Dragon Sword and Wind Child

by Noriko Ogiwara

  Fresh mountain water poured out of a rock, forming a deep, brimming pool from which a narrow stream flowed. Lord Akitsu had chosen this spot as their temporary base partly because of this spring. The rocks that formed its banks were fringed with ferns, and above her head a tall, slender katsura tree raised its branches like a guardian spirit. Exhausted, Saya collapsed upon a rock. She thought half-angrily, That heartless wretch! Making an invalid walk all this way in search of him, when really he should have come to see me while I was sick.

  Lord Shinado claimed that Chihaya had no compassion. Although she did not want to admit it, she thought gloomily that he might be right.

  She gazed at the clear water and suddenly felt thirsty. Leaning over the edge of the rock, she bent to scoop up the water in her hands. There she saw the katsura tree reflected in the pond as in a mirror. She began to laugh. After chuckling to herself for a moment, she looked up. “What on earth are you doing up there?”

  On a large branch, Chihaya sat like a nesting bird. He looked down at her, his eyes blinking like an owl’s. “How did you know?”

  “Because you’re reflected perfectly in the water. Come on down.” Although he rose slowly, he slid quickly down the trunk to stand beside her. Looking at her more closely, he said, “You look thinner.”

  “I wasn’t feeling well. But I’m all right now.” She broke off abruptly, realizing that he was still dressed in the ragged clothes that had been torn by the fangs of the wolves. “What have you been doing all this time?”

  “Sitting in the tree. I was thinking.”

  “The whole time?”

  “The whole time.”

  Saya stared at him in amazement. “What can you have been thinking about for so long?”

  Chihaya watched a leaf that he had shaken from the katsura tree riding like a small boat upon the water’s surface. “Mostly I thought about the place where Morning Star has gone. All living things in Toyoashihara go there. Yet I alone return. I always come back,” he said sullenly. “I thought about why I’m denied entrance when everyone else can go.”

  Saya was amused by his childish, petulant tone. “That’s like crying for the moon. What a thing to begrudge us!”

  “But what am I to do when, in the end, there’s nowhere for me to go?” he asked earnestly. “Why was I given this body?”

  After some hesitation, Saya replied, “I don’t know. I don’t even understand my own self. But surely the God of Light and the Goddess of Darkness know.”

  “My father in the heavens?” Chihaya whispered. He sat down, looking even more discouraged, and hugged his knees to his chest. “Saya, if you want to meet the Goddess of your people you can go, right? But I can’t go to my father. Not like my sister or my brother.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m different.”

  They looked at each other. Chihaya said quietly, “My sister used to say that my very existence would harm our divine father. Now I know what she meant.”

  Before Saya could speak, he drew the Dragon Sword from its scabbard. “Look at this. Then you’ll understand, too.”

  Saya hastily smothered a scream of surprise. The naked blade did not glow. The polished metal merely reflected the rays of the midday sun, and the stones on the hilt remained dark. Chihaya laid the blade gently on top of the rock.

  “Put it away quickly! It’s dangerous!” Saya begged him anxiously.

  “Would you like to pray for the Dragon to appear?”

  “Don’t be silly!” she said, her voice rising, but Chihaya shook his head, indicating that he had not spoken in jest.

  “Even if you prayed, it would make no difference. The Dragon wouldn’t come. It wouldn’t even raise its voice in a single roar.”

  Saya looked at the sword suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that the Dragon no longer resides in the sword.”

  When Saya raised her wide-eyed face to his, Chihaya pointed to his own breast. “The Dragon is here.”

  “Where?”

  “In me.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since that night.” He averted his eyes.

  “The night the wolves came?”

  “Yes. You probably didn’t notice, but that night the Dragon never appeared. I was the only one there. By the time I realized it, I had become one with the Dragon.”

  Saya caught her breath and whispered, “How could that happen?”

  “I don’t know.” Chihaya suddenly sounded uncertain. “But . . . I only know that I wanted to give the god that killed Morning Star a taste of his own medicine.”

  Saya did not know how to respond. As Priestess of the Sword, what should she say to him? She must choose her words very carefully. This new state of affairs might have grave consequences or it might not.

  While she could not undo what had already been done, the perspective she chose as Priestess and the way in which she pronounced judgment would change their future. In that sense, she had the power to turn bad luck into good, or good luck into bad. That much she knew. It was ironic, perhaps, but she had learned this at the Palace of Light.

  “So that means that the Dragon Sword can never again rage as it wills without your consent?” Saya asked.

  “Yes.” Chihaya nodded. “The Dragon is still in here. I can feel it constantly, like a nesting insect, a smoldering ember.”

  “Then you have captured the Dragon. You have sheathed it much more deeply and securely than before. That’s good. You’ve made progress.”

  Chihaya looked at her in surprise. “It’s good? To become the Dragon?”

  “If you never let it out again, yes; if you yourself become its scabbard. If you’re strong enough, you may even be able to keep it locked away forever,” she said with conviction. “You just need to become stronger.”

  “Do you think I can?” Chihaya regarded her doubtfully. “Don’t I frighten you, Saya? You used to shun the Dragon with such dread.” “You’re not the Dragon,” she assured him brightly. “You have eyes, a mouth, you can think and talk. Become greater than the Dragon, grasp it by the neck and don’t let go. I’m sure that you can do it. If you’re the one Lady Iwa called the Wind Child.” Chihaya picked up the Sword and sheathed it in its scabbard. “If you say so, Saya,” he said, smiling shyly. “Now I don’t have to think about it anymore.”

  She smiled back. “I was looking for you. There’s something I wanted to tell you. I, too, have done a lot of thinking since that night.”

  She broke off and looked at the tranquil scene around them. While she paused, Chihaya remained motionless, waiting for her to speak. Coming to her senses, Saya felt slightly embarrassed and shrugged her shoulders, saying, “It’s nothing important. It’s just that I’ve finally figured out what I must do. What I mean is this.” She pointed to the katsura tree. “You think that this tree is beautiful, too, right? Soon its leaves will turn a brilliant gold. And, of course, it will look spectacular, but in winter when it has shed its leaves, it will still be beautiful in its majesty. And in spring, its branches will be filled with budding leaves, as sweet as newborn babies. Or take the water in this spring, for example. The reason it’s so clear and pure is because fresh water is always pouring into it, giving it no time to stagnate. The beauty of Toyoashihara is found in this process of birth and death, always shifting and changing. No matter how loath we may be to accept the changes, we can’t put out a hand to stop them. For if we did, in that instant its beauty and purity would vanish.”

  Turning to face him, she continued. “You, the immortal Children of Light, have a different beauty—eternal, unchanging. But this beauty belongs in the heavens; it isn’t meant for Toyoashihara. I don’t want you to destroy Toyoashihara. I want you to understand that this land is beautiful just as it is. This is why my people are fighting. And that’s what I must do, too.”

  She spoke as though talking to herself and then caught and held Chihaya’s gaze. “You appreciate the beauty of Toyoashihara. I know, because you showed me the fl
owers. That’s why I want you to lend us your power to protect this land. I want you to come with us, to use the power you have over the Dragon for the sake of Toyoashihara.”

  Chihaya remained silent, gravely pondering her words. Then he replied simply, “If you say so, Saya.”

  3

  THE FORCES OF DARKNESS advanced inexorably, assembling at last at the mouth of the Nakase River. Across the river, only a stone’s throw away, lay Mahoroba, where the God of Light was said to have descended to the earth. So far, fortune had smiled on the army of Darkness, which now surpassed the forces of Light, but they were unable to push across the river because the enemy refused to yield any more ground. Even if they did succeed in breaching the enemy lines, it was going to be extremely difficult to capture the almost impenetrable fortress of Mahoroba. Lord Akitsu, favoring caution, held his eager troops in check and settled down on the opposite bank to study the enemy forces. He knew only too well that the first move they made would launch the final battle that would determine the fate of this land. Despite frequent provocation, the front remained deadlocked and the two opposing forces glared at each other across the river. While they waited, the mountainsides turned red, then yellow, and the first frosts covered the ground. The torches for the night watch were cut longer than before. And with each day they waited, neither advancing nor retreating, the anxiety and impatience of the soldiers grew. It was like waiting for a tautly stretched string to break. The conspicuous absence of both Princess Teruhi and Prince Tsukishiro at such a critical point in the war made them particularly uneasy. As the Princess’s golden helmet and the Prince’s silver one had always shone at the head of the forces of Light, striking fear into their hearts, their absence seemed ominous, suggesting that some evil plot was brewing.

  Then one night a troop bringing up the rear position was taken by surprise. Despite heavy patrols that kept constant watch on the movements of the entire army of Light, no one had seen the attackers cross the river. Reinforcements arrived too late, and the army of Darkness received a crushing blow. They lost many supplies and soldiers, who were either killed or scattered, but the loss in morale among the troops was even more serious than the physical loss of men or materials. Speculation spread like wildfire, and some soldiers openly declared that it was impossible to defeat the army of Light. Lord Shinado, who had hastily returned from the battlefield to report to Lord Akitsu, the commander in chief, entered his quarters with a scowl on his face. They were closeted together for some time, finally summoning the other commanders for a council of war.

  Saya was not invited. This in itself was so alarming that she could not sleep, but when she heard the results of the council the next morning, she was incredulous. She rushed to see Lord Akitsu.

  “Why are you imprisoning Chihaya? What has he done? Are you saying that he’s responsible for this last defeat?”

  “Saya.” Lord Akitsu made an effort to speak calmly, but his face was dark and gloomy. “We’re leading a great army. But it would be just as accurate to call it a motley rabble. Many of them have traveled far from their native lands, placing their trust solely in their leaders. It’s impossible to communicate the real purpose of the Light or the Darkness without confusion or misunderstanding to people from so many different homelands and with so many different viewpoints. The only way to inspire them to follow us is to present everything in black and white, to reassure them that good is good and evil, evil.”

  “And is it therefore just to imprison an innocent man?” Saya demanded fiercely. “I can’t believe that you would do this. After all, everyone already knew that he was a Prince of Light.”

  “If we let this continue, he will be in an even worse position. Some people already accuse him of communicating secretly with the other side. Even if we absolve him from blame this time, they’ll point to Chihaya every time something happens in the future. This is what I’ve been afraid would happen all along—the spark of hatred has been fanned into flame.”

  “But—” Saya broke off abruptly. “That’s so selfish! Chihaya has been fighting just as hard as anyone else.”

  His expression remained grim, but his voice, which was almost a whisper, was filled with pain. “I know. But can’t you see that that’s why fear and mistrust have spread so rapidly? The more Chihaya distinguishes himself, the more he flaunts his supremacy as a Prince of Light, his limitless power, his immortality . . .”

  His words made her wince as though she had been struck. Confused and on the verge of tears, she asked, “Then what on earth is Chihaya to do?”

  “Forgive me.” Lord Akitsu sighed. “Perhaps it’s I who am afraid.” Saya was appalled, but anything she might say would be futile.

  Lord Akitsu had already passed judgment.

  NEAR THE SPRING OF OGIDANI, where the main body of the army was stationed, there was a cave carved by wind and rain used as a dungeon for prisoners of war. It was here that Chihaya was to be imprisoned. Feeling more wretched than she could ever remember, Saya took the Dragon Sword from his hands. A grid of sturdy oak bars was placed across the entrance and stakes were driven in to hold it securely in place. Chihaya, however, appeared surprisingly calm as he faced her through the wooden bars.

  “It’s all right. It doesn’t bother me as much as you think, Saya. I’ll just go back to being on my own for a while. I’m sure they’ll come to understand in time.”

  Saya left, feeling worse for having been comforted by Chihaya. Lord Ibuki came after her. Hunching his burly shoulders in regret, he said, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t convince them. The cowards just won’t see reason.”

  “How shameful! Not you, Lord Ibuki, but the rest of us, myself included,” Saya said indignantly. “Chihaya promised to use his power for Toyoashihara—to fight with us. And yet we turn around and behave so stupidly, so heartlessly.”

  “Doubt casts a dark and troublesome shadow, making it hard to see clearly,” Lord Ibuki said, frowning. “If we just knew the facts, we might still convince them. Doubt breeds fear. It’s impossible to solve this while there’s still any doubt that he might have done it.”

  “So even you think there’s a possibility that Chihaya did it!” Saya struck out, venting her frustration.

  “Of course not!” Lord Ibuki replied in surprise. “After all, I taught him how to use a sword, remember. I’ve taught young men swordsmanship for twenty years, yet never have I met such a poor fighter. Honestly, I can hardly believe that he’s a Prince of Light. When I cross swords with another man, no matter who he might be, I can see what type of person he is.”

  Saya calmed down a little and wiped her eyes. “And what did you see?” she asked.

  “Well, now. He’s like a crane who has come flying from far away. Though he puts his feet and beak in the mud, his heart is still wandering above the clouds where he used to roam. How could someone like that possibly deceive other people?”

  SAYA went with Natsume to help the troop that had been attacked, tending the wounded and rounding up the draft animals. As she was working busily, she noticed a commotion in the area where supplies were distributed. She could hear Natsume shouting something. Surprised, she laid aside her work and ran toward the commotion. When she arrived, panting for breath, she found Natsume, surrounded by a ring of soldiers, trying to wash a filthy little girl. The child screamed loudly, thrashing in Natsume’s arms as the two scuffled.

  “No! No!”

  “You’re a girl, aren’t you? At least wash your face!”

  In danger of being kicked in the stomach, Natsume finally released her and the little girl rolled away and began rubbing dirt on her face with both hands, glaring rebelliously.

  “What’s going on? Who’s this?” Saya asked. Natsume, drenched from head to toe with spilled wash water, looked over her shoulder with an exasperated expression.

  “The provisions corps found her unconscious and brought her back with them. It seems that they mistook her for a deer and shot at her. Fortunately, she was unharmed, but when she came to her sense
s, she went wild, as you just saw.”

  She appeared to be five or six years old. She had an attractive face, but her hair was matted and she was covered in mud from head to toe. She seemed more like a wild creature than a human child the way she watched them suspiciously, reminding Saya of the time that Chihaya had become a deer.

  “She was in the forest? Alone?”

  “She must have lost her home and family in the war. She won’t even tell us her name or those of her parents or brothers and sisters,” Natsume said with concern. “What a troublesome find. What shall we do with her?”

  Moved by the girl’s plight, Saya looked at her closely. The child stared at those around her and continued to rub her cheeks with her blackened hands as though they still bothered her. Saya felt as though she was looking at herself many years ago.

  “Can’t we take care of her? We can’t just leave her here,” she said, but Natsume and the soldiers looked troubled.

  “I wish we could,” Natsume answered in a low voice, “but we barely have enough food for the soldiers with our increased numbers. Even though it may be just a little, we have to draw the line somewhere . . . My lady, she’s not the only child who has lost her parents in the war.”

  “Just this one,” Saya pleaded. “Please, couldn’t we at least help this one?”

  One of the soldiers whispered to his neighbor, “We could give her the immortal’s food. He won’t die even if he doesn’t eat. It’s a waste to feed him.”

  Saya turned her face toward them sharply. “Who dared to say such a thing?

  “You may leave this army. I don’t wish to share food or quarters with such a mean-spirited person.”

  Everyone stared at her in surprise. She had never spoken so coldly to a soldier before. Looking at each of them, she continued, “I’ll share my own rations with this child. That shouldn’t cause trouble for anyone else.”