L5r - scroll 04 - The Phoenix by Stephen D. Sullivan Read Free Book Online Page B

figures moving through the smoke in the distance, inhuman figures. They looked as though they were dancing between the burning houses. Time often stretched on a battlefield. Sometimes, this aided a samurai—gave her more time to counter an enemy's moves. Other times, though, it made battle a never-ending hell.
    This was one of those hellish times.
    Above the din of combat, a sound caught her attention. Crying. The crying of a child.
    The noise solidified Tsukune's grip on reality. Time moved normally once more. She knew her duty was to escape this battle, to return to her unit and live to fight the enemy another day. She had no time to rescue peasant children. Yet the cry haunted her ears. She could not ignore it.
    The sound came from a burning hut only a short distance away. Tsukune dashed across the intervening space. An undead samurai appeared out of the white smoke to oppose her. She swung to cut it in half at the waist. Her sword stuck near the creature's spine. The monster turned to claw her. She grunted and pushed the blade through. The samurai fell in two pieces, spraying black blood. Tsukune kept running.
    The bodies of a man and a woman lay before the ratty stick-and-thatch structure. Tsukune stepped over them. The wooden door to the hut was jammed shut, so Tsukune kicked it open. As she did, black smoke billowed forth—burning her eyes. She threw the sleeve of her yellow shirt across her face and charged into the burning home.
    The smoke made it impossible to see, so she let her ears guide her. The hut contained two small rooms, which the fire had turned into a tiny inferno. Tsukune cursed silently and hoped her garments and hair wouldn't catch fire. It would be stupid to burn to death on this fool's errand. "Tell me where you are!" she called through the smoke. "I want to help!"
    The child didn't reply; he only kept crying.
    Shiba Tsukune groped with her hands in the hot, smoke-filled darkness. Twice she burned her fingers on blazing wooden walls, hidden in the gloom. Finally, her fingers found the hair of a child.
    "It's all right," Tsukune gasped through the smoke. "I'll get you out. Are there any other people in here?"
    "N-no," came the small reply. The child coughed.
    Reaching down Tsukune seized him under the arms. She knew she couldn't find the door again in the smoke. Fortunately, the home's walls weren't very sturdy. Nearby, a small ray of light peeked through. Carrying the child, Tsukune ran as hard as she could toward the light.
    She hit the wall with her shoulder. Something splintered. Pain shot through Tsukune's body, but the wall didn't break. She charged it again. This time it gave way with a resounding crunch. Tsukune and her small package fell headlong into a broad mud puddle. The landing knocked the breath from the samurai-ko and covered her with mud once more.
    Tsukune and the child lay there for a moment, coughing and gasping for breath. Amaterasu protected fools and small children, Tsukune remembered.
    A nearby footfall brought Tsukune to her senses. She pushed up on her knees and saw a dead man walking toward her. Behind him came a dead woman. They were the two people who had lain in the door of the burning hut.
    Tsukune rose. "Stay behind me," she said to the child.
    The tot gasped, "Mama! Papa!"
    "Stay back," Tsukune whispered harshly. "They're not your parents anymore." Despite the warning, the boy tried to push past. The samurai-ko stepped to the left, interposing her body between the child and the undead.
    The creatures shambled forward. Their recent resurrection made them slow and awkward. Seizing the child's hand, Tsukune turned to flee. Her samurai nature rebelled at the thought of running from the fight, but dying at the hands of the undead would help no one.
    Three more undead shambled out of the smoke to block her retreat. These three weren't clumsy zombies, like the child's parents. They were undead samurai, clad in armor and brandishing swords. Their eyes blazed with green