Spirit's Chosen (2 page)

“Kaya—” Her distress was plain. I wanted to comfort her, but I couldn’t find the words.

She wrapped her arms around her body and closed her eyes. I thought I glimpsed the trail of tears on her cheek, but she turned away too quickly for me to be sure. “You were right, Himiko,” she said in a strangely choked voice. “I am a bad liar, and I’m a coward too. I
am
scared. You’re holding a miracle in your hands, I don’t understand it, and I’ve never been so frightened in my life.”

“I know.” I put my arm around her shoulders, holding the blooming branch away from her. “These flowers—at first I felt almost certain they were a message from the gods telling us not to despair, but now …” I gazed at the snow falling on the trembling blossoms. Each delicate white flake caused another pink petal to lose its hold and tumble to the earth. “Does this mean that we should hold on to hope, or that it’s something too fragile to survive? Look, the twig is turning bare again.” As I spoke, the last petal dropped. My eyes followed its fall.

It touched the earth and vanished.

I gasped and clutched Kaya, driving my fingers deeply into her arm. “Did you see that?”

“Ow!” She jumped away and spun around to confront me. “That
hurt
. Why did you—?”

“It’s gone,” I said. “They’re all gone, all of the petals, as if they’d never been. I didn’t notice before, but …”
I shivered, though I wasn’t cold. “The last one, just now, I saw—I saw it melt away instantly, like a snowflake falling into a fire. Look. There’s not a trace left of any of them.” I motioned to the ground. Though my wand had been thickly laden with blossoms, not a single sign remained. My recent words echoed through my mind—
“hope … too fragile to survive”
—and I felt a hard, sour knot twist my belly.

“Himiko?” Kaya gave me a peculiar look. “You’ve turned white as frost.”

“I—I’m scared,” I replied simply.

“Because the flowers vanished?” she asked. I nodded, which made her scratch her head. “Huh. And they frightened me when they
appeared
.” Her familiar smile crept back. “It sounds like our fears are playing mirror games.” She chuckled.

I tried to join in, but my false laughter was weak and fled as suddenly as the fallen petals. I gazed at the bare wand and passed my fingertips gingerly over the wood. “Nothing is left. Nothing.”

I began to weep without a sound. Tears bathed my face before I realized I was crying. When the first sob broke from my throat, Kaya already had her arms around me, my face resting against her shoulder.

“You’re not talking about the blossoms, are you,” she said. It was not a question. “I understand. Don’t worry, Himiko. Whatever’s waiting for you down there, you won’t face it alone. Those flowers carried a message from the gods, and messengers don’t linger once their job is done. The news they bring doesn’t change after they leave. You
called those flowers a
good
sign, right?” I nodded. “So we’ve
still
got favorable omens on our side. Don’t you dare deny it!”

I raised my face and had to smile. It was good to hear my friend sounding like herself again: Lady Badger was back in all her gruff, stubborn glory. My distress let her set aside her own misgivings to help me through mine.

“I won’t,” I replied. “But … suppose I was wrong?”

Kaya snorted, sending the snowflakes flying crazily around us. “Next thing, you’ll be claiming that none of it ever happened, that it was another one of your visions.”

“It might as well have been a dream,” I said. “There’s no way to prove it was real.”

“Oh, it was real enough, I’ll swear to that. Maybe
you
could imagine something so fanciful, but not me, never. I’m a hunter, Himiko. I don’t jump at shadows, and I only see what’s there. Once we bring you home, you’re going to tell everyone in the village about what we saw here. Who’s better than their shaman to bring such cheering news? The gods know, they’ll need it.”

“I’m not their shaman, Kaya,” I whispered. “Have you ever heard of any clan with two?”

“Maybe …” My friend took a deep breath. “I don’t like saying this, but maybe your people no longer
have
a shaman.”

“No!” I pushed Kaya away so violently that she staggered. “Don’t say—don’t even
imagine
such a thing! Master Michio’s alive. The Ookami wouldn’t dare kill a man who can command the spirits.”

My friend looked at me with pity. “Himiko, it was war.
The wolf clan wouldn’t have hesitated to strike down anyone in their way, shaman or not.”

“Stop it!” I cried, clenching my fists so hard that I drove the cherrywood wand painfully into my palm. “I don’t want to hear this!”

“But you’ll have to face it soon,” Kaya said.

“I know that! I know, and I’ll face everything—our plundered storehouses, our ruined homes, our wounded and … and our dead. I won’t hide from any of what’s waiting for me, but until I
must
do so—” I fought to calm myself again. “Until I
must
see who’s missing, let me go on believing that everyone dear to me survived.
Please
, Kaya.”

She came back toward me and took my hand. “If that’s what you want.”

We continued our way down the hillside. As we walked, Kaya spoke about countless matters, great and small. I think she wanted to distract me from fretting over the fate of my clan. I had my own way of doing that. Though reason told me that each step I took brought me closer to a bitter reality, my heart persisted in believing I would find a fresh miracle waiting within our village gates: in the midst of war’s destruction, my family would be untouched.

I pictured my welcome home exactly as I wanted it to be. Father would scowl when he saw me and give me a harsh tongue-lashing for having run away. Strange, how strongly I hoped he’d turn the full force of his temper against me. It would mean that the Ookami conquest had not broken him completely, that a spark of strength still glowed in his heart, and most important of all, that he’d survived.

As for the rest of my family, Mama’s warm greeting
would interrupt Father’s scolding as she took me into her arms while his junior wives, Yukari and Emi, looked on, smiling. Our three little ones, Takehiko, Sanjirou, and my special favorite, Noboru, would try to swarm into my lap long before I could sit down. My older brothers would be there too, though someone might have to go fetch them from their work. Masa would enter the house still smelling of the smoke of the blacksmith’s forge, but Shoichi and Aki would carry in a strong confusion of scents—the keen air of first snowfall mixed with the reek of sweat from their labors rebuilding our village.

There was only one part of my imagined return that filled my heart with pain: the inevitable moment when I’d have to tell Aki that his beloved wife, Hoshi, was gone.

When I’d first found the Shika clan, my father and eldest brother had come to bring me home. That was when Aki encountered Kaya’s sister Hoshi and fell hopelessly in love. She returned his feelings with all her heart, but there was little hope that they could be together: Father nursed a burning distrust of anyone not born a Matsu, and would never consent to his heir marrying outside of our clan. In spite of this, Aki and Hoshi wed in secret and lived apart. He and I shared high hopes that a time would come when Father’s hostile attitude changed, but before that day could dawn, a great sickness swept through the Shika village. I used the healing skills taught me by our former shaman, Lady Yama, and while I was able to help many recover, Hoshi died. As much as I blamed myself, I prayed that Aki wouldn’t blame me more.

As I let my imagination dance, Kaya and I reached the
road leading to the ruined village gates. I could see the rice paddies, bare and cold at that time of year. The harvest was gathered in, but how much of it remained with my people? I could tell myself that all my family were waiting for me, but I couldn’t pretend that the Ookami had left without taking our stores of rice for themselves. The phantoms of imminent hunger and desolation loomed over the land, banishing the last of my comforting fancies.

No one challenged us as we crossed what was left of the moat, no one greeted us as we entered the gates, no one was there. The smell of smoke hung on the chill air, but not the welcome aroma of cooking fires or the sharper tang of the potter’s firing kiln or my brother Masa’s forge. This smell carried a hint of dreadful things, vague horrors whose ghostly voices whispered all around me. Their message was too faint to understand, but its meaning was somehow still starkly plain:
Lost, lost, lost! So much destroyed, so much gone forever, so much darkness left behind!

I stopped about ten paces inside the village border and felt tears sting my eyes as I took in the sights. Some homes still stood—a random number of the raised houses belonging to the Matsu nobility and the thatch-roofed pit houses where simpler folk lived—but many were scarred by fire. A few were nothing more than blackened holes in the ground. I couldn’t look at the charred ruins without picturing the people who had lived in each one and wondering—fearing—what had become of them.

Kaya took my hand and squeezed it. “You’re seeing it the way it was, aren’t you?” she asked. I could only nod. A fresh sob was rising in my throat, choking me. It was
one thing to see my clan’s fate from a distance, another to stand in the midst of it, where every toppled structure and every obliterated home was haunted by the faces of my kin. Whether they’d loved me or scorned me, they were still a part of me. How many of them were alive?

I hadn’t seen a single person since entering the gates. Only the faint sounds of activity coming from the nearest remaining houses proved that some of my clanfolk still lived. But my family … where were they in all this desolation? The time for telling myself cheerful fantasies was over. Only truth reigned here.

“Come, Kaya,” I said, forcing myself to speak firmly. “We’re going to my house now. I have to see who—”

“Himiko?” A familiar voice sounded weakly from the shadows of a pit house. Master Michio peered out into the milky light of that snowy day. He took one uncertain step forward, then another. He looked haggard and exhausted, his eyes rimmed with red and sunk into dark circles, but once he realized he was seeing me and not a vision, his face became radiant with smiles. “Ah, it is you, my dear! You’ve come back to us, may the spirits be praised. How are you? Where have you been? When did you—?”

I raced to him so swiftly that my bad leg nearly tripped me up. I staggered, but he hurried forward to save me from a fall. My relief at finding him alive was so great that I couldn’t help laughing, but my joy echoed strangely in the pall of emptiness hanging over our village.

I took a deep breath and steadied myself, then stepped back from him and bent to retrieve my wand. It had fallen from my hand when I’d stumbled. The twig so recently
bright with miraculous blossoms was now covered with dirt. I brushed it clean before securing it in my sash. Only then did I clap my hands in the prescribed gesture of respect for greeting my friend and teacher.

Master Michio observed all of this and chuckled. “So formal? That’s not how things were between us. What did I do to offend you?”

“I am the one who has offended,” I replied. “I went away because Father would never consent to my being a shaman, and when you spoke up for me, you suffered for it.”

“Suffered? I wouldn’t say so much myself. However …” Master Michio turned his face to the sky and peered up into the dancing snowflakes. “However, if we three stay outside in this weather much longer, my bones will suffer for it. Come to my house and let me offer you something to eat and drink.” He gave Kaya a friendly smile. “Then you can introduce me to your charming friend.”

“Master Michio, I think I should return to my own home first,” I said.

He looked serious again. “There will be time for that. You’re back, and your house is waiting. Be happy in knowing it still stands.”

“And my family—?”

He spoke up sharply, cutting me off. “Himiko, I have never asked you for any favors. Now I do ask for this: let me be the one to bring you back to your kin. When the war came, I couldn’t do enough to help our people. No matter how loudly I implored the spirits for aid, none came, and we were conquered. The Ookami spared my life out of respect for my calling, but that didn’t stop them from pulling
down our sacred tree. Every time someone looks at what’s left of Grandfather Pine, I can almost hear them thinking,
What good is our shaman if he couldn’t even save you?
That knowledge is a stone weighing down my heart.

“Give me the chance to redeem myself by taking credit for your safe return. It won’t be a
big
lie; I did pray daily that the spirits would guide you home again. Our clan’s losses have been terrible, but if the people can believe my power over the spirits is great enough to accomplish
this
”
—
he made a sweeping gesture, indicating me from head to toe—“they will take hope for our future. Please …”

“Of course.” I bowed my head, though my heart ached to rush home.

His smile returned, weary but warm. “Thank you.”

Kaya and I trailed after him through the village. It was hard for me to see so many homes destroyed or badly damaged, but I took a bit of comfort from noticing that the Ookami had not devastated everything. Many houses bore only minor signs of harm, and a few remained entirely untouched. The thatch of Master Michio’s pit house had been torn in a few places, but the structure was intact otherwise. Kaya and I stooped to follow him inside, and soon we were sharing a meager meal of cold rice and a few scraps of dried meat so tough it was impossible to name the animal that had provided it.

As we ate, I introduced Kaya to my teacher and friend. “The Shika clan, eh?” Master Michio’s eyes twinkled. “I remember my mother speaking about the deer people, but she never said they gave birth to such beautiful daughters.”

Kaya laughed into her fist. The shaman spread his
hands and pretended to be confused. “Did I say something funny?”

“Well,
I
don’t think so,” I said. “But Kaya prefers to picture herself as Lady Badger: tough, stubborn, and always ready for a fight.”