Night of the Dragon

by Julie Kagawa

  And that was how Kiyomi-sama found me, several hours later.

  * * *

  “Yumeko.”

  I turned, looking over my shoulder. A figure stood several paces away, long hair unbound, sleeves fluttering softly in the wind. She looked exhausted, her robes tattered, dirt and blood spattered across her hands and face. But she stood there, steady and solid and real, gazing down at me in relief.

  I blinked as my own relief crashed over me like a wave. “Kiyomi-sama,” I whispered as the stubborn, persistent tears crowded forward again. “You’re alive.”

  “Yes.” The Moon Clan daimyo gave a pained smile. “We took heavy losses, and were forced to fall back several times, but the line held. The demons did not reach any of the villages, and when the Harbinger first appeared, we took advantage of the chaos and panic it caused to push them back. Still, the losses were severe. Without the aid of the Shadow Clan, none of us would have survived the night.”

  I shivered, remembering a wizened, twisted creature shouting at the Dragon, demanding it correct what it had done two thousand years ago. “Lady Hanshou...” I began.

  “I know,” Kiyomi-sama said quietly. “I was there when she transformed. She flew into the clouds after the Harbinger and did not return. Long has it been rumored that the Shadow daimyo has slowly been going mad. I hope that, wherever she is, her spirit has finally found peace.”

  “What will happen to the Kage now?” I wondered.

  Kiyomi-sama shook her head. “I do not know,” she said solemnly. “I do not believe Hanshou had any heirs. Her adviser, Kage Masao, has taken over in her absence. He appears to have the situation in hand. Beyond that, I do not know what will happen to the Shadow Clan, nor is it my place to ask. The Kage must take care of their own. And I must do the same.”

  The Tsuki daimyo hesitated, then took two steps forward, watching me with dark eyes that were both conflicted and sympathetic. “Daughter,” she began, sounding uncertain for perhaps the first time I had known her. “I am...pleased that you survived. I know you suffered greatly this night, and as your friends are not here with you, I can only assume...” She trailed off, her smooth brow furrowing, as if unsure of how to proceed. I bit my lip, feeling twin tears slide down my cheeks, as the Moon Clan daimyo paused to collect herself.

  “But you are here,” Kiyomi-sama went on. “The night of the Wish is over, and the empire still stands. Genno is gone, the gate to Jigoku sealed, and the demons have returned to the abyss. I don’t know what happened, or what caused the Harbinger to go momentarily mad, but it appears that, against all odds, you have emerged victorious. I can only hope this means that the Tsuki islands are safe, that it is finally over.”

  I nodded. “We won,” I whispered, hardly able to believe it myself. “It’s over, but...” I trailed off, closing my eyes as memories crowded forward, bright and painful. “My friends,” I said, my voice shaking. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them. They were the true heroes tonight.”

  “They will be remembered,” Kiyomi-sama said solemnly. “In memory and song, in verse and play, their legacy will not be forgotten.” She raised her head, gazing at the sky as the sunlight washed over her face. “We will mourn those we lost, and commit them to legend, but tonight, we will celebrate with those still standing.”

  She looked at me, and in that dark gaze, I saw the terrible, always present sorrow finally begin to fade, vanishing like mist in the sun. “Sixteen years ago, I lost a daughter,” the daimyo said. “Last night, I thought I would lose her a second time. But by fate, the Kami’s mercy, or her own incredible luck, she stands before me now. We have been given another chance, Yumeko,” Kiyomi-sama continued and, incredibly, she smiled. It was faint and rusty, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time, but it lit up her face and drove away the lingering shadows in her eyes. “If you are ready,” she murmured, and held out her hands. “I would love to show you where you come from.”

  Tears filled my eyes. I stumbled forward and grasped the outstretched arms, clinging to them tightly as her fingers curled over mine. “I would like that,” I whispered. “It has been a very, very long night.”

  The Moon Clan daimyo returned my smile. With a sigh, she gazed over the valley, in the direction of Shinsei Yaju. “My advisers are likely in a panic right now,” she said wryly. “And the kami are starting to return. I can feel them, the land welcoming them back. But there is much to do still. Come then, daughter,” she said, and squeezed my hands. “Let’s go home.”

  Epilogue

  So began the long years of peace in Iwagoto.

  For the rest of the empire, not much changed. The Shadow Clan, admittedly smaller, having lost many of their strongest warriors, returned to their lands to begin the arduous task of choosing a new daimyo. Hanshou had no living heirs, none that had been alive in the past thousand years, and though a few nobles claimed they could tangentially trace their bloodline back to one of the daimyo’s children, in the end, Kage Masao proved he was the closest living relative to Kage Hanshou. Her many times over great-grandson. Lord Iesada was said to be particularly unhappy with the choice, expressing his doubts loudly and passionately. He was found in his room one morning, his face blue, his teacup smashed and shattered on the floor. It was determined he had choked on a mochi ball, a terribly unfortunate accident, and after his death, the whispers against the new daimyo faded away.

  Kamigoroshi, the Cursed Sword of the Kage, was returned to the Kage family shrine, where it was sealed away and watched over by their priests. Though the blade no longer contained the trapped soul of an oni, the curse remained, according to Kage Masao. “It is a tainted weapon that took the life of a Great Kami,” he told the Moon Clan daimyo before the Kage departed Tsuki lands that night. “The curse of Kamigoroshi has never been Hakaimono’s presence, but the power to slay anything in its path. It has corrupted countless demonslayers and has taken the lives of thousands. It is not a blade that should be wielded by anyone in this world. I believe the Kami themselves have cursed the Shadow Clan through the years for using a weapon of such evil. Perhaps someday, when darkness threatens the empire again, Kamigoroshi will be taken up by one who can resist its pull. But for now, let the Cursed Blade fade into legend once more, and be forgotten.”

  And so it was. From that night on, there were no more demonslayers, no Shadow Clan warriors wielding a blade of purple fire. The story of the sword that slew the Dragon was whispered throughout Iwagoto, but in time, even those tales faded away and were lost to history.

  The Dragon scroll was taken back to the Moon Clan capital, and a great debate arose around what should be done with the artifact and how its use could be prevented in the future. Hiding the scroll hadn’t worked. Separating it into pieces hadn’t worked, and had only resulted in more lives lost.

  At last, after many days of council, the Moon Clan daimyo made the decision that the Tsuki themselves would become the new guardians of the Dragon scroll. That the prayer would remain there, on Moon Clan islands, a breath away from the cliff where the Dragon was first summoned. They would make a vow to the Kami that no Tsuki would use the power of the scroll for themselves, and they would do their best to ensure the Dragon’s Wish would not fall into the wrong hands. A shrine was built within the Moon Clan palace, and the scroll would rest there, guarded by priests, shrine maidens and kami, out of sight of the rest of the world. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it was better than releasing the scroll into the wind and letting it fall where it might. Besides, who knew what the next millennium would bring? Perhaps the world would have moved on and forgotten the legend of the Dragon’s Prayer.

  I knew that was just a dream, that when the time came for the Harbinger to rise once more, the empire would undoubtedly descend into chaos trying to get the scroll. But a thousand years was a long time. There were things I wanted to do, a whole world to see, before I had to worry about the Dragon scroll again.

  I stayed
on the Tsuki islands for three years. After Kiyomi-sama officially made me her heir, there were a lot of things to learn. Tsuki politics, their relationship with the kami and the rest of the empire, the complicated ways of court—it all made my head spin. Still, I was happy to stay, eager to learn everything I could. This was my family; I wanted to know everything about them and where I came from. Where I belonged.

  And yet, though I was happier than I had been in a long time, sometimes I would find myself on the end of a pier or on a small sandy beach, staring over the water to the place where the sea met the sky. Or sitting in the grass in the extensive gardens of the palace, gazing up at the stars as the kodama danced around me. Every so often, I would see a face or a silhouette in a crowd that would make me jump, heart in my throat, until I realized it wasn’t who I thought. It was never who I thought.

  One night, more than three years after the night of the Wish, there was a tap on my door, and Kiyomi-sama appeared in the frame.

  I glanced up from the book I had been studying: a collection of essays from the famed philosopher-poet Mizu Tadami. It was dry, fairly boring reading, with questions that made me wonder why one would spend so much time agonizing whether a cherry blossom had a soul, but Kiyomi-sama was hosting a Mizu envoy in a couple days, and the Water Clan loved debating philosophy. A good host should be able to talk about the things their guests were interested in, Kiyomi-sama had said. Even if it made her brain hurt.

  “Kiyomi-sama,” I greeted as the Tsuki daimyo offered that faint smile usually reserved just for me. “Please, come in. Is something wrong?”

  “No.” The head of the Moon Clan stepped through the frame and closed the door softly behind her. Her hair hung loose instead of being pinned atop her head, and her robes, though elegant, were a little less fine than the ones she would wear to court. I knew I was supposed to bow, putting my book aside and touching my forehead to the floor, when the daimyo of the Tsuki entered the room, but when it was just us, the rules weren’t adhered to as strongly.

  Kiyomi-sama stepped daintily across the tatami mats and sat across from me, her gaze falling to the book in my hands. A wince and a faint furrow crossed her brow, even as she smiled. “Ah, Mizu Tadami. I have spent many hours debating the finer points of his work with young warrior-poets. Nowadays, however, I fear I must discuss his work over a few cups of sake, otherwise I end the night with a terrible headache.”

  “Oh,” I said, putting the book aside. “Good. Something to look forward to.”

  She chuckled, and it still sent a flutter through me. Her smiles had become more commonplace, but in the beginning, it was almost as if she had forgotten how to laugh. That first year, I had spent a disgusting amount of time playing harmless pranks on the nobles, trying to coax a chuckle from the daimyo, a snort, a titter, anything. The poor nobles had suffered great indignities, from birds in their hair to having their fans stolen by monkeys, but Kiyomi-sama could either see through the illusions or was wise to the ways of kitsune, for she always seemed to know who was behind the ridiculous happenings at court. The day I accidentally let a very real wild pig into the main hall, where a troop of Noh actors were performing an intensely dramatic play for Kiyomi-sama, was the day I finally saw her laugh until tears streamed from her eyes. I got in so much trouble for that little stunt, but I considered it a victory.

  “I saw you on the cliffs today.” Kiyomi-sama’s voice was solemn. I blinked as she fixed her gaze on me, dark eyes studying my face. “You were gazing over the water, watching the last of the merchant ships depart. And there was...a longing about you, Yumeko-chan, one I have seen before. Do you wish to leave the Tsuki islands?”

  “No!” I shook my head quickly. “I’m happy here, Kiyomi-sama. I have you, the Moon Clan, the kami and all the yokai who live here. This is my home.”

  “I know.” Kiyomi-sama nodded. “And it will always be your home. You will always be welcome here, Yumeko-chan. But I know yokai, and I have seen that look before. You came to us from the Silent Winds temple in Earth Clan territory, you have been to Kin Heigen Toshi and the lands of Shadow, you have crossed the Dragon Spine and sailed the Kaihaku Sea to find these islands. You have seen more of the empire than most of my own people, and you have witnessed things that few will ever see in their lifetimes. But that only makes it worse, doesn’t it?”

  I swallowed, looking down at my hands. “My dreams to see the world are strong, Kiyomi-sama. But not as important as having found my home. The empire will always be there. Although...” My hands curled into fists, and I took a quiet breath, not wanting her to see the truth in my eyes. The longing that I could not shut out. “Gomen,” I whispered. “I am happy here, but...”

  “Daughter.” Kiyomi-sama’s voice was gentle. “You are kitsune. And though it has taken me a long time, I have learned that some spirits cannot be restrained. The world calls to them, they hear its song in the wind, in the clouds, on the horizon. And the tighter you hold on to them, the louder the song grows. Until it is deafening.

  “We have found each other,” the daimyo continued, her voice as soft as sakura petals. “You are connected to these islands, as I am. Your home will always be with us. But you hear the world calling, and that is a song few can ignore.”

  The Tsuki daimyo rose, graceful and sure, to gaze down at me. “Someday, you will inherit this clan, daughter,” she told me. “When I have joined my ancestors, you will lead this family, and the Dragon scroll, the pact with the kami, the responsibility to keep these islands safe—all of that will fall to you. But you are young, and I am not gone yet. I can find the strength to let you go.”

  Kiyomi-sama gave me a gentle smile, though her dark eyes glimmered with the hint of tears. “The name of the ship that will be bringing the Mizu envoy to these islands is the Azure Serpent,” she said quietly. “The captain happens to be a good friend of mine. When it is time for the ship to depart for Water Clan territory once more, I can easily convince him to take one more passenger on to Seiryu City. From there, the whole of the empire will be waiting for you to discover it.”

  My heart leaped, but I shook my head. “I can’t just leave, Kiyomi-sama,” I protested. “What about the Tsuki? And the other clans? They all know I’m your daughter. If I just disappear...”

  “I will tell them you are on a pilgrimage,” Kiyomi-sama said calmly. “And they will not question it. Do not worry, daughter.” She gave a twisted little smile. “The rest of the empire views the Moon Clan as strange and rather eccentric. It makes certain decisions easier.”

  Bending down, she took my hand and drew me upright, looking me in the eye. “I used to be worried,” she said quietly. “I feared that one day, you would vanish and I would never see you again. But you have grown, and you have already faced so much. If the world calls to you, I have to let you go. And I will trust that you will come back.”

  I nodded, feeling a lump rise to my throat, the prickle of tears in the corner of my eyes. “I promise,” I whispered. “I... I think I do have to go, Kiyomi-sama. There’s so much out there that I want to see. But it won’t be forever. I will come back. Now that I’ve found you, nothing will ever keep me away again.”

  And nothing did.

  From the personal journal of the Moon Clan daimyo,

  on the last day of summer.

  They tell stories, nowadays, of a wandering fox. Most times it would appear as a humble peasant girl, but sometimes as a yokai with glowing golden eyes. You could meet her anywhere: on a bridge in the valley of Kin Heigen Toshi, in the deep forests of the Kage, on the highest peaks of the Dragon Spine. She has been encountered in caves, in tiny farming villages or walking alone on roads throughout the empire. Some stories say she is benevolent, that she travels the country looking for people to help. Other tales claim she is a force of mischief and mayhem, and will always appear when something unexpected is about to happen. But in most tales, either unwittingly, through seeming blind luck or in a baf
fling display of chaos, the fox ends up aiding those she encounters, and they are left confused but grateful when she departs, sometimes not even sure of what they saw.

  But then one day, many years after her stories began to spread, the fox disappeared. No one noticed at first, and no one could guess the cause, though the common thought was she had just gotten bored, as fickle yokai were wont to do, and returned to the simpler life of a field fox. The wandering kitsune wasn’t seen in Iwagoto again, but her stories remained, and eventually passed into legend.

  A few years after the wandering fox faded from Iwagoto, the daimyo of the Moon Clan left the world. It was said she went peacefully to her ancestors, surrounded by family and clan, her only daughter at her side. Those who knew the Tsuki daimyo in life remembered a beautiful but solemn woman who never smiled, but who in her final years seemed truly happy and at peace, passing the mantle of leadership on to her daughter. Her daughter, woefully unprepared, struggled at first, but she had the kami and her people to guide her, and eventually became a leader she hoped her mother would be proud of.

  Today marks the one hundredth year since the Night of the Dragon. One hundred years since we stood against Genno, the demons of Jigoku and the ninetail who would become a god, if but for a moment. Today is a day of celebration, of remembrance, of honoring those who gave their lives to stop a madman from destroying the empire. Today, the entire Moon Clan celebrates, and the empire celebrates with us, but I cannot help but feel a bit melancholy. A century is a lifetime in mortal years, and those who stood with us that day have gone to their ancestors. But I am kitsune, and my father’s blood flows through my veins. A hundred years is the blink of an eye to a fox, and I remember that day as clearly as if it happened two nights past.