Dragon Sword and Wind Child

by Noriko Ogiwara

  Chihaya stared at her as though she were talking about someone else, then finally remarked, “So Saya gets angry, too, just like my sister.”

  “And who wouldn’t be angry!” Saya snapped. “How can you treat your own body so carelessly? No wonder you can’t understand what it was like for that poor stag. Doesn’t it even bother you that you were cut up so badly when you weren’t in your body?”

  Chihaya looked at the numerous gashes upon his arms. “Oh. I’ll fix them.”

  “Well, you can’t fix the stag. It may even die because of that wound,” Saya said, holding back angry tears. She could not forget the trusting gaze of the stag when it had come to her. Chihaya had been twice as attractive then as now, she thought.

  “All right, all right, from now on, I’ll think carefully before I dream. Or I’ll ask you first.”

  “I don’t want you to dream ever again,” Saya said. “You’re not in the shrine anymore. There’s no one to bind you or keep you hidden away, so there’s no need to leave your body in the care of a wild creature while you go out to play. You should be ashamed of yourself. You should be more responsible. Surely you realized what a dangerous game you were playing when you were hit by that arrow.”

  “Mmm,” Chihaya nodded, but he did not appear repentant. “That was the first time I’ve become such a large creature. It’s difficult to control something so big and strong. When it’s faced with danger, it’s impossible to stop it. But when it runs, it’s wonderful! Simply wonderful! It springs from a rock and the next instant knows exactly where to land—not by sight but by feel—through its hooves. When it runs at full speed, the whole world changes. The ground seems transitory, the wind thickens, and they both become like water . . .”

  Saya was just thinking how unusual it was for Chihaya to speak at such length when, before she knew it, he had lain down on his side, still talking, and fallen fast asleep the instant his head hit the woven rush mat with a soft thud. He was out quicker than a gambler loses a fortune. She was so taken aback by the suddenness of it that she lost the will to be angry and instead sat gazing at his face.

  It was the face of a sleeping child—untroubled, eyelashes casting long shadows, lips slightly parted. He looked so innocent.

  “My Lady,” Natsume said quietly from behind her.

  “Will you treat his wounds?” Saya said. She was surprised to find herself speaking in such a gentle tone. “Carefully, though, so as not to wake him.”

  “I brought herbs and hot water for just that purpose,” Natsume replied. She dipped a cloth in the basin of hot water and began to wipe the blood and dirt from his wounds. But a moment later she uttered a stifled cry.

  “How could this be?”

  Saya looked over, too, and could not believe her eyes. For beneath the crust of blood that Natsume had washed away, the skin was smooth and clear. There was not even a pink scar where it had healed. It might never have been cut.

  THE NIGHT was far advanced when an unfamiliar girl came to Saya’s room. She bowed and said, “The lords are meeting in Lady Iwa’s inner chamber. They request the presence of Your Ladyship and Chihaya.”

  Realizing that she must be one of Lady Iwa’s servants, Saya said, “Chihaya is already asleep. Must he go, too?”

  “Two places have been prepared. They are expecting both of you,” the girl replied politely but uncompromisingly. So Saya shook Chihaya awake and led him, yawning nonstop, after the girl.

  The inner chamber referred not to a room in the front of the hall but to one which had been carved into the cliff. There could be countless such rooms hidden away in this hall. Saya pondered the strangeness of the building. She did not know whether existing caves had been expanded or whether the rooms had been dug into the rock, but in either case, they must have been the product of intense labor. The walls of the corridor carved in the rock were smooth and unmarred, and not one of the supporting columns or ceiling beams, which were set in a complex pattern, could have been easily executed. The stronghold, lit by the faint yellow glow of tallow candles, was pleasantly cool. No doubt in winter it would be warm. It was perhaps more magnificent than an ordinary palace.

  At last Saya saw a light glowing through a silk curtain at the end of a passageway, and they arrived at Lady Iwa’s room. Furs and silk wall hangings draped the quarried rock walls, and the floor was covered in thick woven fabric. Although the atmosphere was rather solemn, the room was spacious enough that it did not seem oppressive. It had a faint but pleasant smell. Or it may have been the fragrance of the unusually large candle that stood in the center of the room, casting wavering shadows in four directions. Each person sat on a woven rush cushion on the floor. Lady Iwa was at the far end of the room, with Lord Akitsu and Lord Shinado to her right and Lord Ibuki and Torihiko to her left. The sight of Torihiko in crow’s form claiming a seat all to himself was so absurd that Saya relaxed a little. The two nearest seats completing the circle were vacant. Food and sake had been set before each place, but no one except Lord Ibuki appeared to have touched them. When Chihaya and Saya had taken their seats, Lady Iwa spoke in a quiet voice. Even a whisper could be heard clearly, and Saya suddenly realized that no room could be more confidential.

  “The Sword and the Priestess of the Sword have both returned to us, completing our strength. Now is the time to rally our forces, which for decades have been outmatched by the enemy. All the omens are in our favor. My lords, you must exert yourselves. The will of the Goddess is with us.”

  The men all bowed respectfully. Saya was surprised at the amount of authority wielded by an old woman so small that Saya could have picked her up with one hand. Although she spoke in her familiar rasping voice, it almost seemed as if the Goddess herself were speaking.

  Lady Iwa paused briefly and then continued. “However, there is something I must tell you. For countless generations the people of Darkness have fought the immortal Children of Light and their followers. Power has swung back and forth like a pendulum between the forces of Light and Darkness, now attacking, now retreating. But now, something different has occurred. We have found the one who was formerly known only in prophecy: he who has the power to wield the Dragon Sword. Whether this means good fortune or not, I don’t know. It is unprecedented, and as such transcends fortune-telling. Since ancient times, the Water Maiden has been one of our people, invested with the power to still the Dragon Sword and lull its evil to sleep. At the same time, however, legend tells us that only one being is capable of grasping the Sword and wielding it. That being is called the Wind Child. And having escaped from the Palace of Light, he is here, before our very eyes.”

  Every face in the room turned to look in astonishment at Chihaya.

  4

  AS THE LORDS STARED at Chihaya, their bewilderment deepened. Saya was no exception. Nothing could be harder to imagine than Chihaya wielding a sword. He was so sleepy that he appeared even more stunned than usual under their collective gaze, staring blankly off into space oblivious to Lady Iwa’s words.

  Lord Akitsu said in a choked voice, “Ah, are you absolutely sure, my lady, that—er—he’s the Wind Child?”

  “Chihaya turned the Sword into the Dragon. And you all know what a bitter blow it dealt the Palace of Light. Is there anyone else who can call forth the Dragon and live?”

  “He’s an immortal, one of the Children of Light. He cannot die,” Lord Shinado said coldly.

  “Not in this case. The Dragon has the power to destroy even the Children of Light. Surely you can see that if you think about why Teruhi and Tsukishiro never wielded the Sword themselves.”

  Lord Ibuki’s eyes had never left Chihaya, but it was clear from his expression that he still regarded him as a lunatic.

  “To tell Chihaya to wield the Sword would be the same as telling me to,” Torihiko said. He spread his wings. “In other words, impossible.”

  “Even supposing that he really is the Wind Child,” Lord Shinado said vehemently to Lady Iwa, “it won’t change the fact that he’s a Prince
of Light, and a Prince of Light serves the God of Light. We would be hatching a snake in our bosom.”

  “That’s not necessarily true,” Lady Iwa replied, lowering her wrinkled eyelids and regarding him through half-closed eyes. “Princess Teruhi must have foreseen his potential long ago. She imprisoned him and concealed his existence. It can only have been because some harm would befall them if he awoke. Even after they had seized the Sword, they did not free him or let him wield the Sword; instead they made him play the role of the Water Maiden. Princess Teruhi succeeded not in stilling the Sword but in stilling Chihaya, who had the ability to summon its power.”

  Lord Akitsu had been lost in thought, a grim expression on his face. He asked abruptly, “But what will happen should Chihaya side with us and wield the Dragon Sword?”

  “I have no idea. It will surely bring great peril.” Lady Iwa pressed the palms of her thin hands together. “But—and this is just a premonition— I can’t help feeling that the appearance of the Wind Child now is a sign that this long struggle is coming to an end. I don’t know what the outcome will be, but I believe we should take bold and drastic measures.” She sighed disconsolately and looked at Lord Akitsu. “Right?”

  The one-eyed lord groaned but did not utter another word.

  Lord Ibuki’s gruff voice suddenly broke the silence. “If you insist that this little wisp of a boy must wield the Sword, then I’m willing to teach him how. It may not help, but surely we’d be foolish to decide without training him.”

  After the previous gloomy exchange, his words were so refreshingly positive they sounded totally out of place. The wrinkles on Lady Iwa’s face, however, relaxed in a smile. “You’re right, Lord Ibuki. While Chihaya has the power to use the Dragon Sword, he’s still young and untried. In his lack of training, he’s much like the Water Maiden here.”

  Saya hunched her shoulders at this sudden attention. Lady Iwa gazed straight at her. “Saya, you’re the most recent of the Water Maidens who have cared for the Sword. Are you willing to give it to the Wind Child?”

  Saya thought of the Sword lying in her room, inlaid with red stones and sheathed in the scabbard that Lady Iwa had made. But no matter how she searched her heart, she could find no feeling of attachment to it appropriate for a priestess. It was a miserable, troublesome, accursed burden, and nothing would give her more relief than to have someone else shoulder it in her stead.

  “Yes,” she started to reply but then stopped. She remembered the thick black smoke rising over the capital on the day the palace fell, and how she had so easily fainted. Was forcing the Sword onto Chihaya really the answer?

  After searching for words, she said, “If Chihaya shows a little more reliability, I’ll give it to him.”

  “That’ll do.” Lady Iwa nodded emphatically. “That’ll do. Chihaya still sleeps. He hasn’t yet roused from Princess Teruhi’s spell. He needs your help. Having spent too long alone, he doesn’t know how to relate to others. Right now you’re the only person he can see properly.”

  Saya muttered, “And I don’t think he even sees me properly.”

  “And likewise you’re the only person at this time who can understand him. You should stay with him and support him, make decisions and learn together. For neither of you has as yet developed your full potential.”

  After shaking the dozing Chihaya awake, Saya excused herself and led him away. While she walked back to her room, she could not escape the feeling that Lady Iwa had talked her into shouldering an even greater burden than before.

  ALTHOUGH the days were as hot as ever, the tune of the cicadas was starting to change. And when she raised her face to a stray breeze that coolly caressed the nape of her neck under the blazing sun, Saya occasionally caught sight of red dragonflies darting above. But most of all, it was the dew at dusk and dawn that spoke to the growing things of autumn. Summer was beginning to give way to fall. Saya had become friendly with the sentries and sometimes visited the top of the cliff. Seeing the reddish purple bush clover blooming on the mountaintop made her think of her home lying far beyond the mountain villages at the eastern edge of the sky. The rice in the fields of Hashiba would soon be ripening to gold, heralding the busy season in which the harvest and the coming of the typhoons were the main concerns. The gayest village festival of the year awaited them once the whole family had finished bringing in the harvest.

  But here in the land of the people of Darkness, the situation was completely different. Although activity increased as autumn approached, the harvest consisted of stones and wood for arrow shafts. There was a forge near Lord Akitsu’s hall, and for the first time in her life Saya saw a foot bellows in action. Black iron ore brought from the bowels of the mountain turned red-hot in the well-stoked furnace, and the heat was intensified by wind from the bellows. The ore, now glowing brightly, began to bend like a snake; then it was hardened, reheated, and beaten. The tremendous heat of the thick enveloping clouds of steam generated when the iron was beaten was enough to intimidate Saya and keep her at a distance. The men beating the iron on the anvils seemed possessed by demons, their shoulder blades, tanned by the summer sun, rising and falling with their mighty efforts, their bodies drenched in sweat. And the results of all this labor were arrowheads and spear points, weapons of destruction; unlike the golden ears of grain that Saya had once harvested as she sang, these products led to death. Yet at the same time they spoke of a rugged heroism that inspired a strange excitement. Even the jarring noise of the pounding hammers seemed to fill those who heard it with eagerness.

  The war begins, Saya thought. Despite her lack of experience, that much she understood. The mountain of arms that they were preparing was not for something so insignificant as hunting wildfowl or deer. The soldiers grew animated, joking frequently. Saya enjoyed their banter, but uneasiness squirmed in the bottom of her heart like the premonition of an approaching typhoon.

  Almost every night the lords or their advisers gathered in Lady Iwa’s room within the stone hall. Day and night, scouts returned to report to Lord Akitsu.

  “If we travel north, we can reach the Asakura pastures in two days’ time. The pastures supply war-horses directly to the Palace of Light. Let’s take those pastures first,” Lord Akitsu announced one evening to all those assembled, after various suggestions had been made.

  “Us? Take the pastures?”

  Surprise spread across the faces of those assembled. The one-eyed lord continued. “We have mastered the art of taking advantage of the terrain to ambush our enemy on foot, but in this war it is crucial to think ahead. We’ll need cavalry. The time will come when we must confront the forces of Light face-to-face on the plains.”

  “Are you saying that we have an even chance in a direct confrontation with the army of Light?” one of the older commanders asked in surprise.

  “Exactly. From now on, we must ride the winds of fortune. Isn’t that right, Lady Iwa?”

  She nodded expressionlessly. “Lady Iwa predicts that this campaign will be a crucial battle leading to a final, decisive confrontation between the forces of Darkness and Light. This is our last and greatest opportunity to reverse our fortune and rescue Toyoashihara from the hands of the immortals.”

  There was a stunned silence when he finished speaking, followed immediately by a buzz of excited whispering.

  “Of course! We have the Dragon Sword. This time we might even have the power to overthrow the immortals themselves.”

  Lord Ibuki scratched his nose slowly and muttered doubtfully, “The pastures? I wonder if they’ll have a horse large enough for me.”

  Lord Shinado, who was sitting to the right of Lord Akitsu, said confidentially, as if unable to contain himself, “You’re surely thinking of Chihaya. He could never keep up with us in battle if we went on foot.”

  Lord Akitsu smiled faintly as he looked at him. “Actually, I was thinking of Saya. But I suppose it’s really the same thing.”

  “You intend to take the Princess to war?” Lord Shinado demanded, his
expression hardening.

  “We have no choice,” Lord Akitsu replied. “How else can we keep the Wind Child at our side?”

  IN A SUNLIT GARDEN bordered by a fence, Lord Ibuki was bellowing in his distinctive gruff voice despite the early morning hour. Brandishing a wooden sword, he moved with an agility that belied his hulking frame. “Come on now! Move! Look! Here’s my heart, here’s my stomach. You can’t even touch me when I’m wide open.”

  Chihaya lunged at him halfheartedly, but naturally every blow was repulsed. Lord Ibuki’s great belly loomed directly before his eyes, but it was not easily reached.

  “I’ve never seen such a clumsy thrust, you numbskull!”

  Chihaya narrowly dodged a blow to his head. Although Lord Ibuki had not put his full force behind it, the blow would have resulted in more than a lump if it had connected.

  “But this stick is so heavy.”

  “What are you going to do if even a wooden sword is too heavy? How can you call yourself a man?”

  Torihiko, who was perched on Saya’s shoulder watching them practice said, “It looks like Chihaya’s just fooling around.”

  “Well, it can’t be helped. After all, he doesn’t understand why he needs to do this,” Saya replied. In fact, Chihaya’s progress was so slow she felt that even she could do better. Though he had received blows hard enough to bruise as chastisement, he never once fought back in earnest. Although she did not particularly want him to learn sword fighting, the thought of sending him to war like this worried her. She had begun practicing in private with a wooden sword of her own so that she could help him should the need arise.

  “You’re working hard, Lord Ibuki,” someone called out from the cool shade of a tree. Looking around, Saya saw Lord Shinado leaning his spare frame against the tree trunk. His light blue jacket was open over his bare chest.