their eyes met. That little smirk was enough to make him love her on its own.

"Do you think we will ever return to Yukai City? It's not your home."

The failed mage had never really had a home. Despite his noble birth, he had left his country in search of fortune—and found it—only for it to be taken away.

"I don't care where we end up, so long as it's safe and you're with me."

She held him tighter at those words. He had never felt this way before. What he was feeling was in contradiction to his profession. As a mercenary, Lawrence had sought out places of corruption and conflict.

Now, all he wanted was for Sakura and her family to be safe—for their children to be safe. _Do I even want children?_

Something within him did.

Sakura put out her arm, and with her hand she seemed to caress the horizon where the sun had peaked out of the dark clouds again. Bright rays shone into the choppy water.

"Our new future greets us, Lawrence," she said. "Let us follow our destiny together."

Holding her close, he smiled.

## The Winged Blade

"He was a good soldier—a good man," Liandra said, dictating to Ana as she paced back and forth in the captain's cabin. He had ceded her the space as soon as they came aboard—and rightly so. "Zandersan was a Knight of the highest degree. A man of honor and unflinching loyalty to the Order and to his mission. It pains me to write this letter, as the memory of his death is still fresh in my mind."

"Do you really want to emphasize his death, Commander?"

Hands behind her back, she glanced at Ana behind the desk, quill in hand, ready to scrawl whatever she said on the paper before her.

"Agh!" Liandra threw her arms up. "I hate this."

"It pains me as well."

"It's not that! I feel such a fool writing these blasted things. I don't feel what I say."

Ana, like Liandra, was wearing the red tabard of the Order of the Purging Flame, though the girl was not a warrior as she was, but Liandra's personal scribe.

"What are you laughing at?" she snapped.

"Nothing," Ana said, shaking her head emphatically. But she couldn't keep the smirk off her face.

"See! You don't care a whit for those two fools. Arrogant, pretentious, pandering..."— _Argh!_ —"Ambitious bastards! And look where it got them."

"They may have been all those things, Commander, but they deserve your respect."

"Yes, yes," Liandra said, waving a hand. "And they have it. But I don't have to like it."

"You never did show that sort of thing very well."

She sighed. _I'm no good at this. I hate it._ "You write the letters."

Ana raised an eyebrow. "Would you like me to give their last rites in the Evermore ceremony as well?"

"Shut up, Ana! Or I'll have you out on deck scrubbing boards. I saw that!"

"No you didn't."

"You rolled your canted eyes at me, young lady!"

"What does the cant of my eyes have to do with it?"

"I don't know!" "

"You're right, Commander," she added. "You're much better fighting the agents of darkness than performing these kinds of tasks, Eternal Flame preserve you."

"Gods, woman. I don't feel like taking any lip from you right now."

"I'm not giving you any lip."

Liandra looked at the scribe sharply. The girl almost flinched.

Finally, she sighed, feeling she was probably being a little harsh, though she didn't think so. "All right, all right—write this... Are you writing it?"

" _I'm writing!_ "

Liandra cleared her throat and started to pace again.

## The New Shōgun

Walking across the silken runner, _Daimyō_ Sakuraichi Ujio approached the imperial throne of Mikuma. The palace was still in shambles, but the day had been won and Hukama was on the run.

He turned and sat the throne.

_If feels... wrong,_ he thought. _But... I have done what was necessary._

"I have achieved my aims," he said aloud to his generals. Haku was here, standing loyally to his side. Muji was also present, his mask removed.

They all bowed.

"What of the other _daimyōs surely_ on their way here?" Haku asked.

"They will submit to me—the _shōgun_ of Mikuma." He said the words regretfully. "Feckless cowards."

"My lord," Muji said. "Not 'emperor'?"

Not offering any explanation, he said, "Not emperor."

In the pause that followed, Haku asked, "Can you be certain the _daimyōs_ will not oppose you?"

"This empire is weak. Has been week for decades. The _daimyō_ s are witless, greedy fools. They will not oppose me. Those who do—we will destroy them."

" _Hai!_ " Muji said, clasping his fist to his palm as he bent to one knee. The other generals followed his lead. "For our new _shōgun_ —for Mikuma and our future!"

Ujio stood from the throne. "We're not finished. We still have fighting to do—restructuring of the government, and the dissolution of the guilds who have sought to take advantage of our people. The _gaijin_ must be expelled from Mikuma. Their influences have run deep. But no more! Prepare for the arrival of the _daimyōs_. We meet them at the gates of Yukai City!"

Standing firm, his generals cried, " _Hai!_ " Muji and the other generals turned and strode down the imperial throne chamber making for the exits.

Ujio never heard Haku approach his side. "My love—what of the heiress?"

He sighed. He wanted this to be over with. "She's of no consequence."

"Should I not take the ninja and deal with her? We had a chance to let the hurg and his accomplice remove her for us, and yet you told me to delay such action. Why?"

He said nothing for a time, though finally he spoke. "No. Leave her be." Something inside of Ujio wanted the girl to return to Yukai City—to take her rightful place as the ruler they needed—to rule in the manner that was required of a sovereign. He had seen it in her. She had the spirit required of a ruler.

It is not my place to be Emperor of Mikuma...

## The Artisan

The trees and the grass danced about in the wind as sheets of rain covered the hills. The Yukai City coast was a roil of black clouds and thunderous rumbles. The water was dark and choppy.

Had there been someone there on the beach, had that person looked up at the dunes, he would have seen a figure in a soiled kimono crest the hill in a slow, limping gait. The man nursed his side with one hand, a dark stain in his blue kimono where there was a large gash in the fabric, his other hand held forward for balance. He wore nothing on his bare, scuffed feet as he moved with what would be evident purpose.

The man peered across the waters, anger and disappointment clear upon his face. His lips moved, curses obviously on his breath. But after a time, for some inexplicable reason, the man's features softened and slowly turned to a smile. And then he laughed. Not a laugh out of irony or scorn, but of happiness unbeknownst to anyone who might have been watching from a distance.

# Afterward—A Final Note to the Readers of Wakiagaru

Thank you for reading Wakiagaru! It originally began as a NaNoWriMo draft in 2018. I completed 55,000 words of the story during that November. But I got busy afterward. I moved, spent two months in Panama on a "sort of vacation" and wrote another 30,000 or so words while there. I then left Panama after two months and moved to Italy. I got lazy and let the story sit for several months before finally picking it up again due to the encouragement of a friend. Thank you, Dina.

So I got writing the last thirty percent or so and got it all finished up. On this last part of Wakiagaru, I decided to experiment. I wrote in a non-chronological fashion, and with there being so many scenes, it was really hard to get everything in the proper order. It really scrambled my brain. The edit took a while, too. But I finally got Wakiagaru finished.

A part of me almost feels sad. I feel like we've come to an end of a journey. But, it's not over! Not really. I have so many ideas that could easily fit into the world of Wakiagaru. I could even write many more stories from the same characters in this book. Now, my followers (my acolytes!)—no, I'm just kidding—but, if you've enjoyed Wakiagaru, tell your friends.

See you with the next one!

\- Waraji-Sama
