The Battle for Saigo no Teiko

 

            From the crown of a steep hill overlooking Saigo no Teiko Pass, Masuro surveyed the sweep of terrain. Morning dew on the grass had frosted by the autumn cold gathering in the Ko-joryoku Mountains. The narrow valley stretched many ri, a corridor of titans. To either side, forested hills and ridges ascended, dwindling around the shattered foundations of monolithic rock escarpments. Above the broken chain of peaks, a vault of grey had settled.

            Masuro looked to the sky. The clouds boded rain. Will the sun not bear witness to this day? Nearby, his warhorse snorted as a gust of wind rippled the grass. Behind rose loftier hills, treeless, green, and windswept. The army was positioned back there; but Masuro could not see them from here, thus for the time being he felt alone, as if there were no one else but him and his steed in the entire pass, perhaps in the world. He savored these moments of early calm in the first hours after dawn. Save for the intermittent wind sighing mournfully through Saigo no Teiko, silence held. In the hollow emptiness of the region, if Masuro were to shout with full strength, the echoes would carry far.

            Although he hadn't slept well the last nights, he was keenly awake now. He had come here to be alone, clear his thoughts, to think sharp and true. However, he knew he was not alone; nor was the army he commanded.

            Where are they?

            Masuro could not descry the enemy host, yet knew their numbers were concealed within the extensive forests covering the opposing limits of the pass. Separating the allied forces and those forbidding woods where the Shogun's warriors lurked was only the grassy dell below, some few ri across, sluiced by almost a dozen streams. Masuro's eyes narrowed. Mists crept over the evergreen canopies east, wraithlike fingers palpating, shifting, dissipating, yet persisting in one amorphous form or another.

            A rider descended the moraine towards him.

            "General Masuro." The courier guard dismounted and knelt by him in the grass. "What word should I deliver the Southern lords?"

            "To keep the troops ready," Masuro answered, not turning from his view of Saigo no Teiko. "And to wait until I say."

            The servant bowed, and rode back up the grassy slope.

            Masuro was loathe to return to the army. In solitude, he could almost fool himself into imagining the war did not exist, and be free of the weight of his duties. I can never let the others know how I feel. With Daisuken gone, more than ever he needed to be the anchor around which the troops steadied themselves.

            For a spell longer he appraised the pass, rubbing his short coal-black goatee. All the pieces are set. What now? Confined to such terrain a battle would have to be fought head on. But we must make them fight us here. Masuro did not like the look of the fog east. Like an open wound, the memory of what happened at the Silver River and other sites of conflict haunted him. What deceptions are at work? Masuro glared at the forests afar, as if by sheer will his vision might penetrate their gloom. General Ishigoda led the enemy, but was the Shogun himself not down there, hidden in the woods, sitting upon his conveyable throne? Masuro sensed he was, and pondered what else was lurking.

            After roughly half an hour the winds picked up, separating the clouds into islands and allowing sunlight to pour over the region. Time to go back. With his spirit lifted by the sun, Masuro took to his saddle and wheeled his charger west, cantering up the undulating slopes. Upon cresting the rim of the next hills, the view of the western pass opened. Before him was a wide swathe of grass where a three-walled, roofless tent had been erected as a temporary base. It's cloth was white and sewn with the symbols of the Southern Kingdoms. The side facing east was open. Sitting in the middle of the tent were the allied lords and their most trusted retainers.

            Beyond, the land swelled to a ridge and the last grasses, before yielding to the forests  dominating the west. At the meridian bordering the evergreen groves, hundreds of banners, large, small, and of various colors, billowed. The standards were attended by thousands of men at arms. Hailing from various houses, the units and divisions of samurai and ashigaru formed impressive echelons of colors, vivid in the sunlight.

            Making the center were over two hundred Hiryu riders, flanked by three-thousand Shenobi samurai, all in a blaze of red and bearing Phoenix standards. To the north flank stood Mistubayashi's elite guard, in dark green lacquered armor and holding emerald banners; beside them were the samurai of the Kamu Clan; both contingents armed to the teeth. The southern flank was defended by two embattled divisions from Shinrin and Eruku; the only remaining after the ruin of their countries. Shinrin, in pale blue and white; and Eruku in viridian and blue. They wielded banners of their colors, and rows of long-bladed yari spears that glinted in the morning. It did not seem possible, but Masuro knew that the men of Shinrin and Eruku, more than the rest of the allies, were inexorably set and eager to exact revenge on the Shogun.

            Several smaller houses had also positioned their units on the meadow-covered bluffs overlooking Saigo no Teiko. All in all, the army guarding western Saigo no Teiko numbered some ten thousands. However, they were little more than the lords' personal guards - a miniscule number compared to the totality of the allied host. Masuro had ordered these units stationed here so Kage-waru could see they did not intend to yield the pass. The rest of divisions were being held in the forests, to not yet expose the entirety of their might.

            After appraising the ranks, Masuro dismounted and entered the base tent that had served as a makeshift headquarters the past four days. On a large mat, sitting in a crescent facing east, were the remaining allied lords, in full armor, their swords and helms at their sides. Nearby sat two dozen or so retainers, all expressionless. Sunshine filled the clearing, and the lords sipped tea from small dish-cups. Prince Keisuke, at the middle, was the only one sitting on a field chair instead of the ground. Next to him was his father, Hidetsugu; then captains Ryoma and Takaneda. To his other side was Lord Okata, Azai Mobutane, Yojinsu, and Harudo. After all those who'd been killed or had abandoned the war, Masuro was deeply grateful for the presence of these powerful Southern lords.

            "General Masuro," said Keisuke, standing to greet him.

            When the other leaders unfolded to their feet, the layers of their lacquered leather, metal studded, and sewn armor, squeaked and rasped slightly. Masuro nodded to them. Keisuke ordered one of the retainers to bring him a field chair.

            "Thank you, Prince Keisuke," Masuro said. "It will not be necessary however. I think better when I am standing."

            Masuro also deemed it unfitting he sit beside the prince, on equal rank, and above his father to boot. It was true since joining the war the prince had leaned on Masuro's counsel, leaving in his hands the reins for all military decisions. The quiet desperation with which Keisuke sought his help at every turn stirred Masuro's pity. The Prince was not ready. He still isn't. As a commander Masuro far surpassed even Keisuke's father, but it mattered not; he would not sit on a chair. They were of the Kasainotora bloodline, and he never would be.

            For a lapse Masuro stared east. What was he overlooking? What did he yet need to decipher in the enemy's plans?

            "You think overmuch, general Masuro. As long as we hold the western end, Kage-waru cannot take the pass," said Harudo, lord of the Tsuoi Clan. "Come, sit with us. The tea is magnificent. The perfect draught on the cusp of battle, neh."

            The leaders were in a better mood than other days. The clearing skies surely helped morale. Masuro acquiesced, and sat beside Hidetsugu and Takaneda. A retainer served him a vessel of warm green tea. Masuro sipped absentmindedly.

            "The Shogun hasn't the faintest inkling of our combined numbers," captain Ryoma said assuredly.

            "If that brood of snakes try to slither across the valley, we'll cut them to pieces," Azai Mobutane said. The young leader of the Kamu Clan wore dark umber and emerald hued armor, seared with symbols of fiery-gold. He spoke with the same deadpan tone his expression exhibited, as a man made for war. Masuro had been thoroughly impressed by Azai's fearless prowess in battle, yet had to rein him in at times. This was not always possible, as the new scar from Azai's brow to jaw attested. The black eye-patch Azai now wore leant him an even more dangerous look than before.

            "Don't worry," Okata said to Azai. "You'll claim vengeance soon. Just remember, I'll be the one cutting the Shogun low."

            "The gods favor us," Keisuke spoke, raising his dish-cup. "Ere the day ends, the Celestial Empire will be born anew."

            "So it shall," Lord Yojinsu supported, raising his vessel as well.

            It surprised Masuro to see the lord of Sogen-no-tani quick to praise such lofty aims. At the council of rulers Yojinsu had been among those most opposed to confronting the Shogunate. After the succession of savage battles he participated in since the start of the war, however, Masuro could not doubt Yojinsu's commitment one jot. Perhaps because he was older than the rest of them, the lord of Sogen-no-tani was warier; through it all his voice of caution had made for a fine balance against brasher lords, such as Okata and Azai. Maybe he's seen more winters, but he's as much of a warrior as any. It impressed Masuro, that despite the seasons of bloodshed, Yojinsu's stately, dignified air, remained intact. Now that they'd come so far, it seemed the old lord was allowing himself to drink in faith.

            Everyone is bolder today. The arrival of Shenobi's main army had greatly raised spirits; and so it should. Just the night before news had spread that the Kyojin Phoenix army was approaching Saigo no Teiko, and cheers had risen among allied troops already holding the pass. Masuro was woken from his state of half-sleep, and had gone into the western forests to receive Hidetsugu. Doubts that any of lords might abandon the battle had been snuffed out upon beholding Shenobi's army. Their torches extended to the horizon, like a river of fire advancing up the hills, into the mountains. Eighty thousand Southern warriors. It was the greatest force to march under the banner of the Phoenix in over a millennium.

            Presently, a light wind blew, and tufts of cloud drifted. Masuro looked behind the base tent towards the tree-covered ridge. Along with the much needed supply caravans, Shenobi's multitudinous divisions remained concealed in the forests to their rearguard. By now spies had likely alerted general Ishidoga of the reinforcements. Whether or not he knows the magnitude of our numbers, he'll think a hundred times before launching any maneuvers now.

            "The craven," Okata spat, glaring across the dell. "All we do is wait, wait. Why don't they lope forth and fight us? We should meet them in the field, I say, and bring our full strength on the dogs-of-a-thousand-w****s." He ground his fist into his palm.

            Okata's undaunted intensity caused Masuro a wan grin. Everyone was glad to have the black-bearded warlord from Mitsubayashi at their side.

            "I deem it is not solely the South that waits with us this day," Keisuke said. "But the entirety of Isodoro, and the gods themselves."

            "They needn't wait much longer," Masuro spoke as if thinking aloud. He sensed an earthquake gathering. Perhaps the other lords sensed it too, for they sat in silence, staring pensively east with him.

            In days prior there'd been a series of isolated skirmishes between patrol units in the peripheries of the forest hills - mostly ambushes on courier guards and scouts, from both sides. Masuro had utilized sword-rangers to carry out tasks of reconnaissance as well. Due to their skill and mobility none had been lost in the Ko-joryoku Mountains. Aside from these clashes, a number of the customary duels had taken place. Different Southern champion swordsmen initiated a number of these when one decided to prove his valor and had strode down into the dell's open fields to issue a challenge to the enemy. Each time, from between the looming pines, a rival swordsman answered. Large crowds had gathered to watch the ritualistic affairs driven by codes of bushido, cheering when the combatants engaged. After one warrior prevailed he would decapitate his foe and raise the head high like a gory trophy. The gesture never failed to evoke raucous clamor and raising of spears from the victor's comrades. With nigh twenty of the duels already fought, the South had saved face by winning most. In the process a few valuable men had perished however; thus, two days ago, Masuro forbade more of the bloody combats. In dealing with Kage-waru, they had naught to gain by adhering to creeds of honor.

            Nevertheless, today at dawn, Masuro made a final attempt to call Ishigoda to negotiate. For the purpose of discussing terms for an armistice, Masuro had dispatched one of his most trusted and glib-tongued emissaries, baring a white banner of peace. Ishigoda's response to their diplomatic suits was delivered less than an hour later. Tied to his horse's saddle, the emissary had returned, without his head.

            There would be no further negotiations with the East.

            The winds blew a shade cooler, ushering roaming masses of cloud which temporarily obscured the sun. Masuro was relieved, in a sense. They'd come so far. Surviving over a year of untold losses at the hands of brutal warfare, he had become hardened by violence, jaded by grief, and scarred of soul and body. The Southern Kingdoms had marched a mournful, and bloody road, a road that ended here, at the threshold of Saigo no Teiko. Now there's a chance to amend the sacrifices, ... and take vengeance.

            "Has our strategy changed in anyway?" Keisuke asked Masuro.

            "Not yet, my lord," Masuro responded.

            "So we're going to sit up here until the moon falls out of the sky?" Okata grumbled.

            "We let them come to us," Masuro answered. "And they will come soon, mark my words. Now that reinforcements have come, Ishigoda fears more could be on their way. He doesn't know the truth. Therefore he will soon try to win the pass."

            "And when they attack?" Azai put forth.

            "We must not give up the high-ground," Masuro said firmly. "Ishigoda and Kage-waru know this is our advantage. They will try to draw us into the valley to nullify it. Whatever happens, we must avoid facing them below, at all costs."

            "That should not be hard," Harudo said casually. "They have no means of forcing us down there, and we're not like to accept an invitation."

            "That is why we make them come to us," Masuro proceeded. "And we do not reveal our numbers until they are close enough to make them count."

            Hidetsugu nodded. "I agree wholeheartedly with the strategy."

            Despite their confidence in him, Masuro harbored doubts. Since he and his forces retreated to the pass four days ago, he'd constantly assessed the situation, yet still felt he was missing something. Deliberate as he might be though, he couldn't conceive of an improved plan.

            "In the end it is quite simple," Masuro said, somewhat to himself. "We defend these slopes, down to the last blade of grass. If we fail, Shenobi will be within the Shogun's reach. We shall not let that happen, not by our lives."

            The lords of the South nodded, several grunting in accord. They knew what needed to be done. Consequently, the problem to consider was: what did Kage-waru intend to do next?

            Show yourself, viper. Let us see you with our own eyes. Or do you recoil even from this sparse sunlight?

            Masuro and the lords gazed afar. Saigo no Teiko was perfectly still except for faint wisps of mist sifting in the eastern woods. Further, the skies were clouding again.

            The Southern leaders waited. The calm pervading the valley seemed eternal, but as the hour past the silence was betrayed by the distant beat of drums.

            "What are they going to do?" Keisuke asked, leaning forward on his chair.

            Masuro stood, and soon the other lords with him. Abreast the hill they surveyed the pass. No sign of foes, but the drumbeat grew.

            "At last the wolves awaken," Okata said.

            The rhythm was a ponderous and steady thumping; growing into Ko-joryoku Mountains' ominous heartbeat, as if a stone titan were stirring in a primordial slumber of eons, preparing to rise.

            Minutes later the drumming halted abruptly. Masuro wondered what the new silence might be the precursor of. Breaths after, as if in response to his thoughts, the tremendous blasting note of a giant horn juddered from the eastern forests, and the air near and far across Saigo no Teiko. The bellowing sound droned on and on, and the lords of the South and their warriors felt the vibration in their bodies. Fearing the Wolven Devourer was rising from hell, scores of the allied soldiers covered their ears and prayed to the Heavens.

            "When will it stop?" wailed Keisuke, shielding both ears with his hands.

            "Curse them and their infernal din," said Azai, scowling as he gripped the pommel of his katana.

            Okata strode ahead of them and roared his defiance.

            The monstrous reverberation faded, suffusing the landscape. The Southern lords were apprehensive. The war gods of Jigoku might have been summoned by such noise. Masuro held up a hand to restore a sense of order. In the silence that ensued, the valley held its breath.

            "Look!" cried one of the retainers, pointing across the dell to the eastern woods.

            The allied leaders gathered close to the cusp of the hill and peered.

            Columns of raven-armored Fumei-noyorou samurai materialized from the between the tall trees, wielding a myriad of spears and hundreds of standards. Multitudes of warriors invaded the expansive fields; from afar their numbers resembled arms of black blood seeping across the dell. Towards the center, far bigger than the rest of the banners, swayed the towering standard of the East; black with red writ, and the white symbol of the giant fanged wolf. Under that flag, or near it, thought Masuro, was Ishigoda, perhaps even the Shogun, overseeing the advance of troops.

            It was only the beginning. Tens of thousands broke into Saigo no Teiko's valley. Their lack of formation surprised Masuro. Had general Ishigoda allowed overconfidence to influence strategy? While the Southern leaders assessed their adversary's strength, suddenly, without signal, nearly a dozen units comprised of hundreds of men each, rushed this way and that, flowing as dark streams until settling into an immense but perfectly organized Long Snake Formation. Masuro was stunned. The ability to merge their ranks into seamless positioning was beyond impressive - almost as if they were ruled by one mind.

            Silence reigned from one limit of the gorge to the other. The Southern lords were also taken aback. There must be over seventy thousand warriors assembled. Okata eventually broke the speechless lull by blustering obscenities. Faced with the unfolding situation, Masuro experienced an immense weariness, for all the times they had fought, and all the lives gone. If only we could live in another world, a place more aligned to the ideals of Heaven. He put his tired emotions in a deep vault, so he could be in full command. A fire soon kindled within, awakening the warrior.

            Masuro raised his hand and signaled to the Hiryu standard bearers for the ranks to be ready. He spoke to the lords with the authority of a veteran general, "Let us show the Eastern dogs what the combined might of the South looks like."

            Keisuke nodded; the young prince was wide-eyed, and took a deep breath. Though Keisuke was still nervous, Masuro's conviction helped balance him.

            Masuro ordered the white base tent dismantled. He addressed the lords, "The rest of the troops will advance halfway to this crest." The lords nodded. Masuro placed a hand on Hidetsugu's shoulder, and said to him, "That includes Shenobi's army. March them out of the forests and onto the ridge."

            "Of course," Hidetsugu answered.

            "But only half," Masuro added. "We don't want to reveal everything. Let the Shogun wonder how many more we have in reserve."

            "I will see it done." Hidetsugu nodded.

            With their orders also received, the other lords chanted together: "One South!" And moved out up the slope to marshal their contingents. Hidetsugu donned his helm, mounted, and rode up the hill and into the forests. Masuro oversaw the deployment of troops on the ridge. Prince Keisuke stood near him.

            Commands were barked, banners waved in signal. The ranks spread apart, making way for files of fresh halberd and long-spear units. Replete archer contingents marched forth, the most numerous comprised by five thousand of Mistubayashi's renowned longbows. An array of new standards undulated brightly in the sun. Large nobori flags identified specific companies, and sashimono standards individual commanders. Family crests were painted on the armor of high-ranking daiymo.

                Once the supporting units took position, down the lines, starting from south and traveling north, selected ashigaru raised huge pearl-white conches from the Sea of Kodaino Suiro. When they blew into the shells, the resonance tided across Saigo no Teiko. Masuro signaled to a standard-bearer and the forces on the moraine, now numbering over thirty thousands, to withdrew from the center, leaving a great rift.

            From the woods the thud of war drums came to life, and the giant seashells blew again, louder than before. In time with the hollow drumbeat, hundreds, then thousands of red-armored samurai and ashigaru marched out of the heart of the evergreen groves, their boots crunching the ice-coated grass. Once the droning of the shells faded, forty thousand of the eighty thousand warriors that had marched from Shenobi had emerged to form ranks at the center of the allied army. Looming above them was the giant Phoenix banner, defended by the remainder of the Hiryu riders.

            The sight of Shenobi's forces roused a massive cheer from the allies, vanquishing what fear had lingered in the wake of the enemy's horn blast and the sight of their army. Even Masuro, who'd grown solemn in warfare, felt his heart rise rise, and he hailed the Phoenix. Next to him, Keisuke and Ryoma also cheered. Okata boomed until red in the face.

            The lords rejoined Masuro at the head of the army. Masuro issued additional orders to his personal guard and nearest standard bearers, who waved their flags for the divisions to adopt new strategic positioning. Within minutes, the army reorganized into the Reclining Dragon Formation. Across the top of the pass was now a wall of spears with blades nigh as long as swords, barring passage south. Masuro chose the formation because it was the most advantageous when defending slopes; and if there were need for strategy to be modified, the units could easily move into new positions.

            Winds swished the grass and banners, and thunder rumbled in the east, where storm clouds advanced over the mountains towards Saigo no Teiko. The opposing armies faced each other from across the pass, like two sprawling packs of beasts poised, fangs and claws ready, waiting for the slightest provocation. Masuro reserved small hope that the sight of their hosts alone might prove sufficient to intimidate the enemy into foregoing hostilities and allowing negotiations another chance. As it was, the two armies appeared evenly matched. Masuro knew however, if numerous reports were true, that the Shogun was concealing his primary divisions within the murky forests, as a master who holds back a vast team of rabid wolves on strained leashes. 

            A faint trembling entered the valley. From the eastern woods a river of samurai riders surged, all dark-blue and gray, banners of the gray fox of Kusa-no-tani held high. The regiment of roughly seven thousand positioned itself by the middle of the Shogun's host.

            "Jiroda," Prince Keisuke muttered, looking on with the other rulers.

            "The traitor," Azai hissed.

            "Kage-waru taunts us," said Harudo.

            Okata drew his sword and pointed it at their foes. "I'll slay that jackal! By Hell and Earth I'll do it now!"

            "No." Masuro commanded. "We hold our position."

            "General, I beg you," Okata looked to Masuro, then Prince Keisuke. "Allow me to ride out and meet him. His head will make a fine gift."

            "Ishigoda wants to lure us out," said Masuro. "Why else would he place Jiroda in the van? We won't fall into their trap. We remain here, until the moment is ripe."

            While Okata fumed, Azai remained calm and cold. "I am glad Jiroda has come. Now we can do away with the whole lot of them at once."

            The standoff continued while the minutes dragged past. Before the hour transpired Masuro considered sending a rider to call upon the enemy's representative and deliver words. He was shaken from his thoughts however.

            A retainer rushed through the files of troops. Wild and out of breath, he almost fell before the lords. "General Masuro!" he cried.

            "What in Jigokus is it?" The interruption to his strategizing irritated Masuro.

            "Prince Akihiro has come!"

            "What?" captain Takaneda asked. "How can this be?"

            "He rides up the mountain to meet us as we speak, leading a contingent of blue samurai."

            "Ryoma, Takaneda," Masuro said. "Ride back and verify this. If it's true, open way for them."

            The two captains nodded and struck out. Although still incredulous, the Southern lords' doubts were soon swooshed away. A horn blew to the west, and the ground shuddered in the forests behind the high moraine.

            "Lo!" cried a retainer, pointing up.

            The first blue riders emerged from the pines and onto green heights. The great banner of the White Tiger followed, fierce with claws and fangs rippling on sapphire. Hundreds, then several thousand blue samurai riders arrived. The allies shouted in welcome, raising their spears.

            Upon Masuro's orders, space was made near the center of the Reclining Dragon Formation, and there the blue riders of Ao-kuraoudo took position. The banner of the White Tiger was aloft near the Phoenix of Shenobi. Masuro was not superstitious, yet he could not help but believe it was a good omen that the White Tiger had come at this hour.

            Prince Akihiro, in sapphire-hued armor, rode down the slope. Though the lords of the South hailed him, when he came nigh he dismounted and knelt before them, bowing low.

            "Forgive me," Akihiro said. "Though it can never make amends for my father's decisions, I offer my deepest apologies on our family's behalf. Now I ask that you please allow the blue riders the honor of fighting alongside our Southern brethren."

            "There is naught to forgive," Hidetsugu said. "The blue samurai have bled with us through many harsh seasons."

            "My father is right," Keisuke said. "We can only be grateful that you have returned. Please, rise Prince Akihiro-sama."

            "Thank you." Akihiro straightened to his feet, even taller than Masuro. The other lords stood beside him. Akihiro gestured to his riders on the moraine. "Though we are few, we shall fight to the last man if need be."

            "Does this mean Lord Akihara forwent his truce with Shogun?" Masuro asked.

            "I'm afraid my father is too stubborn. We came of our own accord," Akihiro responded. "When I learned of Eruku's fall and that both armies were headed for a showdown, right away I mustered my personal guard. I did not order them though. They came by their own will, knowing full well what the repercussions of disobeying my father might be."

            "You were not met with troubles along the way?" Yojinsu asked.

            "Our path was fortuitously swift. Four days only," Akihiro told. "The enemy has left many roads unguarded. Kage-waru seems to have committed nigh everything here."

            "You have risked much Akihiro." Hidetsugu nodded. "our gratitude is doubled."

            "I would not be able to live with myself if I missed this day," Akihiro said. He turned to Okata, saying, "Besides, did you think I would let you take all the glory?"

            Okata scowled, then burst into laughter. He slapped the prince from Ao-kuraoudo on the shoulder pauldron. The other lords laughed. The sight brought a wisp of a smile to Masuro's lips. It reminded of times before. Only Daisuken is missing.

            With no time to lose, Masuro wrenched his mind from the past, and oversaw the positioning of the blue riders within the Reclining Dragon formation. At best, almost three thousand had come with Prince Akihiro. Not as many as he would've hoped; nevertheless he thanked fate. What more, beholding the White Tiger among them would surely give the enemy further pause.

            The Southern and Eastern armies faced off. Saigo no Teiko was solely trespassed by ghostly sighs of wind, which now and then quickened. The sun was at its zenith among the fluctuating clouds when the opposing army broke the silence by commencing a war-chant. Giant taiko drums accompanied the death song, reverberating through the pass.

            "Looks like your arrival has riled them up, neh," Harudo said to Akihiro with a grin.

            Henceforth the bellicose chorus did not relent. At various points the enemy opened narrow corridors among their ranks. Between these rifts, black-garbed archers streamed ahead of the rest to assemble in long rows across the depression.

            The hornets' nest has indeed been stirred, Masuro realized. First Hidetsugu, now Akihiro. They did not foresee it, and now are forced to make the first move.

            "What do the fools think to do?" Okata scoffed. "We're far out of range. Bah, let them waste their arrows if they want!"

            Masuro squinted. The tiers of archers were constituted by roughly six thousand; the bows they brought were taller than a man. These archers were unlike any he had seen; probably mercenaries from a distant reach of Isodoro, perhaps even from across the sea. He had an uncertain foreboding.

            "Assemble the kaidate!" Masuro shouted.

            "Masuro-sama," Prince Keisuke ventured, incredulous, "they cannot even strike the bottom of these hills from that far, no?"

            "Yes, but the wind is against us. If there is an unusually strong gust the arrows might fall near. Since they've surely been dipped in poison, we should take all precautions."

            Hundreds and hundreds of ashigaru foot soldiers carrying large red-painted wooden shields emerged from around the flanks and ran to the vanguard. Masuro ordered the lords to withdraw from the crest, into the army, and behind the assembling shield wall. In short order, across the front lines, which spanned the width of Saigo no Teiko's western corridor, the shields were linked into a barricade.

            The Southern forces awaited the enemy's ploy; the drums continued like the timed strokes of a vast anvil of wind.

            Akihiro was peering intently over the valley. "They're notching," he said. It was hard for Masuro to discern, but he trusted the prince's keen vision. The other lords mocked the enemy's actions. Laughter murmured among the warriors of the Reclining Dragon Formation.

            "Here they come," Akihiro warned, suddenly on edge.

            Masuro squinted. Thousands of arrows sliced upward, whistling as they arced through the sky. Among the troops were intakes of breath and hastening exclamations as they realized that the black rain was going to reach them. The leaders bawled for their units to tighten ranks and hunker down.

            They were still yelling and pressing together when the arrows hailed upon the Southern divisions. Men who were struck grunted and cried out. The horses whinnied and gnashed as razor bolt-heads embedded into their flesh. Only the thickest segments of armor could withstand the projectiles.

            "Cowards!" Okata brayed right after the lethal downpour subsided.

            Masuro barred Okata's urge to bring his Matsubayashi bowmen to the fore. "Even from the high ground their arrows would fall short. They'd only expose themselves to the Shogun's archers. It would be a waste."

            But what to do? Masuro's thoughts raced and like frantic horses. There's nothing you can do. Hundreds of men were dead, wounded, or groaning in pain, and the next volley was being readied. Unseen walls were closing in on him, on them all. The bows were of foreign make, longer range than any in Isodoro. If that was not enough the wind was favoring them.

            Seeing no other choice, Masuro commanded the army to hold formation and retreat several hundred paces back up the slope towards the forests. The ground they yielded was littered with dead and wounded, some men limping or crawling to rejoin the formation.

            The enemy host advanced deeper into the pass.

            "Tighten the shield walls!" Masuro bellowed. "Shoulder to shoulder! Helmets tilted!"

            They had a few breaths to steel themselves before the next volley. The sky swarmed with the shafts like a myriad of hissing serpents. Arrows thudded into the ground, armor, and into the men. The barricade of shields was studded with the black projectiles. Despite mounting losses, the allies endured the attacks, which fell in unrelenting succession.

            Before long Masuro's worst fear was confirmed. Men that had scarcely been grazed were becoming faint; others wounded more directly, soon doubled over, seized by a horrid, slow paralyzing affliction. Kuro-shi venom! There was no time to tend to the injuries. The outlander bowmen assailed the Southern position with hail after mortiferous hail.

            Stooping behind a shield, Masuro weighed their options. The arrows weren't only striking the foremost tiers, but inflicting casualties on the rear flanks as well. There weren't enough shields. Although they might be able to withstand the onslaught for hours, the storm would cost men and horses in dismal numbers. A samurai near Masuro writhed on the floor due to the effects of the poison, clutching at the arrow lodged between his collarbone and neck. If we withdraw into the forests we could avoid most of the fire. Masuro shook his head. But if we surrender the high ground we could very well lose the pass. Damn it!

            "Look!" cried Akihiro, pointing east.

            "The vile b******s!" Okata snarled.

            Thicker clouds had blown in from the east, casting their shadow over the Shogun's army. Dozens of catapult like contraptions were being carried ponderously forth by teams of ashigaru. Prince Keisuke hunkered down again, closing his eyes while mumbling prayers. Masuro knew they had to make a move before the ballistas could be put into action. Being strategically cornered, their only option was to destroy the archers and ballistas themselves. To cover the gap to the archers, and then attack the formidable spear wall behind, would cause the allies to sustain heavy losses. Masuro was loathe to give the order, nevertheless charging the Eastern hordes was their only remaining maneuver.

            "Form ranks into the Diving Eagle!" Masuro boomed at his standard bearers.

            With courage afforded by renewed purpose, the echelons of warriors swiftly complied. The Hiryu riders, bringing the banner of the Phoenix, would head the attack, led by Hidetsugu, Keisuke, and Masuro; and flanked by Prince Akihiro and his blue riders. The other houses' divisions would comprise the extended wings. Masuro explained the plans to Keisuke. The young prince was sweating despite the autumn cold, apparently so nervous he didn't understand, but he nodded in compliance nonetheless.

            "You will be alright," Masuro said. "Just stay close to me and Hidetsugu."   

            With that Masuro snatched up his long-bladed spear and took to his saddle, barking orders to Takaneda, Ryoma, and the auxiliary commanders. The grey clouds had reached them, obscuring the sky, and the gales snapped the banners.

            "To whoever takes Kage-waru's head," Harudo bellowed, flourishing his sword, "I shall give him all my daughters, and nieces, and make him the heir of my kingdom!"

            Okata laughed. "I've already vowed Hachiman Okami that I'll wrest that trophy from the Shogun!"

            Beside him, Azai joined, "Not if I claim it first! Long have I sharpened my sword for his neck!"

            "Don't forget Ishigoda or their captains!" shouted Ryoma. "There are heads for everyone to take!"

            "With so many prizes, how will you reward us all!?" Okata shouted.

            "It's a good thing I have so many daughters and nieces!" Harudo answered.

            Laughter and cheers followed. It was the defiant madness that often came before the plunge. As the columns of samurai and ashigaru positioned themselves into the Diving Eagle, a few dojen priests were going down the lines, repeating sutras and offering prayers for victory to the god of war.

            Another rain of claimed many men. Masuro ignored it. Through his auxiliary commanders he directed the army, making the formation tighter, sharper. To strengthen the center of the attack, Shinrin and Eruku had mobilized their riders at Shenobi's side.

            The lords of the South adjusted their armor and weapons a final time, some securing fearsome face masks under their kabuto helmets. Masuro noticed that Keisuke's hands were shaking as he put on his gauntlets, but there was nothing he could do for the prince now.

            "I will see you on the other side of Saigo no Teiko," Akihiro said to Masuro. The Prince from Ao-kuraoudo was mounted, and as always, was the only lord who did not don a helm. He cantered away to join the blue riders, positioning himself at the van, close to the banner of the White Tiger. On the other side of the blue riders went Okata, commanding a swathe of green armored warriors from Mitsubayashi. The dojen monks repeated their sutras, jumbled by haste. They also poured consecrated cups of water over the heads of feudal lords who requested the final purification.

            Masuro gauged the lines south, north, then nodded.

            "For glory," Hidetsugu proclaimed. The other lords echoed his words.

            Though Prince Keisuke was saddled and primed, he could not speak and appeared petrified. Staring into pass and the opposing army waiting there like a sea of death, something changed in him however, a wildness taking over in his eyes and voice. "We shall meet these devils with a fury greater than that of the god of lightening," he said, dawning his helmet, then declaring, "With the justice of Heaven!"

            Masuro raised his spear and its red pennant whipped in the gusts. Daisuken, my brother, we shall win in your honor, and for all those who have fallen. He raised the spear higher and shook it while crying in fury, "One South! One South!" And the chant rose among the lords and the entire army.

            Ashigaru in the rearguard blew into the large white seashells, one after the other, until each droned simultaneously like the muffled intonation from a host of angels. The warriors of the Southern Kingdoms raised their voices in battle-roar and started forth, descending into the valley of Saigo no Teiko.

            Arrows sang, men fell from the saddle, and horses tumbled, yet the Diving Eagle Formation advanced, sweeping into the pass in rivers of armor and forests of spears. Gaining momentum the hundreds of sashimono banners shivered in the cold wind. Their voices and the thunder of hooves inundated the valley.

            A great swarm of arrows and heavy ballista bolts collided with the Southern army. Riders close to Masuro were struck and unsaddled, and neighing steeds toppled, tripping some who came closest behind. The charge did not slow. Drizzle was falling and Masuro squinted. Under his orders, the army picked up speed and crashed through the first streams. Now within range, the allies returned their own bowshots from horseback, and then from Mitsubayashi bowmen following on foot. Hundreds of opposing archers were felled. Despite further losses the Southern army bulled onward. The outlander mercenaries initiated a retreat.

            With the dispersing archers returning only irregular fire, Masuro now looked beyond them. Fumei-noyorou's core ranks maintained the Serpent Formation. The Southern army had crossed half the pass and the clouds were a deeper gray akin to twilight. They quickened, leaping over and pounding through the water and mud of various streams.

            Masuro ordered his standard bearers to signal, and the Diving Eagle shifted into the Spear Trident. Traversing level fields, the allied army fluidly reshaped into the new attack formation which sharpened into three wedges. They accelerated across the last stretches, barreling towards the bristling spear walls and black standards. The foreign archers fled behind the enemy's front of samurai and ashigaru, which steeled itself to meet the riders hurtling at them. The woods of the eastern pass loomed closer, and closer. Masuro could discern individual foes. There was Jiroda. The left flank would deal the traitor. Masuro aimed at the Fumei-noyorou division and the Kyojin Wolf banner.

            From the furnace of his innards, Okata ripped a maddened, animalistic cry, and pointed his wide-bladed naginata at the core of the hordes, where Jiroda and his warriors readied.

            The Spear Trident surged in a violent wave, rapidly closing in on the opposing lines. Enemy warriors began stripping away from the spear wall; certain sections crumbled back into the woods. Nevertheless, tens of thousands stoodfast, fear of oblivion insufficient to move them. Time quickened. Masuro offered serene prayers to the gods; that they guide his hands, and that if he perish, may his death be an honorable one. Hundreds, then thousands of allies raised war cries over the pounding of hooves. Masuro leveled his spear. The final instants as the last breadths of field were hurtled over, collapsed into a thunderous blur.

            Ranks collided in a crush of bodies. Columns were shattered to the sound of splintering spears and beasts smashing into men, armor rending, and mortal screams, leaping to a deafening cacophony. Searching halberd blades took riders from the saddle; spear and sword impaled flesh. Yet the momentum of the allied charge was too enormous to be stopped. The first echelons of the enemy's defense were broken and the Southern samurai and ashigaru that brought up the rearguard entered the fray with a chorus of yells, swinging their blades like scythes through hellish fields to cut down the screaming disarray.

            The drizzle condensed into a rain. Azai Mobutane had dismounted or fallen from his horse; nevertheless the young warlord was fighting magnificently. Amid the gloom Masuro saw that Jiroda and the bulk of his warriors had not broken so easily, and still held the center. Lord Harudo wailed, circling his sword in the air to rally the gold and umber suited warriors of the Tsuoi Clan, and led them to engage Jiroda's forces head on. At his side went Yojinsu and the men of Sogen-no-tani, in a rush of orange and gold armor. The two allied clans crashed into dark blue and gray lines of Kusa-no-tani. The middle of the traitor army caved. Harudo with his riders streaming behind him, pressed the attack towards the grey fox banners of Kusa-no-tani, where Jiroda himself oversaw his division.

            But the enemy lines tightened around Lord Harudo and his vanguard, cutting them off within a swell of enemy warriors. Yojinsu tried to cut through, but the Kusa-no-tani warriors' fought fiercely to protect Lord Jiroda. Okata saw the danger and led his division to help, hacking down foes left and right on his way.

            Masuro looked around. Hidetsugu was near; and Prince Keisuke close behind, seemingly frozen by the carnage unfolding around them.

            "Guard the prince!" Mauro ordered the Hiryu riders, before wheeling to lead a contingent of Shenobi's army against Jiroda's flank. Eastern foot soldiers were everywhere. In a vain an attempt to ride through the opposing units, Masuro broke his spear by skewering it into an ashigaru. Without pause he unsheathed his sword and smote a foe across the face. His efforts, and those of the other lords, were in vain however. Harudo was cut off from their support.

            Lord Harudo received multiple wounds and soon had an arrow in his shoulder and another in his leg. Still he strove valiantly against Jiroda's forces. Nonetheless the samurai of Kusa-no-tani dragged him aground, where they mauled him with savage blows.

            Prince Akihiro redirected his forces, spearheading them at Jiroda's army. With the banner of the White Tiger at the fore, the blue riders struck the opposing flank like a river of steel, and the Kusa-no-tani warriors fell before them. Akihiro's blade flashed with terrible efficiency, hewing his way to Jiroda. The prince of Ao-kuraoudo and the lord of Kusa-no-tani came close to dueling from their horses, but one of Akihiro's retainers severed Jiroda's sword hand, and drove his blade through the traitor's neck. Jiroda gripped the wound, choking on his blood until collapsing forward. The allies raised a great cheer. Seeing their lord killed, the men of Kusa-no-tani lost cohesion and fled.

            With Jiroda slain, the enemy divisions to either side also fell back, each like a weakened bridge under great weight, crumbling into the woods. Masuro's mind hammered for the best strategy. The first Eastern tiers had been breached, but he did not want the divisions to lose formation chasing after them. The rain fell harder. He signaled, waving his now dead standard bearer's flag. With the broiling violence everywhere, few of the other leaders noticed or heeded his commands. The blood haze had taken them, and for good or ill the battle had taken on a life of its own, like two beasts locked in combat, writhing and snarling under the rain.

            Upon seeing droves of Eastern forces with their backs turned and running into the forests, the Southern ranks advanced without coordinated strategy and gave into the frenzy for the kill. Hidetsugu rode ahead, guiding the crimson Hiryu riders. Keisuke was at his father's side; and near them the banner of Kyojin Phoenix was aloft. Too late to hold back, Masuro realized. Better to command all of Shenobi's swords into the depths, so the unified power of the South would not be compromised. Masuro shook his reins and pressed forward, not far from Hidetsugu and Prince Keisuke. With victory in their grasp, the allies charged into the eastern reaches of Saigo no Teiko, inundating the forests in a stampede, hewing everything that moved.

            The rain grew to a vigorous downpour; drops thrummed off of Masuro's armor. Further into the woods tendrils of fog were sifting between the looming trees. There they routed the Shogun's forces and slew escaping spear units. The enemy fled every man for himself. Masuro rode past giant red pines, shadows and vaporous shafts of gray light shifted faster. He tried to descry further into the woods.

            A monstrous horn blast shook the forests. The same from earlier, yet much closer now, engulfing the mountain pass. The deafening drone caused many allied riders to falter.

            Masuro espied deeper into the gloom. The retreating Eastern forces were no longer in shambles. Dark-garbed samurai moved out to either flank, opening a misted glimpse of what lay beyond. Masuro glared through the rain, and beheld the first slivers of the rest of the Shogun's divisions. His eyes widened as if he'd seen a wraith, and he remembered the mists of the Silver River. There is evil here. From what he made out in the murky light between pillars of trees and twisted boughs, were tens upon tens of thousands of black-armored Fumei-noyorou samurai, ashigaru, and other classes of warriors. The tiers of Eastern spear and halberd walls were endless, like the razor fangs of the Kyojin Wolf's bottomless maw.

            Perhaps the rest had been a ruse and it was here where the decisive contention for Saigo no Teiko would be fought. Too late to fall back. Masuro yelled to rally the Southern forces. In answer to the fading horn blast, the allied rearguard blew the seashells to embolden the divisions. The Eastern host commenced pounding war-drums, and together with their horn, against the prolonged seashell notes, the sounds created a blaring discordance throughout the forest. Although Masuro no longer knew what he believed, he prayed to the gods.

            With a hellish animal cacophony, the Shogun's hordes loosened their screams and rushed through the woods to meet the Southern army. There was Ishigoda's banner and the elite Shinigami samurai regiment. The allies responded by raising their ancient battle-cries: "For the South! For glory! For eternity!"

            The pounding of drums grew hectic. Enemy warriors encased in dark armor, surged forth in packs ahead of the rest of the Eastern army. They moved fast for their size, grunting and snarling as their boots thudded the wet ground. In gauntleted hands they bore long-axes and heavy spears. Devilish masks covered their faces, and their helmets were horned with red-plumes. Like bulls, these unknown warriors charged into the foremost allied units, chopping at riders and horses alike, ramming with their shoulders. For a fleeting instant, Masuro recalled the reports telling of an unknown class of warrior, ... of Akuma samurai ...

            "Forward!" cried Hidetsugu, with his sword before him.

            The Hiryu riders of Shenobi collided with a large pack of the brutish warriors, knocking some over. Men wailed and metal screamed. Among this new foe, one of samurai with a demon mask came running and hurled a spear from afar, which impaled Hidetsugu through his chest armor and out his back.

            Prince Keisuke screamed. Gripping the iron spear, Hidetsugu lurched, and fell from his horse, where his body was trampled into the mud by hoof and boot.

            "No!" cried Masuro. With renewed vigor he struggled to reach the Prince so he might protect Shenobi's last heir. But the fighting had waxed fierce, spreading throughout the woods in multitudes of men, spears, and blades. Horses whinnied, eyes crazed, even biting man and beast, and rearing up to kick. Masuro glimpsed Prince Akihiro afar, fighting valiantly. And there was Okata near the blue riders, afoot and blood splattered. The tide of battle threatened to separate them, but Okata swung and stabbed like a wild boar, goring men left and right with his sword. Nearer to Masuro was Ryoma, putting his blade to ruthless use. Then one of the brutish warriors ripped Ryoma from the saddle. Afoot, Ryoma continued to duel any foe in reach. Masuro brought his horse closer to support his captain. Before he could help, one of the hellish samurai brought an axe down into Ryoma's shoulder. Blood gushed from the wound, spilling over his armor, and Southern captain sank to his knees before another blow hacked him aground.

            The rain poured and the sky thundered. Turn where he might, Masuro could not find Prince Keisuke or any of Southern lords. He wailed and swung his sword as his horse reared up. On all sides was a crazed sea of men and horses. The shouts of their warring leapt above the forest, as fire into the sky, against the steep granite of Saigo no Teiko, and echoed across the stillness of the Ko-joryoku Mountains.

 

 

 

Author's Note

Reviews

[C. Rose]

https://diigo.com/073wjg

Of the three non-Ayaka chapters, this is the strongest.

[Kuandio]

Great review! Thanks for using diigo again. Even though it was a late addition, most people seem to like this chapter more than the other non Ayaka ones as well. Wow, your almost done with Sakura Dream! (I'm going to un-publish the book II chapters)

[C. Rose]

Eh? Why would you unpublish book II??

[Kuandio]

I figure that if people don't like book one enough, then the story as a whole is going nowhere. I also want to keep the second and third acts as a surprise for the day the book is(gotta be positive) published.

[Riverz]

It's too bad almost no one reads your writing. It's good writing.

[Kuandio]

arigato,......