The Last Ride of Shinjo Katsu

Samurai Shinjo Katsu must put aside his bitterness when he is hired to accompany a young noble seeking glory on her Long Ride, the final test before adulthood, in this new tale of the Unicorn Clan from Aconyte Books.

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The Last Ride of Shinjo Katsu

A Tale of the Unicorn Clan

by Evan Dicken

The youth waited in the shadow of Far Traveler Castle’s southern gate. Shinjo Katsu had seen her like before – all silks, sable, armor freshly lacquered. The warhorse hitched near the trough was worth more than Katsu earned in a year – or ten, for that matter.

“You are late.” She strode over, bold as a hunting hawk.

“You must be Nara.” Katsu’s horse gave a soft whicker of relief as he slid from the saddle. Although tough as trail jerky, Mondai was starting to feel his years. To be honest, so was Katsu.

Shinjo Nara bristled at Katsu’s familiar speech. Normally, it would have been dangerous for Katsu to address a clan noble so casually, even one yet to undergo their coming of age ceremony; but Nara had chosen to prove herself on a Long Ride. Until she presented the clan with something of note, her rank meant nothing.

“Best get used to familiarity.” Katsu gave a creaky laugh. “Out there on the plains it’s not names that matter, but deeds.”

Nara’s lip curled. “I have never hidden behind my name.”

Not an idle boast. Even Katsu had heard of Shinjo Nara. A prodigy with horse and bow, at fourteen, she was already outshooting samurai with decades of experience.

“So the young hawk has talons.” Katsu hooked his thumbs in his broad leather belt.

“Sharper than your wits, old man.” Nara turned to her mount, rechecking her equipment.

Shaking his head, Katsu ambled over to Mondai. The short, stocky horse was busily helping himself to fodder usually reserved for more important steeds.

“Shall I have lunch brought around?” Nara called from atop her mount. “Or will you be ready before midday?”

Katsu felt his shoulders tense and willed himself to relax. Regretfully, he tugged Mondai from the trough, earning a nip for his trouble. Katsu couldn’t blame the horse for his indulgence. The ground ahead was hard and cold. They had to seize what pleasures they could. Katsu himself had spent last evening outside Far Traveler Castle, drinking and gambling away the fistful of silver that had been his reward for accompanying Nara.

The nobles spoke of dignity, one last jaunt across the plains before Katsu hung up bow and bridle. Despite their flowery words, the Long Ride was just a way to be rid of him. As if Katsu were some decrepit stallion to be put out to pasture.

Bitterness sharpened the ache behind Katsu’s eyes. He climbed onto Mondai, settling into the saddle.

“Where do we ride?”

Nara turned in her saddle. “My father recommended we make for Battle Maiden Castle, then east across the plains. But I intend to ride for Khanbulak and beyond. There will be more opportunity to distinguish myself beyond the safety of Unicorn lands.”

“Safety?” Katsu drew up his left sleeve to display a scar that stretched from wrist to elbow. “Got this from a Lion magari-yari not twenty miles from Water Dragon Lake.”

“Did you win?” Nara asked.

Katsu rocked in his saddle, bemused. “We sent those Lion thieves limping home, if that’s what you mean.”

“A victory.” She inclined her head. “Yet I have never heard of it.”

Katsu frowned. “It was a border skirmish.”

“Exactly,” Nara said. “I am looking for glory, not scars.”

Katsu shook his head, sighing. “Often, the two ride side by side.”

Nara turned her horse toward the gate. “Khanbulak.”

“As you say,” Katsu replied. The road to Khanbulak was unforgiving, but Katsu’s place was to observe. The Shinjo love of exploration was matched only by their capacity for embellishment. It was one thing to tell tall tales around the fire, quite another to exaggerate one’s deeds before the elders. The pressure to impress had been known to crack even the most forthright riders. Thus the need for a companion to watch, advise, and report the truth.

Nara rode from the castle gate, back straight as a banner pole. With a flick of the reins, Katsu sent Mondai trotting after. Already, he could feel a groan building deep within his chest.

It was going to be a very long ride, indeed.

They went south from Far Traveler Castle, skirting the rocky coast of Water Dragon Lake. Nara set a quick pace. Seeing the young noble’s obvious eagerness made Katsu wonder if he had ever been so hungry. There must have been a time; but he had lost it, bit by bit – some with an old friend, a scattering on the battlefield, a marriage proposal refused, a promotion that always seemed just over the next rise. Now he had little ambition beyond making it through the day. Still, he could not help but wonder how his life might have been different if, just once, he had chosen boldness.

Gradually, the coastal plains gave way to scattered pines and maples, trees thickening as they entered Dragon’s Heart Forest. Massive cedars spread high shadowed branches. Although Dragon’s Heart still bore the scars of Lion Clan logging, the breaks in the canopy were few, patches of bracken and slash pine easily avoided.

The forest swallowed their hoofbeats. Nara’s warhorse was already huffing, stamina unequal to his rider’s enthusiasm.

Now it was Mondai who set the pace. Although the smaller horse’s amiable trot seemed to irritate Nara, she was smart enough to recognize the wisdom of conserving her mount’s strength. Even so, her patience frayed as Katsu called the fourth halt of the afternoon.

“Why are we stopping again?”

“It’s called the Long Ride for a reason.” He swung down with a grin. “Can’t gallop to your destiny.”

“Fine advice from a man who never found his.” Nara dismounted, rooting around in her saddlebags. Even Unicorn nobles were not spared stable duty. Despite her youth, Nara worked diligently with hoof pick and curry comb, loosening straps and removing the bridle so her mount could drink from a brook that wound between the gnarled tree roots.

Another day saw them clear of Dragon’s Heart and into Utaku lands. As a Long Rider, Nara bore a travel writ from the Unicorn Clan Champion herself. Still, Katsu expected to be stopped by one of the many Utaku patrols. He was surprised when they met not Battle Maidens, but Shinjo guards.

The broad-faced captain frowned down at Nara’s papers, mustache twitching. “Been some time since I’ve seen Long Riders.”

“We honor the old ways.” Nara spoke the words like a challenge. “We ride for Khanbulak and beyond.”

The captain ignored her brusqueness. “Better to head east, lady. I’ve heard tales of travelers gone missing on the road to Khanbulak. Entire caravans lost.”

“That is precisely why I chose it,” Nara replied.

A strange expression flickered across the captain’s face. The sudden hardness in his eyes caused the hair on Katsu’s arms to prickle. But the man only bowed in his saddle, leather creaking.

“As you say, lady.” At their captain’s gesture, the riders parted.

This time, Katsu was happy to let Nara set the pace.

“Odd,” he remarked at camp that night. “Almost thought he was going to order us to turn back by force.”

“My father’s guards,” Nara said between bites of millet cake. “We were meant to go east. No doubt they had something prepared, but I will not be spoon-fed glory like some pampered princess.”

Katsu fixed her with an appraising look. Although an uncommon and antiquated ritual, the requirements of a Long Ride strictly forbade interference. Still, Nara’s parents were close advisors to the Khan of Khans. If any could bend the rules, it was them.

“No doubt you would have preferred a gentle ride to the Shrine of Shimmering Grasses.” Nara tossed the rest of her cake into the fire, chuckling. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Katsu scowled at the wasted food. “A bit of courtesy won’t speed things along, but it makes the ride easier.”

She ignored him. “Father wanted to send one of his best scouts. I asked for you personally.”

Katsu pulled a face. “Why would you do a damn fool thing like that?”

“Because I wanted someone who would not get in my way.” She reddened, apparently mistaking his humor for sarcasm. “You have no connection to my father and no deeds of note.” She thrust her chin at her mount, then Mondai. “Not all steeds are warhorses. Some bear more mundane cargo.”

Katsu looked away, stung. “Out here, we carry our own burdens.”

“Come up with that gem all on your own, old man?” Nara laughed.

“Fine, you win.” Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Katsu stood. “Have the fire to yourself. May it warm you better than my company.”

Nara seemed about to reply, but Katsu turned away, making for his bedroll.

He’d had his fill of nobles for the night.

They passed the next days in silence, which suited Katsu fine. After the river ferry, Nara rode ahead, her expression hard as a battle mask.

Horses were rough on roads, so the Unicorn kept few. There were other travelers – merchants from Khanbulak, herders driving flocks of goats to summer pastures. Occasionally, Katsu spotted riders on the horizon. Little more than distant shadows to the rear, they never drew close enough for him to make out.

Following the curve of the Spine of the World mountains, the road wound into the highlands that marked the edge of Ide lands. These, in turn, gave way to the broad Moto steppes.

Katsu had heard visitors from other clans call the Unicorn fiefs deserted, but the plains were abuzz with activity if one only knew where to look. Katsu had always laughed at other clans’ confusion. Now, descending from the wide plateau, he got a glimpse of what they must feel.

The steppes were deserted, the trade road a narrow ribbon floating upon a sea of grass.

Nara reined up next to Katsu, silent before the vast expanse.

Strangely, the feeling of insignificance did not unsettle Katsu. Rather, his bitterness seemed irrelevant next to the waves of rippling grass, like blood shed into a golden sea.

He had only to glance at Nara to see she felt the same peace. The young noble’s eyes positively gleamed. Almost as one, they drew in a slow breath, drinking in the wind, the earth, the whispering grass. All the sharpness between them seemed to melt away. In that moment, they were not noble and samurai, child and elder; they were Unicorn, they were Shinjo.

With a wild whoop, Nara kicked her horse into a gallop. Normally Katsu would have been concerned about falls or broken legs, but it felt as if Shinjo herself urged him on.

They rode for the better part of a mile, laughing and shouting. It was not a race. There was no challenge save the horizon. The wind sang in their blood, drawing them ever onward. Only when grass stretched around them did they rein up, breathless and exuberant.

“To the Hells with Khanbulak!” Nara shouted, arms spread as if to embrace the entire steppe. “My destiny lies not on any road.”

Katsu sat back in his saddle, the easy camaraderie of moments before evaporating like morning mist.

“These are wild lands, even for the Unicorn.” He regarded the steppes with a jaundiced eye. “That grass will swallow us easily as a dragon.”

“You’re thinking like a scout, old man,” Nara replied.

“Thinking like a scout is what let me grow old,” Katsu replied. “It is one thing to seek adventure, but to charge ahead blindly is neither wise nor safe.”

Nara sniffed. “Safety is not the purpose of a Long Ride.”

“What use are tales of glory if none live to tell them?” Katsu asked.

“What use is a long life if none remember you ever lived?” She turned her horse. “For once, no one can tell me where to ride – not you, not the clan, and not my parents.”

Katsu’s scowl felt carved from stone. “I am not your father.”

Her laugh was cutting. “On that, we agree.”

“I did not ask to be here,” he said.

“Then go home.” She jerked her head back down the trail.

“You won’t last a day alone.” It was unkind and most likely untrue, but Katsu was finished holding his tongue. “A Long Ride is not about where you travel, but how. Like it or not, we’re in this together.”

Her lip curled. “Someone once told me that out here, we carry our own burdens.”

Katsu’s knuckles whitened on the reins. There were limits to duty. Even Shinsei would have cast Nara to the winds.

“May the Fortunes watch over you.” He looked away. “Because I am finished.”

By way of reply, Nara galloped from the road. A flicker of shifting stalks, and she was gone.

Katsu glared at the grass for some time, anger and chagrin warring within his chest. Nara was an arrogant child, drunk on her own importance. And yet, no matter how insufferable she was, he could not let his charge ride off alone. He turned Mondai from the road, noticed riders in the distance once more. As if unsettled by Katsu’s scrutiny, they disappeared into the steppes.

Katsu frowned, considering. If they were bandits rather than Moto, there was easier prey than a leathery old scout. And if they were Nara’s father’s guards, they were welcome to her.

With a rueful chuckle, Katsu set Mondai trotting from the road. The grass was high enough to tickle Katsu’s thighs. Unlike Nara, he traveled cautiously. No telling what holes and streams the thick growth might hide.

The young noble’s path curved east toward the mountains. A broken stalk here, a partial hoof print stamped into the hard earth; her warhorse left a clear trail. Soon the sun began to slip behind the distant peaks. Normally, Katsu would have pitched a cold camp, but the thought of Nara out on the steppes alone urged him on.

It was almost evening when Mondai gave a soft whicker, ears flicking in concern. Katsu reined up, gaze sharp as he drew his bow.

The breeze came laden with the coppery tang of blood, threaded with the less pleasant odors of spilled viscera. Clucking his tongue for Mondai to remain silent, Katsu guided the horse with his knees.

There may have been eight of them, although Katsu could not be sure given the brutality of the scene. Limbs torn, bones broken, their armor battered to near shapelessness, bodies were flung about as if by a maelstrom.

Swathes of trampled grass spoke to a sudden, confused melee. Whoever had slain the riders had struck from surprise. Katsu slipped from his saddle to study the dead. They were well equipped with fine blades and bows, armor hidden beneath traveling cloaks.

None of it had saved them.

Blood soaked the grass. Whatever killed the riders had struck with enough force to cleave their warhorses almost in half. Though Rokugan boasted many creatures capable of such a feat, few were clever enough to lay in ambush.

Fewer still used weapons.

A prickle of unease worked its way along the back of Katsu’s neck as he frowned down at the bodies. Arms were cleanly severed, chests cleft almost in two by a sharp blade. He had seen slaughter like this years ago during a skirmish with the Scorpion Clan. Katsu had planned an ambush, but the interlopers never arrived. After a day of waiting, he had tracked them back to the mountains only to find the Scorpion camp in ruins – bodies mangled, some partially eaten – the work of corrupted ogres.

 Face screwed up in distaste, Katsu poked amidst the dead, noting a number of missing body parts. Thankfully, Nara was not among the corpses, but he found a bloody footprint. Wide-soled, with five clawed toes, it brought back unsettling memories of the Scorpion samurai.

Worse, the riders were familiar. Although their armor bore no insignia, their horses were thoroughbreds, far larger than the sturdy ponies the Moto preferred.

Katsu squatted next to one of the mangled bodies, giving a low hiss as he recognized the man as the mustached captain who had stopped them on the Shinjo border. Katsu should have anticipated something like this. Nara was too valuable to place in the hands of a single scout.

As if to punctuate Katsu’s dire realization, he noticed an arrow poking from the ground. Fletching dyed a rich purple, it stood out from the guards’ plainer arrows. Katsu plucked it from the earth, then cursed as he saw Nara’s name etched upon the shaft. Of course the pretentious young noble would inscribe her arrows. What better way to claim a kill?

Expression sour, he surveyed the slaughter. Eight riders. Nine horses – one of which looked uncomfortably like Nara’s. Katsu’s gaze crawled to the trail of trampled grass leading from the clearing. Either Nara had summoned the wit to flee, or she had been taken. Based on what he knew of the young noble, Katsu strongly suspected the latter.

His every instinct screamed at him to turn back. These were Moto lands. Perhaps there was an ordu close enough to send help. Then again, the steppes were immense. Katsu might ride for weeks without encountering another living soul.

As much as he was loath to admit it, he knew his duty. Resignation seemed to settle on him like a sodden cloak. This was a Long Ride – whether Nara was bound for Khanbulak or into the larder of a mountain ogre, Katsu must follow.

The ogre made no attempt to hide its tracks, leaving a path of trampled grass the size of a small herd. Recalling the missing body parts, Katsu hoped the beast preferred fresher meat. He had heard tales of corrupt ogres keeping would-be meals alive for weeks. Despite the apprehension that coiled in his gut, Katsu moved cautiously. The ogre had been canny enough to ambush a party of veteran riders. Katsu would be no help to Nara if he fell for the same trap.

Dawn found Katsu and Mondai bleary-eyed, clopping up one of the low foothills that girded the steppes. Sunlight cast the peaks beyond in foreboding hues, the air alive with the calls of sparrows and mountain thrush. Despite the early summer warmth, Katsu shivered as the cliffs edged in around him.

It had rained recently, the downpour eating away at the earth, causing landslides and overhangs. Katsu spotted a particularly precarious crag and guided Mondai around the danger, taking care to make as little noise as possible lest he bring the mountain down on them.

Noting smoke on the breeze, Katsu slipped from Mondai’s back to inch up the slope on his belly.

Below stretched a rocky canyon. Smoke filled the air, a greasy fire staining the stone above bruise-black. Something distressingly man-shaped was spitted above the flames, a pile of gnawed bones nearby.

The ogre was easily twice as tall as a man. Ropey muscle corded its arms, each bicep thick as Katsu’s waist. Like veins of rusted iron deep, corruption spread across the ogre’s flesh. The beast’s movements set ripples through the tainted tapestry. To Katsu’s horror, the veins twisted into familiar symbols, characters beginning to arrange themselves into words, sentences.

He looked away before the Shadowlands Taint could speak to him. The ogre’s sack had been flung carelessly aside, a wide-bladed axe leaning against the stone nearby. There was no sign of Nara. Katsu prayed she was still unconscious or the beast had her trussed up somewhere.

Katsu would have preferred to wait, but the ogre was sharpening a notched carving knife, clearly intending some butchery.

Katsu took his time aiming, willing his breath to calm, his heartbeat to slow.

Katsu’s arrow would have taken the ogre in one of its crimson eyes had not the beast chosen just that moment to turn its head. Instead, it glanced from the beast’s skull in a spray of dark blood.

Nimble as a spider, the ogre dropped the knife to scoop up its jagged axe. Katsu put three arrows into the beast, scrambling back as the ogre’s axe struck sparks from the stones just below his feet.

Roaring like a wounded dragon, it swarmed up the cliff. Katsu hurled himself back down the hill. Abandoning his bow, he managed to get his arms up in time to keep from bashing out his brains on the stones below. Blinking back gritty tears, he was relieved to see Mondai. The horse snorted, impatient to be away.

Katsu scrambled to his feet. Above, rocks crunched under the ogre’s heavy tread. Had they been on the steppes, Katsu could have easily outdistanced the ogre. But in the tighter confines of the foothills, the beast could maneuver better than any horse. So Katsu turned Mondai to meet the charge, drawing his blade with a muttered apology. Certainly not the death he would have chosen for either of them, but at least it would be quick.

Abruptly, the ogre’s knees buckled. Katsu steered Mondai away as the beast tumbled past. At first, he thought the fiend had tripped, only to watch the fiend fetch up against a boulder, limp as sodden rags.

Panting, Katsu blinked at the ogre, surprised to see a purple-fletched arrow jutting from one of its eyes.

Rocks shifted to Katsu’s left. He turned, blade coming up, to see Nara emerge from behind a boulder. The young noble’s armor was battered, her clothes dirty, her hair loose.

She regarded him, expression tentative. “You came for me.”

Katsu looked from Nara to the ogre. “I thought the beast had you.”

“Almost.” She gave a chagrined wince. “I heard the fight and rode to help. That thing was taking them apart.” She swallowed, voice turning hoarse. “My arrows might as well have been flower petals. It cut Hokori right from under me.”

Nara looked away, blinking rapidly. In that moment, Katsu was reminded that beneath the armor, the sharpness, the carefully cultivated arrogance, Nara was still a child; a child far from home, alone save for an old fool of a scout.

He slipped from Mondai’s back, all but running across the broken stone to enfold Nara in a tight embrace. Although she did not return the gesture, neither did she pull away.

“You did well, Lady Shinjo,” Katsu said. “The Shinjo will be proud.”

“I ran.” Her shoulders hitched. “Like a coward, I left them to die.”

Katsu held her at arm’s length, meeting her red-eyed gaze. “It is not cowardice to retreat. It is cowardice to surrender to fear.” He nodded toward her killing arrow. “You tracked an abomination to its lair and avenged your fallen comrades. A truly glorious Long Ride.”

Nara scrubbed a fist across her eyes, but only succeeded in smearing the grime. “Is that what you will tell my father?”

He grinned. “Him, and anyone else who will listen.”

Nara’s smile was a small, tentative thing, but possibly the first earnest emotion Katsu had seen from the young noble. Perhaps there was hope for her yet.

He clapped her on the shoulder. “Come, let us take a trophy.”

A roar echoed from the cliffs.

It was as if Katsu had stepped into a pool of meltwater. Nara’s smile bled away, her expression mirroring the cold apprehension that gripped Katsu.

There was another bellow to their right, answered by a third in the direction of the cave. Throat tight, Katsu closed his eyes. He had committed one of the worst mistakes a scout could ever make.

He had assumed his foe was alone.

Rocks shifted up the hill, the cliffs ringing with snorts and heavy footfalls as the three ogres descended on them.

“Quickly.” He half dragged Nara to Mondai, all but shoving her into the saddle. “Ride for the steppes. I’ll draw them away.”

“I won’t abandon you.” She gripped his arm.

“Then we’ll die together.”

Her fingers dug into Katsu’s flesh. “If needs must.”

“There is no glory here, no deeds worthy of song.” He met her gaze. “All that awaits at the end of this ride is a hard, bloody death.”

Although Nara’s throat bobbed, her eyes remained clear. Gone was the pride, the overwhelming ambition, the fear of failure.

All that remained was a Unicorn samurai.

“Like it or not, we’re in this together” she said, and Katsu knew she meant it.

He clasped Nara’s arm, hopping up behind her. When she tensed, Katsu chuckled. “I may be the better scout, but you’re a far better rider.”

Mondai broke into a gallop at the slightest touch of Nara’s heels. There was little chance of outdistancing the ogres, especially carrying two. Still, Mondai was stubborn as his rider. They pelted along a low defile, pursued by roars and skittering stone.

An ogre leaped from a low rise, notched sword raised. Nara’s arrow took it in the crook of one gnarled elbow, spoiling the strike. Another of the beasts hurled a heavy spear from behind. Katsu marked the weapon’s arc and swayed in the saddle, arms around Nara’s waist to guide her from the spear’s path.

The ogres fell behind, but Mondai was puffing, flecks of foam visible on his lips. They would never make it, not like this. But perhaps there was still a chance. Long experience had taught Katsu that a scout’s greatest weapon was often neither blade nor bow, but the land itself.

“There is a canyon ahead where rain undermined the cliff!” Katsu shouted to be heard over the rush of wind. “We can drop it on the beasts!”

With a tight nod, Nara angled Mondai toward the canyon. It was as Katsu remembered, the rocky overhang draped perilously over hard stone below. He gestured for Nara to rein up, slipping from Mondai’s back when the horse had slowed enough Katsu wouldn’t break his neck on the dismount.

“Head up the rise.”

Nara turned, gaze questioning.

“You think those fiends are going to wait for us to drop a mountain on them?” Katsu asked. “Someone needs to lure them under the rocks.”

She gave an angry toss of her head. “I won’t abandon–”

“You’re the better rider. I’d never make it up.” He held out his hand. “Give me your bow.”

Nara scowled.

“Don’t let stubbornness murder us both,” he said. “For once, let me choose boldness.”

The young noble grudgingly handed over her bow and quiver, then kicked Mondai up the rise.

Katsu had barely nocked an arrow when the first of the ogres charged into the canyon. He ran for the uneven stone below the overhang, firing as he went. Nara’s bow was truly excellent. Arrows thudded into the ogre’s chest, shoulder, thigh, each sinking almost to the fletching.

The beast stumbled. Its heavy body thudded into the side of the cliff, dust trickling down.

“Not yet.” Katsu whispered as he took shelter between two of the larger rocks. Although the other two ogres were quick to join their wounded comrade, the space beneath the overhang was too tight for them to bring their weapons to bear.

Katsu managed to land another two shots as the ogres discarded their larger blades. Drawing ugly knives from their belts, the first two ducked under the overhang. They made tempting targets, but Katsu’s gaze was drawn to the third beast.

The wounded ogre had paused beyond the shadow of the overhang, head cocked. There was a stamp of hooves from above. The ogre looked up, eyes widening as it marked Nara and Mondai atop the cliff. It opened its tusked mouth, drawing in breath to shout a warning.

Cursing, Katsu ignored the two ogres crawling toward him. His arrow struck the beast in its hideous mouth. Although the shot did not drop the ogre, it did silence the fiend. With a gurgling bellow, the beast ripped the arrow free, eyes gleaming with murder as it ducked under the overhang.

It was too close for archery. Katsu tried to slip around the ogres, but one snatched at his leg. Sharp claws dug into his calf. Teeth gritted against the urge to scream, he scrabbled at the stone, but was dragged inexorably back.

Small rocks rained from above. Although the overhang gave an ominous rumble, the ogres seemed intent on their prey.

Agony blossomed along Katsu’s leg as one of the beasts drove its dagger into his thigh. He drew his own blade, only to have the wounded ogre pluck the sword from his trembling hand casually as a stalk of grass. Cruel amusement stretched its bloody maw. It jabbed Katsu with the blade, once, again. The other ogres crowded close, their laughter like the croaks of carrion crows.

Even through pain-blurred senses, Katsu heard the sharp crack of the overhang giving way.

It fell in a flood of crushing stone. The ogre with Katsu’s blade staggered and fell as a chest-sized rock made a red ruin of its head. Another tried to stand, until it was buried beneath an avalanche of loose earth. Rocks pelted down, drowning the last ogre’s furious roars. It managed one staggering step, its leg crushed by a falling boulder.

The ogre fell across Katsu. His arm snapped like dry kindling, pain sharp as that Lion Clan magari-yari all those long years ago. Although Katsu was spared the rocks, the weight of the dying beast crushed the breath from his lungs. Dark blotches devoured Katsu’s vision. He gasped, broken ribs grating across one another as he struggled to draw breath.

Something looped around his shoulder, drew tight. The agony of being slowly crushed to death was nothing compared to the pain of being dragged free.

A shadow loomed in his vision. Hands tore at his clothes as Nara tried to stanch wounds free to bleed now the pressure was removed.

“Don’t waste your time.” Katsu managed a choking wheeze.

“It’s my ride. You can’t tell me what to do, old man.” Tears cut streaks through the grime on the young noble’s cheeks as she tore strips from her once fine clothes.

“I’ve seen enough death to know when it’s my turn.” Katsu batted at her with his good hand. “If you want to help, sit me up.”

She helped prop him against a boulder, then tipped a canteen to his lips. Only water. A shame, but it couldn’t be helped.

Katsu wiped his lips, pointedly not looking at the mess the ogres had made of him. “I lost your bow.”

“I can get another.” Nara’s voice sounded as jagged as the cliffs.

A soft whicker came from Katsu’s left. With effort, he turned his head to see Mondai. Although the horse’s saddle was scuffed and there was a long scrape down his rear flank, he seemed mostly unscathed.

Satisfied, Katsu turned back to Nara. “Take good care of him.”

She made a noise halfway between a chuckle and a sob. “I think it is he who shall take care of me.”

“He’ll get you home all right.” Katsu’s limbs felt numb, his voice distant. “This will make quite a tale.”

“It will.” She nodded. “Although not for me.”

Surprise registered even through Katsu’s dimming senses.

“I thought I understood the Long Ride, but I was wrong,” Nara laid a hand on his arm. “It is not about personal glory, but returning to the clan with a story of note. Not mine, but yours.”

“And that’s the tale you’ll tell?” Katsu asked.

She smiled. “To any who will listen.”

It was hard to breathe, but at least the pain had receded.

Nara clasped his arm. “Ride on, Shinjo Katsu. Our ancestors’ campfires await.”

He gave a rasping chuckle.

Eulogy spoiled, Nara cocked her head.

“Sorry.” His voice was barely a whisper. “That’s just the first time you’ve used my name.”

It felt as if Katsu were slipping back down a long tunnel, vision narrowing to a tiny pinprick. Even so, he heard Nara’s words, clear as wind across the steppes.

“It will not be the last.”

Although it took the last of his strength, Katsu smiled at his young charge. No. Not a youth. Not anymore. The woman who stood before him was a samurai. A Unicorn. A Shinjo.

Perhaps there was something to be said for a Long Ride, after all.