Dragon Sword and Wind Child

by Noriko Ogiwara

  I’ve lost Chihaya. I’m no longer the Priestess of the Sword. What a fool I was. Natsume, Lord Ibuki—they’ve both left me behind. Now what shall I live for? How am I to carry on?

  Suddenly, she sensed someone walking silently toward her through the darkness. She stepped away from the tree in surprise.

  “Who’s there?”

  A small figure, about the same height as Fawn, walked toward her, silhouetted against the moonlight. But in the pale light her hair shone whiter than frost.

  “Lady Iwa,” Saya exclaimed, her voice rising in surprise. “Did the news reach you so quickly?”

  “I’m always with you. It’s just that no one notices,” Lady Iwa replied enigmatically. Then, coming right up to her, she asked abruptly, “Daughter, why did you fear, when you knew long ago that Chihaya and the Dragon were one?”

  The old woman had cut straight to the heart of the matter. Saya could not answer her at first. But as she gazed into the fathomless depths of her eyes, she realized that Lady Iwa already knew everything. Then it was not words but tears that most adequately expressed her feelings. She burst out crying, like a heartbroken child breaking down before her mother. “I didn’t believe it. I don’t know what came over me. I saw Natsume and just lost control . . . To think that even for a moment I could believe such a thing of Chihaya, when he placed the Sword in my hands the day he was imprisoned. When the only person who could have taken the Sword from my tent was Fawn.”

  “Yes, and the child you took under your wing was Princess Teruhi herself. It’s just the sort of thing that woman would do.”

  “Natsume distrusted Fawn. But . . .” Saya murmured.

  “The immortals are adept at exploiting human frailties. Playing on your compassion, she infiltrated our lines to carry out her scheme.”

  “Then if I had just been stronger, Natsume and Lord Ibuki need not have died, right?”

  Lady Iwa’s large eyes blinked slowly. “It does no good to talk of what might have been.”

  “But I can’t be silent. I’ve been such a fool that I hate myself,” Saya said, unable to stop. “I can never, ever forget the expression on Chihaya’s face. I abandoned him when he needed me most. How could I have looked at him like that? I know Lord Ibuki meant what he said to me, but it’s too late. Chihaya is gone. I can’t take it back.”

  Lady Iwa waited until Saya’s sobs had quieted, and then said gently, “You mustn’t despair. That’s the worst way to admit a mistake. It’s true that some mistakes can never be amended no matter what you do, but that doesn’t mean it’s all right to give up before you even try.”

  Saya finally wiped the tears from her eyes. “If I had even the slightest hope that I could make amends I would do anything—no matter how slim the chances.”

  “Daughter,” Lady Iwa said earnestly, “I don’t believe that Chihaya has returned to the Palace of Light. Where he has gone I don’t know, yet I feel he must be wandering somewhere not so far away.”

  “Do you really think so?” Saya gazed at her with wide, tear-drenched eyes. “Despite what we did to him, do you really think it’s possible that he might not hate us?”

  “Yes, I do, because he now knows himself. He’s no longer a child who will do as his sister bids him. He can think for himself and will make a move only after he has come to a decision. Of course, he’ll never come back to the camp of Darkness of his own accord—”

  “But if I were to look for him, I might speak with him,” Saya completed her sentence eagerly. “If there’s any hope of that, I’ll go. I will find Chihaya.”

  “Yes. It’s possible that you may be able to take his hand once again. This time, however, you must choose your words with the utmost care, for Chihaya will never again simply do what you tell him.”

  Saya took a deep breath and stood up straight. She no longer felt she had lost everything. “It will be enough to say that I’m sorry, as long as we won’t be alienated by misunderstanding anymore. I will find Chihaya. That’s what I must do.”

  Hearing the conviction in her voice, Lady Iwa closed her eyes as if lost in thought. Slowly and deliberately she said, “Saya, more than three hundred years have passed since the forces of Light began to rule this land. During that time, we struggled to resist them. Generation after generation, the Water Maiden was born, and each time she was drawn to the Light and destroyed herself. It seemed that this must be the curse of the maid who kept the Sword. Yet you found Chihaya. You are the first Water Maiden to meet the Wind Child. And I think that this will change everything. At last the Water Maiden has found the essence of that which she seeks.”

  Saya looked at the old woman apprehensively. “But I’m so thoughtless. I’ve failed at everything so far. Even though I was the first to meet Chihaya, do you think there’s a chance that I may take my own life again if I fail this time?”

  “Are you nervous?” Lady Iwa said with laughter in her voice. As if teasing her, she added, “Are you still afraid of Chihaya?”

  “No,” Saya said defiantly, but Lady Iwa shook her head.

  “No, Saya, that would be a lie. After all, he’s the Dragon. It would be false not to fear him, and a big mistake. Yet it’s also wrong to fear him completely. For he isn’t evil. If you treat him with integrity, you will be rewarded with integrity. He is the Dragon, but in order for him to transcend the Dragon you must fear, and transcend your fear.”

  chapter

  six

  THE EARTHEN

  VESSEL

  O winds of heaven, bring up the clouds

  and seal the vaulted sky

  Lest these heavenly maids should wings possess

  and away from us should fly.

  — Bishop Henjo

  The Earthen Vessel

  THE COMMANDERS SAT IN A CIRCLE and watched Lord Akitsu carefully, waiting to see how he would respond to Saya’s request. He spoke slowly, as if trying to postpone making a decision. “I understand what you’re saying. And I know that Chihaya wasn’t to blame. But what can you hope to gain by going off in search of him? He’ll never come back to us. After what we did to each other, we’ll never be able to look one another in the face again.”

  “No. We’re capable of forgiveness,” Saya argued earnestly. “If we can forgive him, he will forgive us. Those who let his immortality blind them already regret it. And besides, everyone now knows that we were deceived and manipulated by Princess Teruhi.”

  “Do we really need to go to such lengths to regain him as our ally?” Lord Shinado demanded harshly.

  “Yes. The Dragon Sword has always been guarded by the people of Darkness. Chihaya is the Dragon Sword. He’s our strongest, our greatest power.”

  “But you yourself said that we had lost him.”

  Saya flinched at this and replied in a small voice. “Yes. And that’s precisely why I myself must go in search of him.”

  “Do you think you can just wander about looking for him when you don’t even have any idea where he is?” Lord Shinado exclaimed. “In the midst of war when the slightest provocation could spark another full-scale battle? The forces of Light have set ambushes everywhere. Such a search is impossible!”

  “I’m going with her,” Torihiko interjected. He had seemed engrossed in preening his feathers but he looked up and said, “I’ve sent out my troops and they’re already wheeling through the sky looking for him.”

  Lord Shinado frowned. “Torihiko, you’re a military weapon we can’t spare. Do you intend to desert your post?”

  “All I have to do is fly back here to maintain contact,” the crow replied indifferently. “And, in case you’ve forgotten, it was for Saya’s sake that I chose to stay in this world as a bird.”

  Lord Akitsu gazed at Saya as if wondering what to do. “Can’t you wait a little longer, just until things settle down? We can’t afford to split up our forces at this time, yet I can’t send you out without protection.”

  “No, it can’t wait. Please!” Saya leaned forward, pleading. “Let me go. If Torihiko
comes with me, I can protect myself. I must leave now.

  The longer I wait, the farther away he’ll go.”

  Lord Shinado broke in. “What on earth do you see in Chihaya, that Prince of Light, that monstrous Dragon? Granted, it was you who brought him to us in the first place, but of what use is this devotion which drives you to throw your life away in order to bring him back? You act like some love-struck maid running after her lover, blind to everything else.”

  This remark was so unexpected that Saya could only gape at him in surprise. At that moment, she heard Lady Iwa’s voice. The old woman had been sitting apart in a corner of the room, her eyes closed, listening. For the first time, she opened her eyes and looked at them. “That’s right,” she said. “Saya is the Priestess of the Sword, and that’s what it means to be priestess. A priestess is someone who can wed a god despite being of mortal frame.”

  The blood rushed to Lord Shinado’s face and there was anger in his voice. “Are you saying that the god Saya serves is Chihaya? I’ll never accept that! Especially not such a—”

  “I didn’t say he was the god she serves,” Lady Iwa interrupted swiftly. “But you must recognize that with the Sword between them, Chihaya and Saya form the opposing poles of one axis. They are like opposite sides of the same body. Whether they choose to give or to take, they seek in the other what they lack within themselves. Just as a god cannot exist without a priestess, so a priestess cannot exist without a god.”

  Lord Shinado did not utter another word.

  Granted just seven days, Saya was given a horse and provisions on the condition that Torihiko fly back daily to report. After they left the meeting, Torihiko flew over and perched on her shoulder. “That must have been quite a blow to Lord Shinado,” he said. “It looks to me like he’s the love-struck one—although I can sympathize with his unrequited feelings.”

  Saya gave a small sigh. “Well, I won’t pretend that I don’t understand what you’re talking about. But it’s no use, though I feel badly for him.”

  “What do you think about what Lady Iwa said?”

  “It never occurred to me before,” she said hesitantly, her eyes downcast. “If Lady Iwa says so, then I suppose it must be true, but it’s hard for me to believe. After all, I hardly understand Chihaya myself. I have yet to guess correctly what he’ll do next.”

  She fell silent, but after they had walked a little farther, she suddenly added, “But at the same time, I think that probably no one else understands him better than I do.”

  The crow shrugged his wings. “Either way, it doesn’t really matter to me, so long as you’re happy.”

  “Either way?” Saya asked.

  “Whether you’re lover or priestess. Either way, it isn’t the business of a bird.”

  IVY LEAVES REDDER THAN FLAME and clusters of red berries on the bare branches of the shrubs vied for attention. A biting wind blew in gusts along the ground, and the trees shed their colorful leaves with each blast. The fallen leaves lay thick upon the forest floor, and with each passing day the scraggly branches of the trees were further exposed. Birds left, birds came: migrating throngs at the end of their journey.

  Torihiko gazed up at a flock of large white birds crossing the sky high above and said, “Those birds are no help. They won’t join our ranks. They feel no attachment, no loyalty to Toyoashihara because they come from across the sea.”

  “So somewhere across the sea is another land.”

  From her horse Saya gazed across a wide sandbar out into the distance. The sea was very near. She could feel it even in the breeze.

  “Let’s go over there.”

  “To the seashore? Is there some reason?”

  “Not really. I just wanted to see the ocean again.”

  Grumbling about the dangers of going where there was no cover just to please a foolish whim, he flew into the air, returning almost immediately.

  “I’ve sent out some scouts. We’ll stay here until they report.”

  They waited for a while in front of a field of swaying reeds until the birds returned. A flock of about twenty greenfinches appeared one after the other, beating their gray-green and yellow wings. As soon as they caught sight of Torihiko perched on Saya’s shoulder, the friendly round-eyed birds swooped down in a rush and perched without fear on her arms and fingers, chirping merrily.

  “All right, then. Let’s go,” Torihiko said in human speech, and the flock rose once more into the air. Saya parted with them somewhat reluctantly. She urged her mount forward and rode until they came to the tideland. Only migrating snipe could be seen in this forlorn and desolate landscape, resting their wings and poking their beaks in the mud. They learned nothing from them, and as Torihiko judged open spaces to be too dangerous, Saya was forced to turn back and follow a path through the black pine forest that grew in a belt along the coast. It climbed up from the shore, bringing her to the top of a sheer cliff where, through the branches, she could glimpse whitecapped waves crashing against the rocks below.

  She slept each night under the open sky and was on her own most of the day. Although Torihiko was extremely cautious, he spent most of his time flying in all directions, searching for Chihaya. When night began to fall, Saya would tether her horse to a tree and gather dry branches to make a small fire. Despite having gone to all the trouble of gathering dry leaves to make a bed and curling up in it, she often found that she could not sleep. More than the cold or loneliness, the fear that she was heading in the wrong direction and traveling farther and farther away from Chihaya tormented her at night.

  “You know, a lot of things become clearer when you’re on your own,” Saya said to Torihiko when he flew down to join her. “It’s funny but, although I always thought I was alone, I never really have been, at least, not in the true sense of the word.”

  “Are you feeling discouraged?”

  Saya shook her head. “No, it doesn’t make me feel like that. But for some reason I feel like the girl I was before I came to Hashiba.”

  From the first day she awoke in Hashiba, Saya had hated the frightened little girl in her dreams. She had despised her fear, her wretchedness; had rejected her and scorned her helplessness. She had not wanted to recognize her as part of herself. But she had been wrong. For was she not even now wretched, crushed by fear, pitifully pleading and searching for the warmth of love? She was no different from that little girl who wandered lost in the middle of the night. Now, at last, she realized that she must accept and recognize this part of herself. For without accepting it, she could never transcend her fear, could never move forward.

  Perhaps the place that she was searching for and never found was me, Saya thought.

  At night the wind carried the faint sounds of battle, and, peering through the trees, she could see torches flickering like foxfires on the distant shore. Although she knew from the reports gathered by Torihiko that the battle was still limited to local skirmishes, it was obviously bloody. Far removed from the tranquil peace of the passing autumn season, the final battle between Light and Darkness, on which hinged the fate of Toyoashihara, was about to begin.

  The next morning an unusual number of gulls wheeled over the coast. Diving through the white-winged flock, an excited Torihiko flew toward her like an arrow. “We’ve found him!”

  At his triumphant cry, blood pulsed hotly through Saya’s veins and she was surprised to find herself feeling faint.

  “Where is he?”

  “On the beach at the foot of the cliff on the cape. The stupid plovers mistook him for a drowned man and never said a word.”

  The cliff protruded like a nose, and it was with great difficulty that Saya clambered down the rocks. At the bottom was a shallow cove covered in coarse sand. When she finally saw Chihaya, she could not blame the plovers for their mistake. He lay across the sand like a beached corpse, half-submerged in the waves that washed the shore. From the fact that he was half-buried in sand, and from the small crabs that scuttled heedlessly over his body, it was obvious that he
had not stirred for a considerable time. Seaweed had twined itself around his hands and feet, and his salt-stained clothing was charred and torn. She felt her heart beat wildly with every step she took toward him. Perhaps there was a chance in a thousand, one in a million, that even a Prince of Light could die.

  But when she came to a halt, hesitating to touch him, Chihaya opened his eyes and looked up at her.

  “Are you awake?” The words that fell from her lips sounded ludicrous.

  “I’m so tired,” he whispered weakly. “I didn’t know that the bottom of the sea was so far away.”

  “You went there?” Saya and Torihiko exchanged looks of surprise. “I wished to meet the God of the Sea . . . but I couldn’t reach him.”

  “Can you stand?”

  “Yes.” Chihaya sat up slowly, but he seemed so weary that she had to help him walk.

  “How did you find me? In the end I stopped caring and just let the tide carry me.”

  “Torihiko found you,” Saya replied. “We’ve been traveling all over for the last six days. And it took another day to get here once we had found you. It will soon be dark. We’ve used up all seven of the days given us.”

  A little way along the narrow beach was a small hollow in the bottom of the cliff, enough to serve as a shelter from the weather, and Saya helped him over to it.

  “I’ll carry the news to Lord Akitsu and the others before night falls,” Torihiko said. “If possible, I’ll bring some help. It doesn’t look as if we’ll be able to make it up the cliff with him like this.”

  After watching the crow fly away, Saya went in search of dry driftwood. When she returned with the kindling, she found Chihaya leaning against a rock as if asleep once more. But when she began rummaging in her bag for a flint he said abruptly, “You brought the Sword. I thought you loathed carrying it around with you.”