Dragon Sword and Wind Child (18 page)

Reckless, blind, it sped from cloud to blue-black cloud with chilling lack of purpose. Below, all the roofs of the main hall had crumbled, belching forth flames, and the deafening roar of dry wood burning drowned out the cries of the people scattering in terror. Smoke as black as soot spouted into the air, swirled and spread across the sky, which flickered with lightning.

“The fire's curse has been unsealed,” Princess Teruhi whispered.

“That which brings evil to both the Darkness and the Light.”

She turned and gazed blankly at the West Gate beside her, which was now burning furiously, and then at the Hut of Abomination, which was likewise engulfed in flames.

Prince Tsukishiro tightened his grip on her shoulder. “Let's go to the river. We're in danger here.”

5

SAYA COULD
hear the sound of water: the low murmur of a great river. Opening one eye and then the other, she saw that it was dawn. A faint white light touched the horizon. She was lying on the soft grass of the riverbank. She sat up, feeling as though she were waking from some bad dream that she could not remember. She was not afraid but rather filled with a forlorn helplessness, like a lost child. Where was she? Seeing Chihaya sitting beside her, she smiled with relief. The air was clear and still and she could hear the sweet chirping of an early bird.

“Ah. So you're all right.”

“Yes. And you,” Chihaya replied. His soot-smeared clothes were scorched and riddled with holes. There was a black smudge on the bridge of his nose, but he seemed not to notice. He no longer looked like a heavenly maiden, and she was dismayed to see that his beautiful hair had been singed into frizzy brown tufts. Then she noticed that her own clothes were also scorched and burned along the edges.

“What happened?” Saya asked. “Where's the Sword?”

“The main hall was burned to the ground. Smoke is still rising in the northern sky, so I suppose that it's still burning. As for the Dragon Sword, it's here. It sleeps after its rampage.” Chihaya pointed to the Sword lying upon the grass, its darkened blade grim in the pale morning light.

“It seems so far,” Saya said in surprise, looking up at the sky to the north. “We've come a long way from the palace, then. How did you do it?” She tilted her head, perplexed. “And what about Torihiko?”

Uncertainty crossed his face and he seemed unwilling to reply. Saya frowned anxiously but at that moment sensed someone approaching. Startled, she turned to see a tiny old woman with a large head appearing from the shadow of the bank. White hair haloed her head like thistledown.

“Lady Iwa!” Saya exclaimed in surprise.

“They came and helped us. We used their raft to float down the river until we reached this spot,” Chihaya explained.

Unable to wait for the old woman's short legs to carry her to them, Saya jumped up and ran to greet her. She knelt in front of her and looked into her face, demanding impatiently, “Lady Iwa, where's Torihiko? What happened to him?”

The old woman's eyes filled with compassion and she stroked Saya's cheek. “The brave boy was courageous to the end. He said to tell you not to cry but to wait for him.”

“You mean—” Saya whispered. “There—in that cage . . . like that?”

“We did our best, we and that young man over there. But there's not much anyone can do when the Dragon Sword is dancing. Now, now, there's no need to grieve. He's just resting awhile with the Goddess.”

“How can you tell me not to grieve?” Saya wailed, venting her anguish. “Why do you think I took the Sword in the first place? Why do you think I turned my back on Prince Tsukishiro? It was all for Torihiko—just to see him alive and well again.”

She burst into tears and threw herself upon the grass. Even stamping the earth with her feet could not have assuaged her feelings. Torihiko had been burned alive in the iron cage, leaving only this show of courage behind. If she had just been a little stronger—if she had just tried a little harder, he could have been saved. But he had died alone because she was such a hopeless failure.

The sky lightened and the sun shone down, evaporating the morning dew, yet Saya's face was still wet with tears. Chihaya approached softly to see how she was. He seemed perplexed by her weeping.

“Are you—hurt somewhere?” he asked hesitantly.

“You can't understand because you've got nothing to lose,” Saya said between sobs. “I've lost Torihiko. I'll never see him again. He's not here anymore.”

Chihaya felt a shadow cross the sky and looked up. Black wings stood out like a stain on the blue sky.

“Crows. Two crows. They've been circling us for a while.”

“That must be Big Black and Little Black.” Saya looked up and felt fresh tears start to her eyes. “I bet they're still looking for Torihiko.”

“Sa–ya,” one of the crows called familiarly, and, folding its wings, it dove down out of the sky and landed on the grass with such force that it had to flap its wings and flutter about. It hopped right up to her and tilted its glossy black head. “Man, I'm tired! I searched all over for you. I never dreamed that you'd come this far.”

Stunned at the bird's eloquent speech, Saya stopped crying and stared.

“It's me,” the crow said, hopping onto her knee. “Didn't you get my message? I told you not to cry, and to wait for me.”

“Torihiko!” Saya shrieked, but could not say another word. She stared at the crow, which resembled a little demon with shining black eyes, too astounded to even consider whether she was happy or sad.

“I had to think about it—whether to go to the Goddess or not. But I figured that the Goddess wouldn't cry if she didn't see me, whereas you would. So I gave up the idea of going. I decided to stay with you even if it means being a crow. It wasn't very nice for Big Black, but I think he'd understand.”

Saya looked at Chihaya, at a loss as to how to respond. “You?”

Chihaya nodded. “But he'll never be able to return to his original form. Because his body was burned.”

“It doesn't matter,” Torihiko cried in a cheerful crow voice. “Did you know that crows live as long as human beings?”

chapter
four
R
EVOLT

Corpses fill the sea

and the mountain grasses deep.

I shall die by my emperor's side;

a peaceful death I will not seek.

— Shoku Nihongi

Revolt

S
OON AFTER THEY HAD
successfully rescued Saya, Chihaya, and Torihiko, the infiltrators consisting of Lady Iwa, Lord Shinado, and two attendants discarded their raft and headed into the mountains. They followed the ridges, spending the night on one of the peaks, and continued walking the next day. In the afternoon, as they descended a mountain slope, they glimpsed the scenery far below them. The dense forest of pine and chinquapin ended abruptly at the mountain's foot, and beyond it shone a bright band of water, bluer than the sky that met it at the horizon.

“Is that the sea?” Saya asked Torihiko, who was perched on her shoulder. Even without having seen it before, she could guess what it was.

“That's right. We'll take a boat from that inlet,” Torihiko replied. Once they reentered the shadow of the forest, they lost sight of the sea, but the head wind, which grew gradually stronger, carried the booming sound of water crashing on the rocks. The angry moaning of the sea set Saya's nerves on edge. Perhaps it resembled the voice of the Dragon Sword in some way. But the roar of the waves summoned rain rather than fire. In the late afternoon the clouds began to thicken, and by dusk raindrops had already begun to fall. The wind buffeted the travelers, and a driving rain lashed their faces, showing no sign of abating.

“I'm afraid we won't be able to put to sea while this lasts,” Lord Shinado said to Lady Iwa. “We'll have to wait out the storm on shore.”

“That's all right. We don't seem to have been followed, which was my main worry. We can seek shelter in the village down in that cove.”

“Wouldn't it be better to avoid being seen? What if this storm continues for several days . . . ?”

“Don't worry. This is nothing, no more than a baby crow's temper tantrum. It'll be over by tomorrow,” she replied confidently. “We got here in a night and a day. It can't hurt to sleep in a little more comfort tonight.”

Saya inwardly greeted Lady Iwa's decision with wholehearted relief. They had traveled in such haste that she had had no chance to recover from the shock of what had happened in the palace. Her head was filled with a thick fog and everything seemed unreal. The dull pain in her aching feet and the weight of her drenched clothing seemed like keynotes in an endless nightmare, and she desperately needed time and rest in order to wake up and return to the real world.

It was quite dark by the time the travelers reached the shore. They trudged along the bay, unable to light their way with a torch due to the howling wind, until they finally stumbled upon a row of houses. The yellow light of an oil lamp glimpsed through the cracks in one of the doors seemed the warmest, most welcoming sight in the world. One of the attendants negotiated with the head of the household and, when it was finally settled that the men would sleep in the shed and the women in the house, Saya could have cried in relief. The house was a low-roofed fisherman's hut built over a sunken pit of sandy earth, and a pungent, fishy odor assailed them when they entered. The fisherman had brought in a net with scraps of seaweed clinging to it and appeared to be in the middle of mending it. Gutted fish had been strung together and hung around the smoke hole to dry. Perhaps because of the salt air, the round wooden pillars were badly decayed and the house creaked and shuddered with every gust of wind, but it did not come tumbling down. Despite their frugal lifestyle, the family with its many red-faced children was cheerful, and willingly served the guests bowls of hot soup with strips of dried fish. Saya's clothes were barely dry, however, before her eyelids began to droop, and she could hardly taste the soup that passed her lips. She soon left the circle of laughing conversation and laid down in a corner, listening to the raging wind howl outside the thin wooden wall. It drowned out the voices within and bellowed, as if demanding something in a great loud voice of its own.

Who? Where? Why? When? How?

Who could it be talking to?
she wondered vaguely, but as she listened to the endless questioning she drifted into a deep sleep.

WHEN SHE OPENED HER EYES
the next morning, the fisherman and his family had already finished breakfast and gone outside. They had been up since before dawn. Bereft of even the smallest child, the house appeared large and empty. Lady Iwa sat alone beside the hearth, her small hands moving busily as she worked on something. Saya crawled from her sleeping place and looked out the open door. The storm had passed as though it had never been, and the sky was clear. The fisherman's family stood side by side and greeted the sun as it rose above the rocky crags in the distance. Saya's heart ached as she watched their still figures from behind.

Lady Iwa called to her. “There's some rice porridge in the pot for you. You should eat it while it's still hot.”

Saya turned away from the door as if shaking herself free and removed the lid from a large cauldron hanging on the hearth hook. This was the sort of breakfast she used to eat at home. Sitting down with a bowl in her hand, she looked at what Lady Iwa was doing. The old woman had patiently hollowed out two pieces of wood and was now binding them together with wisteria vines.

When Saya asked what the old woman was making, she casually replied, “A sheath. For the Sword. You can't carry that blade unsheathed forever.”

“Hmm,” Saya murmured noncommittally and glanced at the Sword, which lay nearby, thickly wrapped in cloth. The thought of it depressed her. Everyone feared it, even Lady Iwa and Lord Shinado. She, too, dreaded it as much as everyone else, yet they forced her to carry it, insisting that it must be guarded by the priestess. Having no alternative, she had wrapped it in cloth and carried it on her shoulder, but it was a cumbersome burden, constantly catching on thickets as they traveled along the mountain paths.

Why was I chosen as Priestess of the Sword? Will I have to carry
this thing with me for the rest of my life? What on earth is going to
happen?

She longed to ask Lady Iwa but kept losing her nerve. As she was rolling the questions about on the tip of her tongue, she sensed someone standing in the doorway. Looking over her shoulder, she saw an unknown youth and stared up at him suspiciously until she was able to discern his features against the backlight. Then she cried out in astonishment.

“Chihaya? I didn't recognize you!”

Lord Shinado must have arranged it. Chihaya was dressed in a faded indigo jacket and knee-length trousers like those the fisherman and his children wore. His singed hair had been evenly trimmed and fastened in loops on either side of his head. Although he was perhaps a little too pale, to the casual observer he could pass for an ordinary boy. Saya was so pleased that she laughed aloud. It made her glad to think that Lord Shinado had noticed Chihaya's ragged appearance. Since their first meeting, she had stood in awe of Lord Shinado. There was something in his dark face, rugged features, and piercing gaze that suggested he would be a hard judge of others, and despite the fact that he had come to her aid, she was afraid he would never forgive her for following the Light without a thought for her own people. This was one reason she had not yet told anyone how or why she had left the palace with Chihaya. And apparently it never even occurred to Chihaya to explain himself. Saya wondered at his reception by the people of Darkness. They did not reject him as he tagged along, but neither did they welcome him or ask him any questions. Rather, they ignored him, behaving as if he was not there. This had nagged at her mind, although she had had no energy left to spare for others. Chihaya's new outfit, however, indicated that Lord Shinado and the others had accepted him as part of their group. “Not bad,” she teased him. “It suits you.”