Dragon Sword and Wind Child

by Noriko Ogiwara

  “A little,” Chihaya replied quietly.

  “It would have been better had you never known,” the Princess said with a sigh. “Then you must also know why we’ll be forced to destroy you. You’re our father’s child and, at the same time, his gravest threat. That is, if you become our foe . . . But there’s still time.” She gazed at him partly in entreaty, partly as if to compel him. “Don’t make me your enemy. If you return to the palace, I’ll protect you once again. I’ll protect you from your own self. That’s what you need.”

  Chihaya hesitated for a long time. Seeing that his heart was wavering,

  Princess Teruhi waited motionless for his reply. Finally, he spoke.

  “I—I’ve already promised Saya,” he said haltingly, “to use my power to aid Toyoashihara. I can’t break my word so suddenly.”

  Rage glittered in Princess Teruhi’s eyes. She said coldly, “So you intend to set a vow made between children before a request from your own sister? You’re the same fool you always were. Let’s see if you still say that when the mob descends upon you.”

  Returning the Dragon Sword to Chihaya, she turned her back on him in fury. “At least you should protect yourself. I wasn’t lying. We can’t live if we’re cut into little pieces. But even should you escape their clutches, I’ll come after you and chop you up myself. Consider yourself no longer my brother. I made my request, once and once only. There will be no second chance.”

  In the blink of an eye, she vanished. Even Chihaya did not know how she managed it. Confused and dazed, he looked at the Sword she had placed in his hand. At that moment a voice clouded with fury smote him from above.

  “Hold! Murderer! How dare you slay a woman!”

  Startled, he looked up to see two guards, their faces black with anger, standing with their spears at the ready.

  “No. You’ve made a mistake. It wasn’t me.”

  But his voice was drowned by the guard’s whistle as it cut the air, sounding the alarm.

  4

  LORD SHINADO rushed into Saya’s quarters, his usual cool composure utterly disrupted. “Something terrible has happened!”

  Saya had been sewing, thinking that it was about time for Fawn to return. When Lord Shinado wrenched aside the tent flap instead, she had looked up at him in startled amazement. Struggling to catch his breath, he said in a low voice, “Chihaya escaped from his cell. He was caught immediately, but he has been surrounded by a frenzied mob and we can’t reach him. They’re demanding his immediate execution.”

  The needle and cloth fell from Saya’s hands. “Where is he?”

  “In the clearing by the spring. Lord Ibuki rushed to the scene and is doing his best to calm everyone down, but they’re so enraged that they’re liable to strike out even at him. You’re the Priestess. Do you have the power to still the wrath of mortal men?”

  “I have no idea!”

  There was no time for further exchange. The two raced toward the hollow, which was ringed by a wood of alder trees. The area was now packed with angry, shouting men. “Kill the Prince of Light! Carve him into pieces!” they cried. Saya was stunned, wondering what could have caused this drunken delirium. Swept up in the maelstrom, the glassy-eyed mob was no longer capable of listening to reason. They did not even see Saya or Lord Shinado, jostling them roughly as they attempted to push through the crowd. The clamor was fused into a foreign tongue that spoke only of hunger and rage.

  They’re like an enormous, ravenous beast, Saya thought as she struggled to make her way through the seething throng. They need something stronger than words to appease their hunger. But it mustn’t be blood, or they’ll become no better than wolves. Oh, how I wish I could dump a bucket of cold water over each one of them.

  Over her head, she heard the sound of someone being struck.

  “Where are your eyes? What do you think you’re doing to the Lady of the Sword?”

  A burly arm reached out and grasped Saya, plucking her from the midst of the crowd as though pulling a plant from the field. It was Lord Ibuki.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. But what about . . .”

  Saya brushed her disheveled hair from her face and looked around. Chihaya stood beneath a leafless tree surrounded by soldiers. His arms were tied behind him around the trunk of the tree, and he gazed off into the distance, unaware of her presence. His face was gashed and his knees and chest were smeared with grime. The soldiers stood with their spears at the ready, but more to protect Chihaya from the angry mob than anything else. Already several men were arguing with the guards, barely restraining themselves from grabbing them.

  “Why do they demand his execution when he’s immortal?”

  Lord Ibuki answered her in a strained voice, “They say that if he’s cut into little pieces and each is buried separately, he won’t return to life. Whether it’s true or not, I don’t know.”

  Saya caught her breath. “Cut Chihaya . . . ?”

  “No matter what he has done, Lord Akitsu as our commander should be the one to judge. Chihaya shouldn’t be butchered here in a so-called execution. We must take him to Lord Akitsu. Saya, can you help us calm this crowd?”

  Still pondering what to do, she looked around and noticed a body shrouded by a straw mat lying at the feet of some guards who held back the surging crowd with their spears. The lifeless hand of a woman protruded from beneath the mat.

  “No! Wait!” Lord Ibuki tried to stop her, but it was too late. Saya flew to the corpse and, wrenching aside the mat, gazed on what lay beneath: the lifeless form of Natsume and, beside her, the Dragon Sword.

  Without realizing it, she began to scream. Even when she became aware of what she was doing, she could not stop. Her high, thin wail rose clearly above the tumult of the mob, so that even the shouting men heard and were startled by it.

  “Natsume! Why? Why? Why?”

  She threw herself on the body, shaking it futilely while she continued to scream. For it was Natsume, who but a short time ago had smiled like the Goddess as she placed her hand upon her belly; Natsume, who had so confidently declared that Masaki would return. Saya could not bear the sight without screaming. She could not accept what her eyes were seeing.

  “Why? Who did this?”

  “The Prince of Light. He took her as his victim,” someone said. “The one who does not die brings nothing but evil.”

  “Kill him!”

  “Let us harbor this evil no longer!”

  “Kill him!”

  “The immortals aren’t human! They don’t deserve to be judged with justice. Why should they be treated like us?”

  “Tear him to pieces!”

  The tumult rose once again like sulfurous water brought to the boil.

  “Off with his ears! His fingers! Cut him into pieces and make him die!”

  Amid the clamor of voices that assailed her ears, Saya finally raised her face from Natsume and looked at Chihaya. He saw her now. When he caught her gaze, she saw his expression change. At first he showed only surprise, but as he stared at her, the expression on his face gradually changed to one of deep despair. As though he were a mirror, she saw upon his face her own expression reflected back at her. The sight filled her with grief, yet she could do nothing to stop it.

  Surrounded by the angry roar that filled their ears, they looked at each other as though at a stranger. True, the noise prevented speech, yet the yawning chasm across which they gazed separated them more surely than the tumult. Saya, stunned by the enormity of her loss, turned her face away. If she looked at Chihaya any longer, she was afraid that next she would see distrust and hatred in his face. She could not bear that. Even if his face was just a mirror, she did not want to see such things in him.

  In the next instant, the ring of men broke and disintegrated into a surging mob. Having lost all restraint, the soldiers forgot themselves entirely and, with weapons raised, rushed like an avalanche toward the tree where Chihaya was tied. The guards trying desperately to check the sudden onslaught were
struck, stabbed, or thrust aside and overrun. Saya, too, was pushed roughly away and almost trampled underfoot, but Lord Shinado snatched her out of the way just in time. She had almost fainted, but, pulling her wits together, she cried out as soon as she could speak, “Stop them! Hurry!”

  “Impossible!” Lord Shinado replied, ignoring the half-crazed Saya as he tried to distance her from the jostling crowd. “It would require more than the strength of one or two men. I’d likely be killed myself in the effort.”

  “Stop them! If you don’t,” Saya pleaded, trembling, “it is they who will die.”

  “What?” Lord Shinado stopped to stare at her. But at that very moment a blinding streak of blue lightning flashed across the sky, transforming the clouds. In the same instant a deafening roar smote the earth, shaking the land of Toyoashihara. Not one man was left standing under the terrific impact. People toppled over each other and lay cowering on the ground. Lifting faces ashen with fear, they saw flames erupting from the walnut tree where Chihaya had stood. Blackened instantly from the tip down to the base of its trunk, which was broad enough to put one’s arms around, the tree burned fiercely, crimson flames blossoming along its charred branches, until it came crashing down, a harbinger of death to those below. The pitiful screams of people who had failed to escape rent the air. But this was only the beginning of the onslaught. Lightning struck at them again and again. Before their very eyes, the sky turned a murky black, as if ink had been spilled across it, and a raging storm descended. Violent winds assailed them along with a sudden torrential rain, and this, combined with direct assaults from repeated thunderbolts, compounded the disaster. It was almost as if the lightning was being aimed at the water, felling scores of people with one blow. Within a short time the scene presented was more tragic than any witnessed on the bloodiest battlefield. The dead lay where they fell, buried in mud, the wounded moaned, and both were trampled underfoot by the survivors who fled in panic.

  Saya, who was fortunate to have been outside the circle, was able to reach shelter behind a rock, but she was powerless to do anything more within this nightmare of driving rain. She could only cower in terror. A god of appalling fury, one whom thunderclouds followed and lightning obeyed, raged even now above them, totally out of control.

  Someone grasped her shoulder suddenly, and she almost jumped out of her skin. Lord Shinado stood beside her, drenched from head to toe, his hair plastered to his scalp. He had been there all along, but in her fear she had forgotten him.

  “Is this the truth, then?” he said in low voice. His tone and expression were drained of life. He, too, was afraid. “It is Chihaya who becomes the Dragon? The Sword and Chihaya are one?”

  Saya nodded, feeling her throat ache with suppressed sobs. Clouds of spray rose from the rocks in the driving rain, which formed countless silver rivulets. The brook had already burst its dam and had swollen into a turbid brown stream.

  “Stop him, Saya, please!” Lord Shinado pleaded. “If this continues, we’ll be destroyed before we ever have the chance to face the forces of Light.”

  Unable to restrain herself, Saya wailed, “How? How shall I stop him? When I know full well what we have done to him.”

  “But aren’t you the Priestess of the Sword?”

  “We’ve lost him. Don’t you understand?”

  She longed to rebuke him. Can’t you see by looking at me? she wanted to demand. Can’t you see how afraid, how hopeless, how lost I am? But she knew that her rage should be directed at herself.

  Illuminated by flashes of lightning, a huge man ran splashing through the torrent, covering his head with his arms. It was Lord Ibuki.

  “So there you are, Lord Shinado, Saya. Won’t you lead those who can walk to higher ground? They’re in danger here. If the river overflows its banks, they won’t stand a chance.”

  “But the Dragon’s up there. Lightning is still falling.”

  “Have no fear. I’ll deal with him,” Lord Ibuki said calmly. Lord Shinado and Saya both stared at him in shock.

  “How do you intend to do what even Saya, the Priestess of the Sword, cannot?”

  Lord Ibuki glanced at Saya. “That’s Chihaya, isn’t it? If it is, he’s my pupil. It’s my duty, as his teacher, to admonish him,” he stated, slapping the wide hilt of his sword. As he turned away, Saya clutched at him desperately.

  “Wait! A sword is no match for his power. You’ll be killed. The Dragon has neither eyes nor heart. He can’t see you.”

  “How can we know that if we don’t try?” Lord Ibuki said with a flash of white teeth. His was the face of a bold and seasoned warrior, but he was far more than that. “I will not be slain so easily. I’ll tell him that if he wants to bare his fangs against his comrades, he must kill me first.”

  Still clinging to him, Saya whispered, “Please don’t go. If we lose you, too, what are we to do?”

  Lord Ibuki only stroked her head with his large hand as though comforting a wayward child. Then, gently loosening her grasp, he climbed the rocks in the torrential rain to face the Dragon dancing amid the black clouds.

  “SAYA.”

  A familiar voice called her name. The storm had abated and the lonesome twilight imbued the land with stillness. The red rays of the setting sun finally pierced the clouds, which were only now beginning to disperse, casting a warmer blush on the tips of the crimson-leafed trees. Saya was sitting in a daze outside a small hut. She turned to stare blankly toward the sound, but saw no one, only the tethered horses of Lord Akitsu and the others nudging each other.

  “Hey, Saya!”

  A little life came into her face when she finally located the owner of the voice perched on the fence. “Torihiko!”

  “I thought you’d forgotten me. And I was only gone a short while,” said the crow.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Here and there. I’ve mustered many troops. Even Lord Akitsu couldn’t match their number. From now on, they’ll have to call me Lord Torihiko,” he joked, but when she did not respond, he flapped his wings. “Cheer up. The Dragon was stilled, right?”

  “But it was Lord Ibuki who did it.”

  “How is he?”

  Saya shook her head wordlessly. Then, unable to suppress her feelings any longer, she groaned. “Torihiko, I’ve failed.”

  “No you haven’t.”

  “Yes, I have. I’ve failed at everything. I’m totally useless. How can I be the Priestess, when I can’t do even one thing right when I’m needed?”

  Torihiko gazed at her in concern as she sat with her face buried in her hands. “I should never have left you,” he said.

  After a short while an attendant came out of the hut and addressed Saya in a hushed voice. “His Lordship is conscious. He wishes to speak with you.”

  She followed him through the doorway. In the dim light of the hut, the army’s key commanders, including Lord Akitsu, sat silently, their faces grave. It was clear from their expressions that there was no hope of recovery. Her spirits sinking even further, Saya looked at Lord Ibuki’s huge, prostrated form. His hair and beard were singed and burns covered his entire body; beneath the white cloth, she caught glimpses of painfully blistered skin. He had lost both eyes. The healer, unable to do more, had applied a cool damp cloth over them in an attempt to relieve at least some of the pain. As Saya stood beside him, he moved his blackened lips.

  “Is that Saya? The footsteps were light.”

  Hoarse and barely audible, his voice, normally loud and booming, was unrecognizable. Clenching her teeth to hold back the tears, Saya sank to her knees beside him and said, “Yes, it’s me, Saya. Are you in pain?”

  “No. It’s not so bad. Saya, I spoke with Chihaya. In the end, he knew me,” he said as cheerfully as he could manage. “I told him that since he was the worst pupil I had ever had, I was relieved to see that he could now beat even his teacher.”

  “It was all my fault,” Saya whispered.

  “Saya, don’t reject him. I’m begging you. Please. He raged b
lindly, unable to control his own power. He didn’t even know what had happened to us. He isn’t evil. Far from it. For we hurt him badly.”

  “Yes. I know.” Saya nodded. Her tears overflowed and would not stop. When she thought of losing this man, who was large not only in body but also in soul, and all for nothing, she wanted to rant and rave and pummel the earth. But she could only weep quietly. Lord Ibuki had already set his feet toward the Goddess and was only glancing back at her as he went on his way.

  “If you reject Chihaya, he’ll reject himself. And that would be a terrible thing, for he will become true evil. He’ll become the Dragon. Forgive him. Though the death of Natsume hurt you, Chihaya has also been hurt. Forgiveness is your strength.”

  “Yes,” Saya replied through her tears.

  “That’s what makes you the Water Maiden.” Lord Ibuki let out a long sigh as if suddenly tired. “I go before you to seek rest with the Goddess, but I won’t forget you. Tell Chihaya that I hope we meet again in some other guise.”

  He fell into a deep sleep. And then, as they watched, he quietly breathed his last.

  WHEN NIGHT FELL, the sky cleared into a starlit vault. The quarter moon cast a fresh, clean light, etching shadows in the autumn thickets. A wake was held for Lord Ibuki; after placing his coffin within a newly built enclosure, his companions kept watch. There was none who did not mourn his passing, none who did not lament this appalling blow to their military strength. Saya sat a long while in a corner of the small hut, which was thronged with people, but unable to endure it any longer, she finally slipped out alone into the night.

  White chrysanthemums floated forlornly in the light of the moon.

  The smell of frost was in the air. By dawn the ground would be covered in white. To Saya, the cold bite of the air on her skin seemed appropriate. She walked over to a cherry tree that cast a dappled shadow in the moonlight through its sparsely leafed branches and rested her throbbing head against its trunk, whispering softly, “What’s done is done and can’t be undone.” These words kept ringing in her head. No matter what she thought about, in the end, her thoughts always came back to them.