The Steed Chooses a Battle Maiden

When the Blessed Herd of the Utaku is threatened, failed former trainee Utaku Kiyora must risk everything to save the heart of her Clan, in this new tale of the Unicorn Clan from Aconyte Books.

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The Steed Chooses a Battle Maiden

A Tale of the Unicorn Clan

by Robert Denton III

Utaku Kiyora gasped when the horse came into view. The long grasses did not even brush the mare’s knees. Her mane and coat shimmered with a golden-blonde sheen – white, the color of the sacred, the color of death. When more emerged from the dewy fog, Kiyora laughed and extended the spyglass with an echoing clack.

She, like all Utaku children, grew up surrounded by horses. But these were wild horses, moving with the breeze’s grace and the power of an avalanche. These were the true masters of the Utaku Plains: the Blessed Herd.

“Breathtaking,” she said. “Himari, do you see them?”

Himari only grunted, clinging to the trees.

It was said that the founder of Kiyora’s family – Utaku, the first Battle Maiden – never uttered so much as a word in her entire life. This was why Battle Maidens rarely spoke, some even pledging vows of silence. This was the aspect of the Battle Maiden tradition in which Kiyora was the least adept, second only to not getting kicked out of her own family’s school.

“Come look,” Kiyora urged, offering the spyglass to her bespectacled friend. “They’re enormous. And so graceful!”

Himari looked as if they might bolt at the snap of a branch. “I see horses all day long.”

“Not like these.”

“Not so loud! Did you forget that we’re not allowed to be here?”

The Blessed Herd was precious to the Utaku. Not even clan samurai could observe them without the daimyō’s permission.

Kiyora shrugged and resumed her view through the spyglass. “I am supposed to be here,” she said. “No matter what my teacher says.”

The weight of Kiyora’s reply lingered far longer than the morning fog. Dozens more horses appeared – some gray like marble, others gleaming and golden – grazing on the dewy grass.

“There are so many,” Kiyora observed. “See how they alternate eating and guarding?”

Himari was well versed in horse behavior, having trained beneath an Utaku Stablemaster, but Kiyora could not contain herself.

“Most assume a dominant stallion leads, but actually, the collective mares make the herd’s decisions. One starts to graze, and others follow her lead. Then a different mare makes for water, and the rest change their behavior to match. If one runs, they all run. If one fights, they all fight. There is no single leader – an individual horse has the courage to act, to break away, trusting that the rest will follow her lead.”

The tall mare calmly lifted her head, meeting Kiyora’s gaze through the lens.

The spyglass fell from Kiyora’s grasp.

“She sees us,” Himari hissed, tugging Kiyora’s sleeve. “Come on. Come on!”

Her muzzle was relaxed, her ears neutral. Her black eyes betrayed no fear.

“Do you think she wants me to approach?” asked Kiyora.

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“I think it’s happening.” Kiyora trembled like windswept reeds. “This is it. She’s–”

A crunch erupted nearby. Himari blanched and scrambled up the nearest tree. Kiyora followed, branches scratching her cheeks. They clung to the trunk like monkeys.

Below, a mounted samurai cantered into the clearing, her handbow ready. A solid lavender circle, the symbol of the Utaku family, shone on her shoulder, while her wide straw hat bore the insignia of the Plain Wardens. Her Shinjo courser tramped down brush with hooves adorned with woven sandals.

Kiyora’s limbs went rigid. Himari grimaced. Neither dared to breathe.

A voice called from nearby. “Anything amiss?”

Kiyora flinched as the tiny legs of a tree spider crawled across her face.

“All clear,” the warden called. “It was only some deer.” The samurai clicked her tongue, and her mount turned back to the herd.

She paused. The wind carried her words into the canopy. “A few lost fawns who should return home.”

As the warden departed, Himari cast Kiyora a look that could curdle milk.

Eventually, the Blessed Herd moved on, the wardens following on horseback. Himari descended faster than intended, landing roughly in the brush. “It’s not enough for you alone to be in trouble, you have to get me in trouble as well!”

“We’re not in trouble,” Kiyora replied, landing gracefully and recovering her spyglass.

“Warden Tomé knew we were here. She had us by the scruffs and let us go. Probably because she felt bad for you.”

That stung, but Kiyora mutely admitted Himari was probably right. Still, she slung her drawstring pack and tromped out into the herd’s wake.

Himari appeared beside her. “Where are you going? You saw what you wanted, so now we go home, right?”

“You can go back if you want,” Kiyora said. “I still have something I need to do.”

Himari seized her by the shoulders. “What fool thought has entered your head?”

Stable-tenders were an unyielding lot. Just last week, Himari had stopped a runaway horse, impressing the instructor and all but assuring a high station as an equerry. Himari would simply pester Kiyora until she spilled her beans, which she was never good at keeping anyway.

“I’m not here just to look. I will return home only when I am chosen.”

Understanding washed over Himari’s features. They paled.

A Battle Maiden did not choose her own steed. Their horses were drafted from the Blessed Herd, who threw all other riders from their backs, only allowing virtuous woman warriors – only true daughters of Utaku – to ride them. No one knew why this was so, but aspiring Battle Maidens trained endlessly to be so chosen. Only a handful ever were. Most befriended Utaku warhorses whose ancestry came from the Blessed Herd. But if one were chosen by a blessed steed directly, one untamed and wild, that would be especially auspicious.

Himari’s auburn eyes widened nearly to the size of their lenses. “They’ll catch you.”

“So what?” Kiyora replied. “If a blessed horse lets me onto its back, then I’m a Battle Maiden by tradition. The wardens will have to yield. Teacher will have to let me reenter the school.”

“And what happens when the Bayushi learn that the troublemaker who freed their horses will not be punished after all? Do you think that will be good for the Utaku?”

Kiyora hesitated. She hadn’t considered that. Yes, she was unrepentant for what she’d done, and willing to shoulder whatever consequences came of this gambit. But that the entire family might suffer for her choices? That notion made her blood run cold.

Maybe she should just go home. Not all Utaku became Battle Maidens. She could finish her training in a different school. Would that be so bad?

The very thought ripped her heart in two. It was like asking a fish to walk on land. No, she could not succumb to doubt. Word and deed were as one – she could not back out now.

Himari sighed. “You won’t change your mind, will you?”

Kiyora shook her head. “But you should return home. There is no reason for you to risk your future for mine.”

“Now I really am insulted!” Himari crossed their arms. “As an apprentice Utaku Horse Master, is it not my sworn duty to help match riders with their steeds?” A smirk appeared on Himari’s round features. “Although I think such a fine new steed will make your other horses jealous.”

Himari’s kindness always stung in a way that made her smile. They were a good friend.

“Horses do not belong to anyone,” she replied, “But Bōzu will be jealous, yes. I will have to reassure him that it only means our small herd is growing.” She cast Himari a serious look. “Are you certain? We’ll get in trouble.”

Himari took the spyglass. “Like you said, if a member of my herd has the courage to break away, then I’ll just have to trust and follow.”

The sky over the Utaku Plains shifted colors as the day progressed, while the flat horizon receded like an unfurled tapestry of pink moss and pale jasper millet. The silence, sustained even against floral-scented gusts, gave form to Kiyora’s thoughts.

She saw her classmates following their teacher across the southern Unicorn border on a diplomatic trip. The Bayushi provinces were rocky and stifling, with little room to roam or gallop. Their host, the province’s chief censor, kept thin, weaving, and nervous horses whose hooves were overlong from excessive stabling. Such mistreatment of one’s horses raised Kiyora’s bile.

Thankfully, those horses escaped from their stable shortly after the students left. Someone had cut their tethers and left the gates open. How curious.

The chief censor was no fool, guessing which of the would-be Battle Maidens had released his horses. The entire class would be punished, but that was not enough to deter such things from happening again. To preserve diplomacy between the Bayushi and Utaku, an example would have to be made. Even wild horses were born to be broken.

Kiyora had curled her fingers tight against the moonlit dōjō floor but could not hold on to her future. Her heart raced as her teacher asked what other school she might prefer. “There are many ways an Utaku might distinguish herself,” Sensei Tetsuko had said, her soft words cutting to the bone. “Perhaps as a bodyguard, or–”

Kiyora ran before she could hear more, barefoot through firefly clouds and tall grass. If she ran fast enough, the wind would lift her onto the back of a steed fast enough to return to the last moment she’d ever been happy.

“Kiyora?”

She banished the memory and rubbed her eye. For some reason, there were tears in it. “Did you find their path?”

Himari spoke slowly, providing time for Kiyora to recover from her emotions, yet sparing her the embarrassment of drawing undue attention to them. “Horses grow less active as Lady Sun retires,” they observed. “It seems the Blessed Herd is no different. They’re close. But once we crest that hill, there will be no hiding from the wardens,” Himari observed. “So what exactly do you plan to do?”

In truth, there was no plan. Kiyora almost said this but stopped at a familiar scent.

“Is that smoke?”

Himari sniffed, then looked alarmed.

At the top of the hill, they stared down at a nightmare. A wall of fire blocked the Blessed Herd’s retreat, and they galloped in circles among armored figures. Bandits. The wardens fought valiantly, but they were flatfooted and fewer than before.

Heat grew within Kiyora’s chest. Who dared to try and poach the Blessed Herd? The audacity!

Himari frowned. “We should try to find help.”

Kiyora met their eyes.

“We’re unarmed,” Himari said. “We’re not even graduates.”

Kiyora said nothing.

Himari sighed. “Right.”

They unscrewed the lenses from the spyglass and brandished it like a club. Kiyora tied back her sleeves. Then, both descended into the danger.

Kiyora landed at the bottom of the incline and darted toward the first figure she recognized. Warden Tomé squatted with her polearm blade – her naginata – at the ready. Her horse was gone – hopefully away from here. Two bandits menaced Tomé, one drawing his bow, the other brandishing two hatchets.

Tomé’s eyes seized upon Kiyora’s approach, her surprise shifting to determination. She hurled her weapon, collapsing with the movement. It struck the ground like a flag within Kiyora’s reach.

The bandits spun and froze.

Kiyora’s fingers grasped the hilt and yanked it free. Who needed to die first?

The archer. She crossed the space and aimed at his neck.

An arrow slipped from the bow. Sharp pain erupted from Kiyora’s thigh. But this only seemed to make her stronger, the world more focused.

She thrust the blade. A splash of bloody warmth anointed her cheek. The archer fell.

She spun, naginata held defensively. The second bandit was already upon her. Two axe chops hewed the polearm’s shaft. She blinked at the cleaved weapon, divided between her hands.

Now what?

The answer, it seemed, was jabbing the shaft into his throat.

He kicked out and stumbled, gurgling. His foot forced the air out of her.

Her mind raced faster than her body. Stand up!

He recovered first. His hungry axe gleamed above.

Neither had seen the horse until it was too late. He fell, mangled beneath its trampling hooves, and was still.

As she found her footing, Kiyora’s eyes followed the mare. Her coat shimmered with a golden-blonde sheen. White, the color of death.

Her head swam with recognition. “It’s you!”

Three more bandits released battle cries. One lassoed the horse’s neck with a rope, while the others made for Kiyora. She dove for the rope-wielder, sprawling him down and wrapping the rope around his neck. As if sensing this, the horse jerked forward. The man’s spine made a sound like dry noodles snapping. He went limp.

Kiyora turned to her next opponent. He’d heaved an axe at her, and she watched it spin, seemingly in slow motion, toward her face.

The horse bucked, kicking the axe out of her trajectory and into the chest of the third bandit.

An undrawn blade handle jutted from the body’s side. Kiyora drew it, crossing to the final bandit and striking. The wind scattered his arterial spray like cherry blossoms.

She spun, bloody-faced, seeking another opponent. She met the eyes of yet another bandit, brandishing a great axe.

He dropped it and ran.

Maybe another would have given chase, but Kiyora saw little point in shedding more blood.

Blood. There was a lot of it, wasn’t there? She looked at her hands, at her kimono. Soaked and red. And an arrow protruding from her hakama. So why didn’t she feel any pain?

A warm brush against her side. The mare seemed to be inspecting her wounds. Her heart fluttered. A blessed horse was right beside her! She could reach out and pat her head if she wished…

The horse snorted and thrust her nose in Tomé’s direction.

Right. Kiyora knelt beside her. “Are you okay?”

“Broke my leg,” Tomé managed. “Damn Forest-Killers ambushed us.” She smirked. “Guess we owe you and your friend.”

Himari. Where was Himari?

Kiyora found them prone between two fallen bandits. Blood poured from a gash in their shoulder. Their spectacles were missing, replaced by a thin cut across the nose. Cold panic soaking into her bones, Kiyora pressed an ear to Himari’s chest. Heartbeats came dim and gentle.

There’s too much blood, Kiyora thought as she desperately staunched the wound. It’s my fault.

Kiyora no longer cared if she was worthy to be a Battle Maiden. In fact, she knew she wasn’t. Her ambition, her desperation to prove herself, had led them here. She hadn’t even been by Himari’s side when they fell. What kind of friend did that?

Nothing else mattered now – not the trouble Kiyora was in, nor the growing red stain on her own clothing – but getting Himari to safety.

A short distance away, the white mare watched.

A blessed horse could carry as many as three riders. And they were swift.

But only for the worthy. Kiyora knew she was not.

But she couldn’t just sit here while Himari bled into the grass! Fighting her tears, Kiyora bowed to the tall mare. The movement tore something inside, conjuring new pain and warmth, but she cast that aside.

“Can you understand me?” she said, heat touching her face. “I need your help. I know that I am not worthy. I am a selfish fool who believed this world owed me something. I won’t grasp at it anymore, if only…”

Like rain, droplets fell to her knees. She plunged her forehead into the soil.

“Please save Himari! Take her back to Battle Maiden Castle. I know it is detestable to allow such lowly shortsighted beings like us onto your back. But Himari is a friend to all horses. They have a future waiting – loved ones and dreams yet unlived. Please, I beg you, I–”

A breeze caressed her face. No, a breath. A snort.

Kiyora looked up into the mare’s narrow face towering before her. Calm black eyes, like a mirror of the void, reflected Kiyora’s tear-streaked face. There was a calm resolution in their depths. She smelled of petrichor and lemongrass.

And she was kneeling. Why, one could just climb onto her back…

Kiyora swallowed a stunned breath. She was hallucinating, right? This couldn’t possibly mean what she thought it did.

Warden Tomé gasped from the ground. “Heavenstep,” she breathed. “I never thought I would live to see her choose a Battle Maiden.”

Thunder billowed through Kiyora’s body, filling her with new strength. Battle Maiden. Yes. That’s what she was. This was always her herd – it’d just taken her entire life to find it.

She blew softly into her new steed’s face, then placed her forehead against its snout. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Heavenstep did not falter as Kiyora mounted, then lifted Himari and leaned them against her own back. This way, Himari was not technically the rider. It seemed Heavenstep agreed, for she rose and did not buck them. Himari’s weight invoked a new flare of pain, but Kiyora endured.

“I’ll send help!” Kiyora called down to an astonished Tomé.

And then they were galloping – thundering – against squally winds and over pink moss and bell orchids. Kiyora’s pulse shuddered in time with Heavenstep’s heart.

“Are we flying?” came Himari’s sudden, weak question.

Kiyora’s vision blurred with tears. “Yes,” she said, lacing her fingers with Himari’s, hugging Heavenstep’s neck. “We’re flying home.”

The defenses of Battle Maiden Castle, which had rebuffed many attackers, fell away from a lone horse and its two saddleless riders. Tradition dictated that blessed horses be treated as distinguished guests, and many amazed faces gathered as they entered the courtyard.

None were so amazed as Utaku Tetsuko beholding her wayward student, cheek pressed into the mane of her blessed steed, the missing Utaku no Hyuga Himari collapsed against her back. The horse, nonplussed, trotted toward Tetsuko and met her gaze with forward ears. As if to say: “I think these two belong to you.”

“Thank you,” the elder woman said, bowing low. She tempered her anger – Kiyora was atop a horse of the Blessed Herd, and like it or not, that changed things.

Himari groaned as they were lowered to the ground. “Bandits…” they struggled. “Send help…”

After halting explanations, they carried Himari to the mender. Tetsuko signaled for her samurai to call their steeds. A chorus of whistles arose, followed by the thunder of hooves. This was now a matter for the Battle Maidens. The Forest-Killers would regret their impudence.

As samurai mounted, Tetsuko regarded her student with crossed arms. Kiyora was smiling atop her steed, saying nothing so far.

Stubborn brat , Tetsuko thought, but not without some begrudging pride. “I swear Kiyora, you are the reason I have gray hair. Do not think this will spare you a reprimand. But I concede that, had you not acted so impetuously, a terrible fate may have befallen the Blessed Herd.” She allowed a slight smile. “I cannot disregard tradition. The steed chooses its Battle Maiden. For what it’s worth, I never doubted–”

She stopped. Kiyora was never this silent. Only now did Tetsuko notice the red streak against the horse’s coat, trailing down from where the motionless warrior still clung.

Tetsuko’s eyes softened with realization. Then, gingerly, she unwound Kiyora’s lifeless hands from the mare’s neck.

The temple bell chimed three times that night.

Gon! “A Battle Maiden has perished.”

Gon! “She achieved a great victory through her sacrifice.”

Gon! “She perished on horseback.”

And then until sunrise, no word was uttered throughout Battle Maiden Castle. There was only the silence of the Utaku.

Except, perhaps, for the occasional thunder of hooves, echoing from far beyond the horizon.