The Flood Dragon's Sacrifice

by Sarah Ash

  “What’s wrong, Captain Kakumyo?” the prince asked, his voice suddenly filled with a nervous anxiety. He’s a skilled actor, Masao found himself realizing. No wonder Naoki was so easily seduced.

  “We’ve had reports of strange lights and sounds coming from this end of the grounds, your highness,” came back Kakumyo’s brusque reply. “Have you noticed anything unusual?”

  “Perhaps someone saw my servant lighting the lanterns? I came out into the gardens to indulge in a little relaxing moon viewing; I find it helps to relieve the stresses of the day. Would you care to join me? I have some excellent sake.”

  “Not when I’m on patrol, your highness. Enjoy your evening.”

  The captain gestured to the squad to follow him; Masao heard the brisk tread of their sandaled feet recede into the distance.

  Prince Hotaru snapped his fingers and the shadow barrier concealing them melted away.

  “A veil of concealment; now I’m truly impressed,” Yūgiri said softly.

  “But you have some knowledge of onmyōdō too, Yūgiri Hisui,” said the prince casually.

  “I was trained to undo it, your highness, not to practice it,” Yūgiri said with a smile.

  Don’t bait him, Yū, he’s dangerous.

  “So I see. What a pity; you would have made a useful adornment to the Bureau of Divination.”

  “Yū!” Masao tried to raise his head but Kurika forced him down to the ground; even in human form, the shikigami’s wiry strength was too great to resist.

  “Do what you must to restore Lord Naoki, shaman,” said the prince dispassionately, “or I will tell Kurika to press a little harder on your lover’s neck.”

  Yūgiri hesitated. Then he said with quiet dignity. “I would have healed Lord Naoki whether you compelled me to or no; he is my master’s son and heir to the clan.”

  Masao, held down by Kurika, the side of his face pressed into the stone path, could just see Yūgiri kneeling beside Naoki’s supine body. The shaman leaned over and placed both hands, palms down, over Naoki’s heart. A pure, soft light began to glimmer beneath Yūgiri’s outstretched fingers, slowly spreading until it enwrapped Naoki in a luminous cocoon. Are you expending your own energy to heal him, Yū? The thought enraged Masao so much that he wanted to call out to warn Yūgiri to hold back. Naoki doesn’t deserve so much as a drop of your precious life force.

  Naoki heaved a slow, sighing groan. Yūgiri raised his hands and the fragile aura of light began to fade.

  “Yūgiri?” Masao heard Naoki say in a feeble voice. And in spite of the anger he felt toward him, he also felt a sudden, unexpected rush of relief to know that he was all right. You’ve been protecting him since he was born, Yūgiri had told him; he supposed it wasn’t that simple to ignore so complex a bond.

  “Don’t try to sit up yet, my lord.” Yūgiri put one hand on Naoki’s forehead; the other enlaced his wrist, checking his pulse. “You need to rest.” The shaman rose and approached the prince. He knelt down before him, bowing his pale head. “I’ve done as you ordered, highness. Now that Lord Naoki has regained consciousness, I ask that you let Lord Masao go.”

  “I’m surprised that you even made that request, shaman.” Prince Hotaru was smiling, but his words belied the warmth of his expression. “You and Lord Masao know far too much already. If only you had not used your powers of undoing and meddled in matters that did not concern you.”

  Masao tensed, fearing that the prince was about to punish Yūgiri. Imprisoned in the shikigami’s burning iron grip he could do nothing to protect him if Prince Hotaru decided to strike out.

  “So you came after me, Masao.” Naoki had pushed himself up into a sitting position and was staring at him.

  “But not fast enough, it seems.” Seeing that hard, indifferent look in Naoki’s eyes again stirred up all the hurt and confusion Masao had managed to suppress on the journey.

  “You would have done better to stay with our father.” Again that jibing, careless tone. “You’re going to wish you’d never left the Akatobi camp.”

  “Indeed,” said Prince Hotaru. “One more rite must be observed before dawn and it can only be performed with a direct descendant of Lord Akatobi, the founder of your clan.”

  “And we have just right person here already.” Naoki’s voice was stronger now; he sat up, staring directly at Masao as he spoke.

  “Me?” Masao began to realize that he had walked into a much more sinister situation than he had imagined.

  “Bring him here, Kurika,” said the prince.

  The shikigami dragged him forward until he stood before the prince, who took out the Tide Jewels and held them up before him.

  Return the Tide Jewels to the sea…

  “You recognize these, I imagine?”

  Masao nodded sullenly. I’m so close…but while this damned shikigami has me in his grip I can’t move a muscle.

  “Do you notice any difference from the last time you saw them?”

  “The Ebb Jewel looks dull; its inner luster has faded. Is it a fake?”

  “No; it’s the original. But Prince Shiohiru has broken his contract with Naoki – and now we need another Akatobi to take Naoki’s place, or the ceremony tomorrow will fail.”

  “You mean your plans to disrupt the ceremony will fail?” Masao could not resist a barbed retort.

  Prince Hotaru ignored him, saying, “We’re going to the temple, Kurika.”

  “I cannot cross the temple threshold.” The shikigami’s eyes glowed like cinders as he towered above Masao.

  “Nor would I force you to do so; you will keep watch to ensure we are not disturbed.”

  ***

  Following the prince down the hidden stair that led deep underground, Naoki halted, overwhelmed by a feeling of dread. Memory flung him back to childhood, when he had been brought down these same subterranean stairs into the torchlit sea cavern below the shrine where the darker rites of the Tide Dragons were practiced.

  A distant lapping of water could faintly be heard: the sound of the ever-present sea. And as his eyes became accustomed to the light Naoki noticed paintings on the cave walls: faded images of terrifying sea dragons, with bulging eyes and sharp horns, rising out of a boiling maelstrom to tower over their heads.

  “This is the original shrine that dates back to the time before the First Empress,” said Prince Hotaru. “And this is where she made that first, binding contract between the imperial family and the lords of the sea.”

  Two elderly monks were waiting; they bowed low to the prince, but as they raised their heads Naoki saw that their eyes were empty and emotionless. Are they under Hotaru’s control too? He held back, not wanting to cross the threshold.

  “You have nothing to fear, Naoki,” said Hotaru, smiling as he beckoned to him. “If Masao had not arrived, I would have been obliged to make you renew your contract with Prince Shiohiru. But thanks to your retainer’s loyalty, you’ll be spared that ordeal.”

  Naoki still lingered on the threshold, not trusting the prince’s words. He was five years old again and terrified of the leaping flames and the wrinkled old men bending over him with their sharp needles.

  “Don’t let them do this to you, Masao!” Yūgiri cried out suddenly, his voice echoing around the cave.

  Naoki woke from the memory in time to see Masao turn to gaze at the shaman. “It’s all right, Yū,” he said in a voice that, though quiet, throbbed with an intensity of feeling that Naoki had never heard before.

  “No, it’s not all right!” Yūgiri dropped to his knees, gasping the words out. “I’ll lose you to the sea. I can’t let Ebb have you. I can’t bear to let you go.”

  Masao smiled at him, even as the monks took hold of him, a smile of such fortitude and affection that it made Naoki feel utterly excluded.

  I’ve lost you, Masao. I’ve lost that fierce, trusting loyalty that you’ve lavished on me for as long as I can remember.

  ***

  As the first needle pierced the tender skin on the underside of M
asao’s wrist, drops of blood welled up like crimson beads. The elderly monk officiating was mumbling arcane words under his breath as he worked. He captured a little of Masao’s blood in an enameled dish, then hobbled away to the channel leading in from the sea and let the drops fall into the water.

  What in Ryūjin’s name does that mean? Masao had steeled himself to accept the pain of the tattooists’ needles…but he had not expected to see his own blood being mingled with the incoming tide.

  Then the intricate work began and he gritted his teeth, willing himself to ignore the burning sensation as the colored inks seeped into his skin.

  He was tired after the journey from the mountain. His lids kept closing…

  Had they injected some kind of narcotic drug into his body with the inks to dull the pain? For it seemed to him that he was drifting further and further away. His mind was already far beyond the gloom of the sea-washed cavern, revisiting the future he had often imagined but now knew was nothing but a foolish dream, a future in which he and Yūgiri escaped the stifling strictures of the clan and traveled together to distant lands…

  “Masao.” The image of a white-haired man wavered in and out of his vision.

  At first he imagined that Yūgiri had freed himself of the shackles they had put on him and was coming toward him out of the shadowy recesses of the ancient shrine. But the voice calling his name was not Yūgiri’s; it was deeper and harsher than the shaman’s.

  He looked up and saw a stranger staring down at him through eyes as green as the becalmed sea on a cloudy day.

  “So you are my new Sacrifice,” said the stranger.

  “Prince Shiohiru?” Masao stared back.

  “Are you the one who will set me free at last?” Ebb bent over him and kissed his forehead. Masao shuddered as he felt the freshly tattooed emblem on his wrist glow to life as Ebb sealed their bond. And as he drew back, Masao saw the exact mirror image of the curled dragon emblem glowing on Ebb’s left breast.

  Chapter 41

  Ayaka awoke with a start, staring up at the silken drapes above her head. She lay unmoving a while, wondering where she was.

  And then she remembered. It’s my big day today. It’s the festival! She started to sing the melody of the First Empress’s dance. Reika arose, groaning, from her mattress at the foot of her bed.

  “Must you sing so loudly, my lady?” she complained. “It’s far too early.”

  “But I have to go to the dancers’ tent to get ready in plenty of time. It’ll take at least two hours to do my hair, or so Lady Saisho said. And then there’s the face paint…”

  “I’ll fetch you some tea.”

  “Oh, I’m far too excited to eat or drink.” Ayaka began to flap her hands in panic.

  “It’s a long time before the ceremony begins. You’d better eat something now or you’ll pass out just when it comes to your big moment. And you wouldn’t want to faint in front of the emperor, would you?” added Reika severely.

  Ayaka sighed as Reika disappeared in search of breakfast.

  “Rice always makes a nourishing start to the day,” said Reika, reappearing with a little bowl filled to the brim with fluffy white rice.

  “But suppose I eat and then feel sick with nerves?”

  “You, my lady?” Reika said, one eyebrow curling upward in mock astonishment. “You’re made of stronger stuff. This performance will be your triumph and is certain to enhance your family’s reputation at court.”

  “Do you think so?” Ayaka considered what Reika had said as she started to eat the rice and decided that it was a pleasing idea. She smiled. “You flatterer, Reika.”

  ***

  The road across the plain stretched on interminably, disappearing into the early morning heat haze. Kai’s back and twisted leg were stiff and aching from the previous day’s long descent, and he was soon sweating in the moist air rising from the rice fields.

  If only I could go and soak the pain away in the baths…or take my daily swim in the sea…

  Overhead the cicadas had begun their jeering drone; it sounded to him as if they were mocking him, deriding his weakness.

  But it’s still so far to go. Coming the other way with Sakami, the hours passed swiftly. She made me forget how tired and hot I felt… “I miss you so much,” he whispered to her. “But even if you’ve forgotten everything about our time together, I’m going to find a way to help you remember.”

  He forced himself up to his feet, checking for his flute and water gourd before he set off, feeling the familiar unwelcome pain shoot down his leg every time he put his foot down.

  I’m doing this for Sakami. No, I’m doing it for the whole clan.

  But limping slowly along the stony road, he felt a sense of hopelessness begin to overwhelm him. I’m just too slow. If only the Cranes had a secret Shadow skill like the Kites, then I could cover the distance in no time at all.

  He stopped to slake his thirst, only to find he had almost drained his gourd dry. Rice fields surrounded him, the fresh green crop rustling gently in the muddy water. He grimaced. Good for growing rice, but bad for drinking.

  He started out again, tramping doggedly on.

  “Kaishin! It’s young Kaishin, isn’t it?”

  Kai turned around to see a farmer’s ox cart approaching, rattling over the ruts in the road. He shaded his eyes, trying to see who was hailing him, as the driver pulled the lumbering ox to a halt and jumped down.

  “How’re you faring? Remember me?” The old man started prancing from one foot to the other. “Look at the leg – it’s good as new, thanks to you and Master Seishi.”

  Kai recognized the weather-browned features beneath the straw hat. “Kanshiro! I’m glad to see you doing so well.” The old farmer had been brought in to the monastery with a broken ankle by his sons and Kaishin had helped Master Seishi to set and splint the injury.

  “You look tired out, son. How about a drop of cold tea?”

  Kai nodded gratefully, his mouth too dry to reply. He took the cup from the old man and gulped down the tea.

  “Thank you,” he said, handing the cup back.

  “You’re a little late for the festival,” said the old man, pouring more tea for himself and slurping a mouthful.

  “Is it today?” He had hoped that there might be another day to go.

  “That’s why there’s so few at work out in the fields. I told the young folk to go and leave the work to me. I’ve been more years than I can count. But it’s still a novelty to them, of course.”

  “Today,” Kai repeated to himself. I’m too late. By the time I get there, it’ll all be over.

  “What’re you waiting for? Hop up!”

  Kai looked dazedly at Kanshiro. “You’re going that way?”

  “I owe you and Master Seishi – I’ll give you a lift and gladly, too.”

  ***

  Lady Saisho’s attendants fussed over Ayaka’s hair, plaiting and winding each lock into an elaborate arrangement of coils and loops, and threading strands of gold and purple ribbon through until Ayaka’s scalp ached with their ministrations.

  And the last thing I need is a pounding headache. The musicians are noisy enough when the dragons make their entrance. She closed her eyes, remembering the din of jangling cymbals and rumbling drum rolls, enhanced by the whistling roar of the wind machine…

  “Are you feeling the heat, my lady?” one attendant enquired sympathetically. “Shall I get one of the page boys to fan you?”

  Ayaka nodded her thanks, but when she saw the child selected for the task she began to wish she hadn’t; he still sported a black eye from the punch-up between the Ebb and the Flood teams. But she needn’t have worried; the boy was obviously on his best behavior and fanned her dutifully.

  Lady Saisho arrived just as her attendants were painting the dancers’ faces. Ayaka was getting a stiff neck from having to sit for so long in one position and she longed to get up and stretch.

  “Bring a mirror,” commanded Lady Saisho. Ayaka stared at her ref
lection in fascination. I look at least ten years older. The long sweeping lines of black that outlined her eyes and brows had been filled in with blue and gold over the lids and her lips were a vivid cherry carmine against the ghost-white powder covering her face, neck and hands.

  “When I danced the role of the First Empress,” Lady Saisho whispered, “I felt as if her spirit had returned from the heavens and taken over my body. I wonder if you will feel the same.”

  Ayaka gave a nervous little laugh. Possessed by the spirit of a long-dead empress? I’d happily pass, thank you, Lady Saisho…

  “Where’s my daughter?” cried a tremulous voice. Ayaka rose instinctively as the attendants all drew back, bowing, and her mother swept toward her in a cloud of plum-perfumed silk. “Ayaka?” Princess Omiya clasped her hands together as she stared at Ayaka. “Is that really you? You look so grown-up. Lady Saisho, you’ve transformed my little girl into an empress.”

  Lady Saisho inclined her head, graciously accepting the compliment, but Ayaka felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment. If I get too hot, I’ll perspire and my makeup will run. And then I’ll look like a freak and all the page boys will laugh and point.

  “I’m so proud of you, my dear,” said Princess Omiya, wiping away a tear. “Everyone’s looking forward to your performance.”

  Ayaka suddenly felt faint and wished that she had eaten a second bowl of rice earlier that morning. She sat down.

  “I must go to take my place beside your father; we’ll be watching your every move, our darling girl.”

  Ayaka nodded, just managing to raise one hand to wave goodbye as her mother swept out. Did she have to remind me? A flock of butterflies had begun to flutter in her stomach…

  ***

  The re-enactment of the First Empress’s meeting with the Tide Dragons traditionally took place in the monastery hall before the celebrants processed to the temple and then the seashore.

  Hiding behind the wide blue-painted screen that represented the ocean, Ayaka dared to peep out to see if everyone had taken their seats. The hall was decorated with flowers from the dunes and the imperial guards had even attached cockleshells to their black hats. The emperor was already seated on his dais with Prince Hotaru at his side; behind him sat Empress Akashi with the little crown prince beside her, and behind them Ayaka spotted the Ministers of the Left and the Right. All the courtiers were wearing the most exquisite shades of white, blue, and sea-green, their many robes subtly layered to display the rich silks and brocades.