“Hurry! Run! We must get away from here!”
The guards looked at her in consternation. “But it’s dangerous to move. Stray arrows are still flying. It’s all right. Just wait a little longer.”
Their soothing words, however, could not quell her panic.
“It’s no good. You must flee! Or something terrible will happen!” But she herself did not have the courage to turn her back on it, and in the end could only stand rooted to the spot, staring. Seeing it with her own eyes would in no way diminish her fear, but she could not bear the thought of being pursued by something unknown. At any moment it would materialize, ripping up the cedar trees in its path. And then, as though it could read her mind, it appeared with an appalling noise, smashing and rending as it came. She heard the men surrounding her gasp.
It had taken the form of a creature the size of a small hill. It had the body of a giant bear on the rampage, and when it stood on its hind legs its face reached the tops of the trees. Its crescent-moon-shaped claws were much longer than any bear’s, and a thick, hairless reptilian tail stretched out behind it, the scales gleaming in the starlight. Its face, wreathed in spines, was yet strangely human, a flat apelike visage hideous to look upon. The enormous monster came straight toward them, stamping its heavy feet and raking at the branches.
Gazing up at it, Saya could only gasp in horror. What her eyes beheld was not a thing of this world, and before it any human cry for mercy seemed meaningless.
For a long moment they stood frozen to the spot, and then Masaki, coming to his senses, yelled, “Stand fast! In the name of our lord, stand fast and protect the Princess.”
The soldiers, startled by his voice, fitted arrows to their bows or held their spears ready. But Saya knew too well the uselessness of their resistance.
“Run! Run now!”
Whose voice it was she did not know, but the resolute urgency of that cry resounded strangely. She heard it as though unrelated to herself, but then suddenly someone grabbed her arm and hauled her roughly away. As she opened her mouth to protest angrily at this treatment, she almost collided with the glossy flank of a jet-black horse. Right in front of her, snorting and prancing, was a fierce stallion with a streaming mane.
Before she knew it, Chihaya had pulled her up in front of him onto its bare back. Then, feeling the horse’s muscles moving rhythmically beneath her, she realized that they were flying across the dark meadow. The wind took her breath away and she buried her face in the horse’s mane with the absurd thought that he was more like a shooting star than the morning star.
The monster pursued them. This was the only reason Saya managed to ride bareback on the speeding stallion without tumbling to the ground. Whether it was after her or Chihaya she could not tell, but it had eyes only for them and seemed filled with a malicious desire to harm them. As she clung to the horse’s mane, in her mind, she was running on her own two legs. Flee! Flee! Flee for our lives!
But the creature was also fast. Its enormous form rushed toward them as though it were swimming through space. Rocks and trees were no more than level ground to its huge crushing feet. It came closer and closer even as she watched, and when the legs of the gasping stallion finally began to falter, it stretched out its long, curved claws almost daintily toward their backs.
The stallion gave a piercing scream and the threesome that had been melded together were scattered in different directions like seeds scattering from a pod. As the horse tumbled head over heels, Saya felt herself thrown through the air and hurled onto a grassy slope; then she rolled for what seemed like ages. But when she finally raised her head, she saw she had not been thrown very far at all. Chihaya was sitting up only a few paces from her. And the creature was but a stone’s throw away. Its nightmarish black form seemed about to engulf them.
Draw the Sword! Kill it before it kills us!
It was not a conscious thought, but she knew she must have wished it, for the shining Sword was unsheathed with such speed that she could not believe Chihaya had done it. Then it flew straight as an arrow toward the shadow towering like a mountain above them. Saya gazed up and saw the blade grow longer, twisting and thickening, engraving the image of the Dragon upon her mind. Its eyes gleamed bright crimson against the creature’s murky blackness. Then the keenly honed blade moved like flashing light, slashing the monster’s head and shoulders to tatters, until suddenly the creature lost its form and melted thickly into darkness. The Sword flashed once again, rising into the air, and raced toward Chihaya as if seeking its next target. Saya shut her eyes.
When she opened them again and looked fearfully about her, however, she saw that the night had once again returned to darkness, and Chihaya stood alone, trying to sheath the Sword with awkward movements. Drenched with sweat as though she had been doused with water and shaking in every limb, Saya was only now aware of how terrified she had been. Unable to stand, she began to crawl toward Chihaya, but he checked her in an unexpectedly low voice.
“You’d better not come too close.”
Only then did she notice the bloody wounds that ran from his shoulders down his back. The trail of the creature’s merciless claws was apparent even in the starlight, as though Chihaya’s flesh had been gouged with a sickle. Looking at Saya’s pale, frozen face, he said, “It’s nothing to worry about. Renewal will soon begin. The deeper the wound, the faster it begins.”
“Renewal? You mean the return to youth?”
“Yes. The wounds will disappear. It’s best to leave them alone.”
Chihaya spoke as though it were nothing. But Saya, witnessing immortality for the first time, felt as bewildered as if she had come into contact with yet another monster, although one less fearsome. So this was how the Children of Light defied the passage of time and maintained a flawless, youthful form. In this way they rejected the natural flow of life and turned their backs on the road that all others followed to the Goddess.
Masaki and the other guards, who had been frantically searching for them, raced up breathlessly. Asked if she was hurt, Saya shook her head and said, “No. I’m fine. I just got a few bruises . . .” Then, unable to bear it any longer, she broke down and began to sob.
Chihaya was in no condition to walk. He was placed, deathly pale, on a hastily prepared litter, but refused to allow anyone to touch his wounds. Walking quietly alongside the litter, Saya noticed that the black stallion, limping slightly, followed them hesitantly, like a dog worried about its master. But when he saw them enter the camp set up in the shade of the forest, he disappeared like the wind.
“DO YOU FEEL A BIT BETTER?” Lord Akitsu asked, sitting down beside her. Saya nodded. Even with the bright fire burning directly in front of her, she still felt a faint chill in her shoulders, but perhaps because she had been persuaded to drink the medicinal wine that she had at first left untouched, she felt warm inside and slightly light-headed.
“How’s Chihaya?” Lord Akitsu asked.
“I think—I think he’ll be all right. He’s sleeping like the dead right now.”
“I had no idea that something like this would happen,” Lord Akitsu muttered as if to himself.
“What on earth was it? I’ve never seen anything so horrible in my life!”
Hearing the terror that still lurked in her voice, Lord Akitsu paused a moment before replying. “I can’t say for certain, but I think that what you saw was one of the gods of the earth.”
Saya stared at him in shocked surprise. “That monster was an earth god?”
“Our task is to recover those gods that have been lost. The Children of Light captured the earth gods and sealed them in mirrors, then further confined them within the shrines they built. But if the mirror is broken and they are released, a strong god may even return. Many times we have freed the gods of the earth in this way, but never before has one of them borne us any ill will.”
He fell silent and the two of them stared at the flickering flames for some time. Finally, Saya spoke. “Are you saying that this happened
because Chihaya is one of the Children of Light?”
“I can’t think of any other reason,” he said bitterly. “And to make matters worse, Chihaya used the Dragon Sword to kill the god we strove so hard to free. He has obliterated it more completely than his brother or sister ever could.”
Saya turned to face him. “But we had no choice. Who wouldn’t protect themselves if they were attacked by such a creature?”
Ignoring her question, he murmured, “I wonder if Lady Iwa foresaw this. It looks like things aren’t going to go as smoothly as she thought. How on earth are we to make the Wind Child our ally if this kind of thing happens?”
chapter
five
SHADOW
Should frost chance to fall upon the field
Where the traveler seeks haven,
Shelter him, my son, beneath thy wings,
O cranes that cross the heavens.
— The mother of a member of a Japanese
envoy to China during the Tung dynasty
Shadow
AFTER HE WAS INJURED, Chihaya slept for one full day, but by the next morning he seemed even better than before and, saddling Morning Star, rode off. From the day Lord Akitsu’s men had captured the Asakura pastures, the two were as inseparable as lovers. The wild-spirited Morning Star would allow no one but Chihaya to approach him, while Chihaya never even glanced at another horse. The extraordinary pair, so conspicuously different from the rest, showed no interest in anyone else’s affairs, creating an exclusive world of their own. At night they slept side by side, and as soon as the sun rose they set off for a morning gallop to drive the sleep from their eyes.
The weather became much cooler. Although the midday sun was warm enough to raise a slight sweat, sundown, which set the sky ablaze with color, brought with it a cool night. The gold-tinged clouds and red sky at sunset seemed to beckon to the trees on the mountains, inviting them to follow suit. And the trees, eager to comply, began to don their autumn colors. When the curtain of night fell, myriad insects set their wings humming in the meadows. Faintly but earnestly they sang of summer followed by winter. It would have been well for all to listen to their song, since in their own fashion they proclaimed that light is followed by darkness, and life, by death.
The army of Darkness remained in Asakura for a while to secure their hold on the pastures. Although this gave the soldiers a brief respite, Natsume flew about as she helped prepare food for the troops. Saya followed along after her, trying to help despite Natsume’s protests. She was, in fact, much more comfortable being busy. It felt better to keep her hands occupied so that she would not have time to think.
Wherever she looked, she was confronted by unharvested crops trampled in the fields; by the blackened shells of burned storehouses, their winter stores reduced to ashes overnight; by grieving women laying their husbands to rest or trudging along with faltering steps, carrying their few remaining possessions on their shoulders and leading their children away by the hand. Although Lord Akitsu did his best to deal justly with those who lived within the occupied territory, hundreds of soldiers were now devouring the local food supply.
ONE AFTERNOON, when they had some rare free time, Natsume said, “My lady, be so good as to behave like a lady sometimes instead of following me about like a serving woman.”
“Oh, I see. You want to meet with Masaki,” Saya replied. “Off you go, then. I’ll just wait here by myself until nightfall.”
“What am I to do with you!” Natsume laughed, shrugging her shoulders, but then she added, “My lady, I know you truly care about everyone here. But it’s all right to take it easy sometimes, too, like the other one. After all, I’m just a servant.”
Saya was surprised to be compared to Chihaya. “What? You mean you want me to copy him and be excluded by everyone? No thank you.”
Natsume burst out laughing. “I just meant it as an example. You know, the way he keeps aloof, as if he doesn’t even see us.”
“He’s a bit dense, that’s all.”
“But he’s very handsome,” Natsume said with admiration. “And recently he’s become even more attractive—as if a light shines within him.”
Saya cast her an anxious glance. But there was no hidden meaning in her words; she was not implying that Chihaya was a Prince of Light. She could not know. It was true that Chihaya had changed since he was wounded. His face seemed more radiant than before, and Saya caught him smiling more often. However, there was still something strange about him that made him seem unapproachable. Lord Akitsu was not the only one who puzzled over how to treat him.
“I’ll have to tell that to Masaki,” Saya teased, but Natsume remained unperturbed.
“He wouldn’t be jealous, not of someone like that who’s in a class by himself.”
After Natsume had gone, Saya leaned against the fence at the edge of the pasture and rested her chin in her hands. The gently rolling meadows spread out before her, stirred by the breeze. Far in the distance, wild grasses waved their feathered tips, undulating like silver waves. And there she caught a glimpse of Chihaya, about whom they had just been talking, galloping across the meadow on Morning Star. Man and horse were fused together, racing with extraordinary speed. They seemed to have become one with each other. Although Saya suspected that such a bond could only be the result of horse and man changing places frequently, they had caused no harm, so she let them be.
Suddenly she sighed. What am I doing here? she thought. She had never imagined that she would still be asking herself this question once she had returned to her people, to her roots. But finding herself swept up in the war, she was forced to think about it. She had come to the battlefront, borne along by the tide, but she still could not understand why. Surrounded by people who felt a burning sense of mission, people who had staked everything on the struggle, she continued, even now, to wonder what it was all for. She had been so confident when she had faced Prince Tsukishiro at the West Gate of the Palace of Light and insisted that she must return to her own people, but now she found her conviction wavering.
I made him my enemy so that now I must fight against him. What a terrible blow I dealt him by luring Chihaya, his own brother, over to the side of Darkness.
She kept remembering how her mother had lectured her about not thinking ahead. Yatame had scolded her thus for climbing trees, for sliding down steep slopes.
It’s true. I never think ahead.
She looked up, startled by the sound of thundering hoofbeats. Morning Star was heading straight for her. Seeing the great stallion bearing down upon her at full speed, his dark flank glistening with sweat, she unconsciously stepped back from the fence, but Chihaya pulled on the reins, easily gentling the prancing horse, and jumped from his back. He looked over the fence at her and said, “The meadow over there is covered with wild roses in full bloom. Do you like flowers, Saya?”
She responded in a small voice, “What goes on in that mind of yours every day?”
But Chihaya continued unperturbed. “Or would you rather see the akebia vines at the top of the hill? They’re loaded with ripe fruit. By tomorrow the birds will have eaten it all.”
“I like both,” Saya replied. “I can like more than one thing, you know.”
“Then let’s hurry.”
Saya frowned at his serious face. “Hurry?”
“Don’t you want to come?”
She stared at him in disbelief, then looked at the black stallion by his side and said faintly, “I can’t ride Morning Star. I’ve heard a mountain of stories from people who’ve been bitten or almost had their necks broken when they tried to ride him.”
“But you’ve already ridden him!” This, she realized, was true. “It’s all right. Morning Star likes you. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
Still she hesitated, aware that she did not really like this horse and afraid that he would sense it. Surely such a sensitive creature would be able to read her feelings. Contrary to her expectations, however, Morning Star seemed taken wi
th her. When the high-strung stallion flattered her by nuzzling her hand, she finally relented.
The black steed with the white star sped lightly across the fields with the two of them on his back. Unlike the full-speed gallop on the night they had fled desperately from death, it was an easy gait that brought a surge of joy to her heart. They flew along. The wind whipped at her hair until it fell loose and streamed behind her, and she finally laughed aloud. The meadows were bathed in sunlight, giving off a scent of dried grass, and buzzards wheeled lazily in the clear expanse of sky. Together they gathered the dark purple akebia fruit, ripened and splitting, at the edge of the hill and then set off for the field of wild roses. The meadow was a mass of flowers spreading as far as the eye could see, far surpassing her expectations. The hollow was buried in pale purple, and the slender fragile stems swayed in the breeze, creating such beauty that she felt a pang of sorrow. She knew then that she could not pluck even one stem, for such beauty could never be captured in a bouquet.
While she stood speechless in the midst of the flowers, Chihaya waited, silently stroking Morning Star’s mane. Many clouds had drifted peacefully across the sky when at last she spoke. “Why can’t we be like the trees or the flowers? Flowers bloom for no one in particular when their time comes, and trees bear fruit without ever knowing war. If only we could live like that, too.”
As if this was a new discovery, Chihaya asked, “Don’t you like war, Saya?”
She looked back at him in surprise. “Do you?”
Chihaya thought for a moment. “Well, I don’t know . . .”
Saya was about to scold him when he continued, “But if we hadn’t come here, I would never have met Morning Star.”
Dragon Sword and Wind Child Page 19