The Flood Dragon's Sacrifice

by Sarah Ash

  “You were in love with Lord Kurozuro.”

  She nodded. “Yet I betrayed him. I betrayed them both. And it was my punishment to be eternally separated from him. Flood and Land can never be together. Oh, Kaito, remember this,” and she cupped his face in her soft, cool fingers, “love is precious. And once it’s gone, it can never be restored.”

  “But if the emperor calls on the power of the Tide Jewels, Flood and Ebb will be set free? And you’ll be reunited?”

  “The emperor must never use them again!” Her hands dropped away and her eyes glittered like summer lightning. “Yes, they’d be freed. But your living soul would be sucked into the Flood Jewel – and your mortal body will be changed into that of a Tide Dragon. That’s what it means to be a Sacrifice, Kaito.”

  ***

  There were retainers standing guard at the entrance to the tower. They crossed their spears, barring Sakami’s way as she ran toward them.

  “I need to see Lord Kaito!”

  “No one’s allowed in.”

  “But I’ve brought an urgent message from Honou, his spy.” Sakami was getting good at improvising. “You know Honou: the red-haired boy who keeps watch at the siege tunnel?”

  The men consulted one another. “Go on up,” said one eventually, waving her through. “But come straight back down. We’ll be looking out for you.”

  Sakami hurried up the ill-lit stairway, her sandals clattering on the wooden steps, hoping no one else would stop her. A faint glimmer illuminated the top storey but the flute was still silent. She heard the murmur of voices as she climbed the last steps and slowed down.

  Lady Inari will be angry with me for eavesdropping.

  “Your living soul would be sucked into the Flood Jewel – and your mortal body will be changed into that of a Tide Dragon. That’s what it means to be a Sacrifice, Kaito.” Inari was speaking. “The power of the jewels would draw the living souls from the two who bear the seal on their wrists – and their lives would be forfeit.”

  There was silence. Sakami, not understanding anything except that she had overheard something she should not have, realized that she had been holding her breath.

  And then Kai said in the silence, “Why exact such a high price?” His voice was so quiet that Sakami had to lean close to the door to hear.

  “So that no one would ever inflict such a devastating flood on my lands again. My reason for existing is to protect these islands and the creatures living here. I cannot allow the petty conflicts of mortals to undo all the work that I and my foxes carry out from season to season, year after year. I will not allow it!”

  Her voice carried such chill fury that Sakami felt her courage withering, as if in the blast of a winter’s wind. Kai’s life is forfeit to the Tide Jewels. Her eyes filled with tears and a little sob escaped. When she blinked the tears away she saw that the shimmer of light had vanished; Kai must be alone again. And he shouldn’t be alone after hearing news like that. She tapped on the door.

  “Kai…”

  “Sakami?” He sounded surprised. “Come in.”

  The little room was illuminated by moonlight. Kai stood there, hands by his sides, a lost, confused expression on his face that made her heart ache.

  “She was here,” he said stiltedly. “Lady Inari. And she told me – ”

  “I heard. I’m sorry; I couldn’t help it.” She hung her head, fully expecting him to be angry with her. “It’s none of my business, I know – but I just think it’s wrong. To deceive you and your family all these years. To say it’s an honor, to be dedicated to the Tide Dragons. When it’s nothing but a death sentence.” As the words left her lips, she clapped her hands over her mouth. Too late. She had been so carried away that she had said what should have been left unsaid. A moment later she felt his hands on hers, gently pulling them away. She dared to look up into his face and saw that he was gazing intently at her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, mortified. “I just blurted it out. I should have – ”

  “Sakami.” He had not let go of her hands. “You should go now. Lady Inari was right to warn you to stay away from me.”

  “But you shouldn’t be alone at a time like this!” She heard her own voice defiantly answering him back. “If it were me I’d want to tell someone how angry I felt. Someone who’d understand.” Her voice wobbled.

  “Are you crying for me, Sakami?”

  “Of course not!” She sniffed back her tears. “Why would I – ” Suddenly, he pulled her close and his mouth came down onto hers, stopping her words. Taken by surprise, she tried to twist away from him, but then found herself closing her eyes, surrendering to his kiss. Isn’t this what I wanted? His mouth was warm, and as she breathed in the scent of his skin she tasted the tang of sea salt. Don’t let this stop. Not yet. She allowed herself to rest against him, feeling the spare, lean contours of his body.

  “Sakami? Where are you?” Men’s voices rang out from the stairwell. Sakami pushed Kai away from her, staring at him in alarm.

  “I was supposed to be delivering a message. The guards said I should come straight down again.”

  “What message?”

  “There was no message. I lied. I said it was from Honou, your spy.”

  “Honou? My spy?” His face, which had looked so drawn and grave, suddenly crinkled into a smile. “I had no idea you could be so devious.” He slid open the door and called down, “All’s well; I’ll vouch for Sakami.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  “Ah!” Sakami’s hands flew to her burning face, which she was sure must have turned bright scarlet. “I completely forgot. I have something to tell you about Sakuranbo. Unless Lady Inari already…”

  “No. It was my flute-playing that drew her here.” He picked up the flute, gazing at it with a puzzled expression. “I don’t know why it made her so angry. At first I thought it was because she hated Flood…but then I wondered. Were they once lovers, do you think?”

  “Lady Inari and Prince Shiomitsu?” Sakami had never heard of such an alliance. “But what about Prince Shiohiru?” Since the kiss had drawn them together, she had become acutely aware of his physical presence. Will he kiss me again? She could not meet his eyes. I think I want him to. But where will it lead the next time?

  “Ebb? I don’t know. Perhaps a Tide Dragon Sacrifice can only make contact with the dragon that he’s linked to.”

  “Who is Ebb’s Sacrifice?”

  Kai’s face clouded over. “Lord Naoki,” he said quietly.

  “Our hostage?” Sakami was shocked. “Does he know?”

  Kai shook his head. “I have no idea. But I’m going to find out. We’re in this together, it seems, Kite and Crane.” He carefully replaced the flute on the window ledge. “So what did you learn about the burning of your village? Was it Naoki’s clan?”

  “It was Kurika, the fire kami. Someone – a powerful onmyōji – set him free from Inari’s shrine.”

  “Someone from your village? Or one of the Kites?”

  “Even Lady Inari doesn’t know who it was. Except that she says she sensed the same presence again seven years back – and then once more, just a few weeks ago.”

  “Seven years? Around the time that the Kites’ castle burned down?”

  “Could there be a link?” She drew closer to him. “Does someone else bear a grudge against the Kites? Someone who wanted to make the Cranes take the blame?”

  “And once more, just a few weeks ago,” Kai repeated in a strange voice.

  “Kai?”

  “An onmyōji helped Lord Naoki break into the monastery,” he said. “I found paper spell charms by the gatehouse.”

  “Is Lord Naoki the onmyōji?” Sakami wondered aloud.

  “He can’t be, or he would have used his powers to escape by now. But he must have a very powerful ally. Ah, it’s so frustrating!” Kai struck his fist against the window screen. Sakami jumped; she had never seen Kai lash out in frustration like that before. “Someone must be playing with us, using us
in some warped game for their own amusement. It has to stop. Too many people have lost their lives already.” And then, as if surprised by the vehemence of his outburst, he said, “If only we could find a way to bring an end to this siege by peaceful means. A way to end this endless clan feuding.”

  Sakami reached out and stroked his cheek. She wanted to hold him, to offer him what comfort she could. She had not forgotten the intensity of their earlier kiss; she wanted more.

  “Sakami?” he said softly, questioningly, as if he was unsure of her wishes.

  “It’s all right,” she said, nestling closer to him. She raised her face to his and kissed him. “It’s all right,” she said again as his arms enfolded her and he returned the kiss. “I want this, Kai,” she whispered. “I want you.”

  The moonlight shone more intensely, flooding the little room as they sank to the floor. Some fumbling with clothing and belts followed, a little embarrassment, and then the embarrassment melted away in the fires of a fiercer flame. She felt his naked skin, burning hot, against her own and desire overwhelmed her, awakening a rush of unfamiliar and dizzying sensations. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, pulling him closer. There was a moment of fierce and surprising pain as he penetrated her and then she heard him murmuring her name and she knew as their bodies melted together that she had never been truly alive until this moment.

  Chapter 31

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” said Manabu as Masao entered the hospital tent, “but you’re too late.”

  “Too late?” Masao repeated, but he had already read the news he had been dreading in the physician’s eyes. “You couldn’t save him?”

  “He never regained consciousness. He took the full force of the back-blast; it’s astonishing that he hung on to life for so long.”

  “No.” Masao heard his own voice as if from far away. “He can’t be dead.”

  “Yūgiri did his best to reach him, but he was already far away.”

  Masao dropped to his knees beside his companion’s body. The shock of the news had left him numb. But as he bowed his head respectfully, he still half expected, half hoped to see Saburo toss aside the cloth that covered his face and sit up, cheerfully saying, “Had you fooled there, didn’t I?” It was difficult to accept that he would never see Saburo’s easy grin again.

  Beniko has lost her husband and little Ren is fatherless – all because of those cursed Tide Jewels. And I’ve lost a true and good-hearted friend. We went through so much together, and for what? For this?

  The still body, the dreadful wounds only partially concealed by the face cloth, blurred. Masao angrily wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and found it came away wet.

  “I’ll see to it that Beniko and Ren are well provided for, I swear it on my father’s name.” He choked the words out as the tears continued to stream down his face; now that they had started, they wouldn’t stop. He rose unsteadily and bowed low to Saburo’s body before turning and stumbling blindly from the tent.

  “Masao – wait!”

  He heard Yūgiri’s voice calling after him but he hurried on, starting to run down the sands toward the sea, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the Kites as he could. He only stopped when his feet splashed into the ebbing tide and his toe caught in a concealed rock; pitching forward, he fell to his hands and knees in the cool water.

  The sun had almost set and the waves had turned a rich inky purple, dark as squid ink.

  “Ha.” The shock of the brackish tidewater brought him back to himself. He wiped his tear-stung eyes on his sleeve and walked further on around the curve of the bay to the place where the rocks rose out of the sea at the base of the cliffs. He could just make out the dark outlines of the Kites’ warships as they bobbed at anchor further out in the bay. He clambered over the rocks, which were slippery with matted fronds of seaweed, and sat down on the spar that jutted out into the water, furthermost from the shore.

  He could not remember the last time he had cried. In the eyes of his uncle and cousins, to weep so openly over the death of a servant would be seen as a contemptible weakness. But he had failed to protect Saburo, as a good master should, and that knowledge rankled like an open sore. And now he was faced with the hard and painful duty of breaking the news to Beniko when they returned to Akatobi Island. How can I find the courage to face her? He pressed his palms to his aching eyes, trying to blot out the image of Beniko’s white, tear-streaked face as Ren asked again and again, ‘Where’s Daddy? Why hasn’t he come back?’ How could any amount of money compensate for a lost life?

  A chill breeze stirred the dark waves as they lapped against the algae-slicked rocks where he sat, flecking him with a light spray of foam. He drew his legs closer to his body, resting his chin on his knees as he gazed out across the black waters.

  If Lord Toshiro had given the Tide Jewels back, Naoki would be free and then there need be no more deaths. What possible point can there be in protracting this madness?

  At first the sound was so distant and faint that he thought he must have imagined it. It could even have been the breeze off the sea whistling through the rigging of the nearest ship. But then it grew stronger, clearer, floating down to the shore from high up the cliff.

  Masao raised his head, listening.

  Someone was playing a flute. And whoever the unseen musician was, they were playing with such intensity and skill that the purity of it pierced his heart. The moon was rising, its white light casting a pathway across the waves. The flautist continued to play, and it seemed to Masao as he listened, spellbound in the darkness, that the melody was charming even the moon to shine more brightly in the night sky.

  “Masao?”

  He turned to see that Yūgiri had appeared out of the darkness, carrying a lantern; its little floret of flame wavered in the breeze off the sea.

  “Can you hear?” Masao said softly, not wanting to spoil the unearthly song.

  “The flute? And we’re not the only ones who are listening, it seems.” Yūgiri slowly lifted his arm, pointing out across the dark sea. Masao rose to look. As wave after wave of the flute’s pure, poignant notes crested and flowed into the night from the cliffs above, a shimmer of bluish phosphorescence had appeared far out toward the horizon.

  “What is that?” Masao peered into the night. For the shimmer was moving, travelling through the waves at tremendous speed, making directly toward the cove. Yūgiri did not reply, and when Masao looked at him he was staring at the azure glimmer as if mesmerized.

  “Yū.” Masao snapped his fingers in Yūgiri’s face to try to break the trance. “What’s wrong?”

  Yūgiri shivered and blinked, staring at Masao as if seeing him for the first time. “Shiomitsu-sama,” he whispered. “It’s Lord Shiomitsu.”

  “The Flood Dragon?” Masao gazed out at the moonlit sea, wondering if the strain of working such long hours in the healers’ tent had affected Yūgiri’s mind. It was true that as the shimmering light drew closer it looked remarkably like a long, sleek creature snaking straight toward them through the waters – but surely only the emperor had the power to summon the Tide Dragons? He reached out to grip Yūgiri’s shoulder. “Flood coming here? But the sea is so calm – ”

  “Listen.” Yūgiri placed one finger over Masao’s lips to stop him in mid-protest.

  Masao listened. The music had ceased. All he could hear was the gentle slap of the water against the rocks. “The tide’s on the turn,” he said. And, as if the Flood Dragon had lost interest now that the flute had fallen silent, he saw its glimmering form turn around and head out to sea just as swiftly as it had come. Soon he was gazing at a vast, empty expanse of water that was lit only by the moon’s pallid gleam.

  “Who was that playing, do you think?”

  “Someone who has the skill,” Yūgiri said softly, “to summon Lord Shiomitsu here with their playing.”

  “One of the Cranes?”

  “Whoever it was, they may not even have been aware that their music was sweet enou
gh to draw a dragon from the deep.”

  Suddenly Masao knew what he must do. It was as if the flute player’s music had stripped away all the conflicting concerns that had been holding him back.

  “I have to get Naoki out of Kurozuro castle as soon as possible. The Cranes have threatened to execute him at sundown tomorrow.”

  “Execute Lord Naoki?” Yūgiri was staring at him in disbelief. “But then they’ll have nothing left to bargain with. It has to be a bluff.”

  “I can’t afford to take that risk. I have to give the Tide Jewels back and stop the execution. And I’m the only one who can do it.”

  “If you do, Lord Toshiro will only see it as a betrayal. He’ll cast you out of the clan. Or force you to commit seppuku.”

  “Naoki is my master. My duty is to protect him. If I have to die protecting him, then so be it. But,” Masao couldn’t resist adding, “I don’t intend to die. I have every reason to want to live.”

  “Are the Tide Jewels still in Lord Toshiro’s keeping?” Yūgiri said, gazing out across the moonlit waters, his face averted. “I can get close to Lord Toshiro. I’m his personal healer, after all.”

  “No, Yū. I have to do this – and I’ll do it on my own. I don’t want to implicate you and leave you behind to face the consequences.”

  Yūgiri turned and put his hands on Masao’s shoulders, gazing into his eyes. Under that soft yet intensely intimate gaze, Masao felt a dark flame of desire begin to burn deep within him. Saburo’s death had left him raw and vulnerable, prey to feelings he had tried to suppress. He wanted to be comforted. He wanted to forget.

  “Why must you shoulder this burden alone? Lord Naoki betrayed your trust – ”

  “Naoki could still be under the onmyōji’s control.” Masao was still not ready to accept that Naoki had deliberately manipulated him.

  Yūgiri’s hands dropped away. “Still so stubborn,” he said. “That must be what I liked about you from the start.”

  “Liked?” Masao’s heart began to beat faster. He was still confused about his own feelings for Yūgiri; he had never been in love before and had begun to wonder if that might explain the dizzy, delirious sensation that overwhelmed him whenever Yūgiri was nearby.