by Sarah Ash
“Probably one of the Kites,” Honou said, pulling a sour face.
“This one is different,” Yukiko said. “Be careful.” Her guardian form wavered, then vanished as she slipped back inside the statue.
Careful? “What do you mean, Yukiko?” Sakami whispered.
“So this is the new shrine?” The man’s voice was quiet but it still made Sakami jump. Turning around, she saw Yūgiri Hisui on the edge of the clearing, his milk-white hair shaded by a wide straw hat. “You’ve been working hard, Miko-san.”
“Hisui-sensei.” She greeted him formally as well, aware that Yukiko was observing them from her plinth.
He came toward her, stopping to bow politely to the Guardian Foxes before placing a little offering in front of Yukiko’s plinth. Sakami hid a smile, delighted that he was showing respect to the local kami, but still wondering what Yukiko’s warning meant.
Hisui-sensei healed Shun’s wound; surely there’s nothing to fear from him?
“What brings you all the way up here today, Shaman?” Sakami asked.
“One of our workers was injured last night,” he said. “He’s not well enough to make it back down the mountain, so I’ve come up to see what I can do.”
“Serves him right,” muttered Honou.
“Please forgive my cousin’s rudeness,” Sakami said, glaring at Honou. “Shall I show you the short cut from here, Sensei?”
“Thank you,” the shaman said, taking off his hat to fan his face. “It’s very humid today. Good weather for the rice harvest but not so comfortable for climbing mountain paths.”
They set off with Honou trailing behind, still muttering under his breath.
“So this is the shrine that marks the place where Inari first defeated Kurika, the fire dragon?” Hisui-sensei said as they walked.
Surprised, Sakami stole a swift glance at him. How does he know about Kurika? But the wide hat concealed his face from her so she could not read his expression.
“Why do you ask, Sensei?”
“Doesn’t the legend say that Inari fought Kurika here and defeated him? Otherwise, you’d be tending a shrine to a volcano kami and there’d be a fierce black dragon statue at the entrance instead of those sleek white foxes standing guard.”
Was he joking? She stole another glance just as he turned toward her and she caught the hint of a little smile. He looks so different when he smiles. She felt herself blush like a young girl and, embarrassed, glanced hastily away.
The sultry air was heavy, rich with the scent of the grasses and mountain herbs they crushed underfoot as they climbed and the overhanging trees exuded sharp odors of pine and cedar sap that made Sakami’s nostrils tingle. Insects clustered under the branches and her sensitive hearing picked up the tiny whirrings of their translucent wings.
At last they reached the looming outcrop of rock that concealed the entrance to the hot springs and she turned around to tell Yūgiri. But as she did so, she heard a gasp of indrawn breath and saw him doubled up, as though in pain.
“What’s wrong, Sensei?” She hurried back to him. He raised his head, gazing up at her in mute appeal and she saw – for a moment – someone else staring at her from his red-stained eyes.
She let out a little cry of shock. “Who is that?”
Yūgiri dropped to his knees, clutching at his eye sockets as drops of blood trickled between his clenched fingers and dripped on to the grass.
Chapter 19
Trees. Grass and stones underfoot. Bushes. . .
Hotaru was about to abandon his latest attempt to infiltrate Yūgiri’s mind when he spotted that someone was walking ahead of the shaman on the steep path.
Who can that be?
The indistinct figure turned around and Hotaru saw a girl dressed in a miko’s distinctive costume of white and red. She held out her hand to the shaman as he drew near, smiling at him, her mouth shaping words he could not quite make out. . .
And then her eyes widened in surprise and shock. Hotaru drew back, feeling her gaze connecting with his.
“What’s the matter?” breathed Uguisu.
“A shrine maiden. But no ordinary miko. She saw me. She looked directly at me.” He was shaken, in spite of himself, at this unexpected reversal.
Hotaru hastily wiped the mirror clean with a silken cloth, severing the connection.
“What is Yūgiri Hisui doing with that miko?” He carefully replaced the precious scrying mirror in its silk-lined casket. “Are they restoring the Inari shrine that Kurika destroyed? Or are they plotting together?”
***
Sakami knelt beside Yūgiri and put her hand on his shoulder in mute sympathy.
“I’m all right,” he said, although it was obvious to her that he was not.
“Is it over?”
“I think so. . . For now.”
“Was that the onmyōji who did this to you?”
“You saw him?” Yūgiri wiped the blood from his eyes with his handkerchief.
“Does that mean he could see me too?” The idea did not please her at all.
“He’s using me to track down Lord Masao.” His voice, though low, was raw with desperation. “And it’s so long now since we last met. Sometimes I hear him calling my name at night – but I daren’t answer, knowing that cursed onmyōji is watching all the time.”
Sakami wanted to say something to make him feel better but all she could do was continue to pat his shoulder. “If only we could ask Lady Inari to break the spell. . .”
“What spell?” Honou appeared, licking his lips as usual; from the sweet smell of his breath and juice-stained mouth, she guessed he had stopped off to eat some berries. “And what’s the matter with him? I thought he was supposed to be the healer but he doesn’t look so good himself.”
“Honou, do you ever stop to think before you open your mouth?” Sakami rounded on him. “You can be so insensitive.”
Instead of answering back, Honou pulled one of his helpless puppy faces, all wide eyes and pathetically trembling lower lip.
“Make yourself useful,” she said, taking the blood-stained handkerchief from Yūgiri, “and go and rinse this in the stream.”
Honou bounded off and reappeared soon afterward with the kerchief clean and dripping with cold stream water. Sakami gently wiped Yūgiri’s eyes and hands until all traces of blood had gone.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice firmer.
“You healed Shun,” she said, beaming at him. “I owe you a great deal for that.”
“I should get going.” Yūgiri stood up, a little unsteadily, and bowed his thanks.
“This way, then.” Sakami set off again, shooting anxious glances at him from time to time as she led him along the overgrown secret way to the springs. The shaman pulled his wide-brimmed hat down to shield his damaged eyes from the brightness of the dappled sunlight but she could not help wincing as she imagined the pain he must be silently enduring.
And then she remembered one thing he had said and stopped once more.
“Wait. You said the onmyōji is using you to track Lord Masao. That means he wants to find Lord Kaito too. Why?”
“To bind them. To trap their souls in the Tide Jewels so that they can never return to their lives on land.
“To trap their souls? But Kai destroyed the Tide Jewels.”
“The onmyōji plans to create new ones. To renew the bond between the imperial family and the Lords of the Sea.”
“No,” she said, not wanting to think what that would mean for Kai. “We have to stop him. We have to save Kai – and Lord Masao.” And then she clapped her hands over her mouth. “He’s not still watching, is he?”
“Not as far as I’m aware.”
But she did not miss the little shudder that passed through him as he raised one hand to protect his eyes from the strong sunlight. Can I trust him? She sidled closer.
“Lord Kaito and Lord Masao have a plan,” she said softly. “They’ve asked us to collect the scattered fragments of Inari’s sacred sword.
Then they’re going to reforge it and seal Kurika here again.”
“And have you found any of the fragments?”
Sakami shook her head. “Not yet. And we’ve gone over the ground around the shrine several times.”
“Perhaps you’re not searching in the right place.”
“Eh?” She looked up. “What do you mean?”
“The legend tells that Kurika was imprisoned inside the mountain. So when the onmyōji destroyed the sacred sword that held him pinned to the rock, the fragments must have been scattered inside the cavern, not outside.”
“Inside,” she repeated. “Of course. Why didn’t we think of that?” And then she realized the implications of what he had said. “But Lord Naoki’s men are working in the cave.”
“Perhaps they’ve already found what you’re looking for.”
The implications of his words sent a chill through her in spite of the muggy heat.
And if they’ve found them, what will I have to do to get them back?
***
The Red Kite workers had made the injured miner as comfortable as they could, placing him on an improvised bed of sacks and dried grass inside the cavern entrance, out of the strong sun and the steamy vapors drifting off the bubbling springs.
Sakami followed Yūgiri, glad to feel the dank cool of the dark cave after the oppressive heat outside. If I stay close to him, the men won’t trouble me; they’ll assume I’ve come to help.
She only caught a glimpse of the injured man but one look told her that he was suffering; she recognized the same pinched, drawn look she had seen on Shun’s face before the shaman had healed the wound in his shoulder. She heard Yūgiri speaking in soft, reassuring tones to the miner, heard the man suck in his breath with a sharp hiss as the shaman gently pressed on the affected limb. The others crowded around but Yūgiri glanced up at them, saying, “I need to work alone” and they obediently withdrew.
“What about the miko?” The foreman demanded, gazing suspiciously at Sakami. She shot a pleading glance at Yūgiri.
“She’s come to offer a prayer to the local kami and purify the cavern.”
Sakami bowed but not before she had heard the foreman say to the others, “I told you; this place is cursed. The sooner our work here’s finished, the better.”
Thank you, Shaman, for giving me the chance to look around.
She took her purification wand which she had tucked in her belt and slowly went around the interior of the cavern, waving the white zig-zag paper streamers and murmuring the words of a sutra.
At first it was too dark to see clearly but as Yūgiri bent over his patient, a soft, pale glow began to emanate from beneath his outstretched hands.
Just the same as when he healed Shun.
The gentle radiance illumined the walls of the cavern, highlighting streaks in the rocks, green mosses hanging near the entrance like a ragged curtain, glistening patches of moisture glazing the rough stone beneath. The uneven ground was damply grimy, and everything was covered in a fine granular dust. From the sour taste tainting the air, Sakami realized that the debris underfoot probably contained traces of the foul-smelling bat droppings that the miners had been harvesting.
A tumble of rocks lay to her left, the recent fall that had so nearly crushed the workers.
What do fragments of a broken sword look like?
As she moved further away from the entrance into the darkness, the air grew colder and her skin began to prickle with goosebumps.
I can sense traces of something malevolent here. Is this the place? And the deeper she penetrated into the darkness, the stronger the feeling became, a disturbing sensation of nausea that rose from her griping stomach until it permeated her whole body.
I have to get out – and fast.
Her skin crawling, she turned and began to hurry back toward the faint promise of daylight – and her foot struck against something sharp.
“Ow.” She bent down to rub her sore toes and her fingertips encountered a small jagged object coated in dust.
Could it be. . . ? She scooped the object up and hurried on, hopping awkwardly until the pain subsided.
Yūgiri was sitting back on his heels beside the injured miner, silhouetted against the bright daylight pouring in from the cave entrance. His head was drooping but he turned around as she emerged, giving her a questioning look.
“No wonder the miners say it’s cursed,” she said, taking in a deep breath of clean air.
“Yes; there are lingering traces of dark onmyōdo.” He looked drained, blue shadows darkening the fine skin beneath his eyes. “And further back. . .”
Sakami pulled a face. “It feels foul in there. I couldn’t stay a moment longer, it made me sick to my stomach. But look at this.” She went to him and opened her hand to show him what she had found.
He touched the jagged fragment and his eyes widened.
“What is it?”
“Tamahagane,” he said quietly. “Steel specially forged by a master smith to make a sword blade. And there’s a hint of a pure and untainted spirit energy left in this.”
“So you think. . . ?” Have I found a fragment of Inari’s sacred sword at last?
He nodded and she felt her heart flutter with excitement as he handed it back to her.
A groaning sigh escaped from the injured miner and he moved his head a little.
“Easy there, Nobu.” Yūgiri gently laid one hand on the man’s sound shoulder. “How do you feel now?”
“A little easier, thank you, Sensei.”
“Nobu’s come round.” The foreman called out, beckoning the others who piled into the entrance of the cave.
“Will he be all right, Sensei?” one asked Yūgiri.
“His right arm is broken in two places,” Yūgiri said. “I’ve bound it securely so you can carry him down the mountain – but Teiko-san will make him a proper splint in the infirmary.”
The workman turned back to his fellow worker. “You’re honored, Nobu,” he said. “Lord Naoki sent you his personal healer.”
“Miko-san.” The foreman approached Sakami. “Did the purification work?”
Sakami thought for a moment.
There has to be some way I can take advantage of the situation.
Then, inspired, she said, “The caves are haunted by the angry ghost of a long-dead Black Crane samurai. Look. I found this piece of a broken katana.” She held out the fragment for the foreman to see and saw him take a step back, as if unwilling to touch the cursed object.
“So we’ve disturbed a grave.” He glanced around uneasily. “What should we do to pacify this spirit? Another rock fall – and we might not get out alive next time.”
“You know the old saying that a warrior’s soul is one with his sword? You need to find the pieces of his katana,” Sakami said, aware that Yūgiri had glanced up and was listening intently, “and once they’ve all been found, I’ll return and perform an exorcism ceremony.”
The foreman nodded slowly as though considering her offer.
“I’ll help you too, Miko-san,” said Yūgiri and she caught a glint in his pale eyes.
“The sooner, the better, then,” said the foreman with a laugh that sounded forced. “We don’t want any more rock falls.”
***
As they walked back down the secret path through the sultry heat of early evening, Yūgiri said softly, “That was a clever move, Miko-san, spinning the miners that tale of ghostly samurai. You truly are a crafty kitsune.”
Crafty. Sakami could not help smiling to herself. “Is that a compliment – or a criticism?” She darted a glance at him, but his face was concealed beneath his wide-brimmed hat. A hot breeze stirred the listless leaves overhead. “But even if the miners find all the fragments of the sacred sword for us, who’s going to reforge it?”
Yūgiri tipped back the brim of his hat to look at her. “The Red Kites’ armorer, Kinkiyo. Lord Masao knows him well.”
“And how are we going to get the pieces to Kinkiyo? Can y
ou ask Lord Masao to take them?”
Yūgiri shook his head. “You saw what happened this morning. You saw how powerful that onmyōji is. I can’t risk leading him to Lord Kai – or Lord Masao.”
She walked on in silence for a while, thinking about what he had said and the way his voice had gone very quiet as he pronounced Lord Masao’s name. I can sense that there’s bond between them, a bond as deep as the one which ties me to Kai. He must be hurting just as I am but he’s too much of a man to show how he feels.
“We’ll find a way,” she said, picking a long stem of grass and swishing it like a whip over the nodding grass heads. “We have to. Or they’ll be lost to us forever. We have to save them.”
***
“Yū? Yū, can you hear me?”
Yūgiri’s heart began to beat faster. That familiar voice was calling to him again from the depths of the sea and he could not deny its hypnotic power.
“Yū, I want to see you.”
Nor could he ignore the urgency that vibrated through every word, desperate with loneliness and longing.
“Why don’t you answer?”
That simple plea awakened the buried feelings he had tried to suppress, to hide from the intrusive gaze of the emperor.
I want to answer, Masao. I want to tell you that I haven’t forgotten you. But if I answer, Hotaru will know. And he’ll use me to get to you.
INTERLUDE
The tide’s on the turn.
Masao sensed Shiomitsu, the Flood Dragon, passing close him by again and he called out as he had for countless days and nights, “Kai? Kai are you awake yet?”
The scaly blue form snaked on through the water past him without once slowing or giving the slightest indication of having heard his voice.
And again the same aching sense of loneliness threatened to overwhelm him. While Kai had been awake he had felt less angry, less alone, able to share his frustrations and fury at the curse of the Sacrifice they were both forced to endure.
“How much longer are you going to stay asleep, damn it?”