The Wings of Dreams

by Fuyumi Ono

  “Aren’t there plenty of gods about?”

  “The Yellow Sea is a place abandoned even by the gods. The only person who will come to save you is Shinkun.”

  “Huh,” said Shushou.

  Silence swept across the plaza, following by the low sound of a drum. The Earth Gate was about to open.

  Chapter 11

  [2-3] The base of the Kongou Range that encircled the Yellow Sea was much broader than any of the other mountains whose summits jutted through the Sea of Clouds. The wide road cutting through the soaring wall of rock had to cover an equally long distance.

  When the Earth Gate opened, the vast canyon threading beneath the canyon peaks—perched so close together at times they appeared to be sculpted out of stone—would continue on.

  From the Earth Gate, the canyon walls gradually rose to the level of the cliffs. Winding and twisting along the bottom of the deep ravine, the road rose too, though the illusion presented to the eye was that of it sinking down into oblivion.

  At six hundred yards wide, the canyon road could accommodate a line of mounted cavalry coming and going. With the soldiers bound for the fort at the lead, the people in the plaza hurried towards the Yellow Sea.

  Wisps of clouds lingered here and there along the way and on the bare rock walls on either side. There was no wind and no warmth to disperse in any case.

  The sun of the Spring Equinox was shadowed by the Kongou Mountains before them. The predawn darkness continued on and on. As the canyon deepened, stretching out like a winding river above them, the sky began to turn. The first faint rays of sunlight had barely brushed the ridgelines when the throngs striding along the valley floor in two and threes came to a halt and raised their voices.

  An enormous gate blocked the way. It seemed to lean inwards, though that impression was due only to its overwhelming size.

  The gate had two stories. The first was hewn from a uniform slab of rock. Tightly shut before them, the red lacquer doors set into the slab rose dozens of times higher than an ordinary person.

  Atop the second story, vermillion columns roofed with green tile seemed to punch holes in the sky. There was a smaller gate in the center. It had no doors. Above this gate was a placard on which was written in black ink and gold leaf: “Reiken Gate.”

  “That is—” Shushou said in a small voice. “That is a picture of a youma.”

  The strange figure of a youma or a similar magical beast was engraved into the red doors of the gate. It had the body of a dragon and a great span of wings.

  “That is the sacred beast that guards the Reiken Gate. Tenhaku.”

  However high the Reiken Gate was, a humble pegasus could fly over it. Then there was that open gate in the second story, and the open sky above. But Tenhaku lived atop those soaring columns. Anyone who tried to enter the Yellow Sea in violation of the law would be struck down by lightning, their soul snatched and devoured.

  Shushou listened to Gankyuu’s explanation as she solemnly strode forward, looking up at the huge gate. The rest of the people facing the Reiken Gate sank into a heavy silence. They came to a halt in front of the gate. The tension was palatable.

  The terraced sentry posts chiseled into the ledges of the steep cliffs in front of the gates were unoccupied. The gates opened at noon. There was still time. The taut atmosphere filled the canyon.

  A roar rang out from the tops of the tall columns, soft and low and yet shaking the depths of the air. The kind of sound that seemed to reverberate forever. Less a roar than a growl. People cast fearful glances around them. A fretful murmur shot through the crowd. The timber changed, the growl matching the murmur and continuing on.

  “What—” Shushou said in a small voice.

  “The voice of Tenhaku,” Gankyuu said. He pointed up at gate in the upper story. “It’s okay. Look.”

  There was no breath of wind, no sign of an alighting bird on the towering red and green edifice. The last lingering echoes of Tenhaku’s roar and the rustling crowd faded away, leaving behind a grave stillness.

  A human figure appeared on the impassable gate. Only a small shadow at first. It stood on the monolithic slab, then stepped casually into thin air. The shadow descended as if sinking through clear water. When it passed the midway point, the figure became recognizable as an old man.

  There was nothing the slightest bit unusual about him. All eyes followed his descent as he landed on the ground at the foot of the red gate. This was Tenhaku in his transformed state, or so everybody said. The black steel shackles around his hands and feet said as much too.

  Standing in front of the gate, he bowed to no one in particular, turned on his heels and placed his hands on the huge doors. The doors were forty times his height and two hundred yards wide. The weight was unimaginable. And yet they eased open with no obvious resistance.

  A warm wind blew in, whipping up the hems of clothes and disheveling before it raced down the canyon. These were the winds of the Yellow Sea, that the people of Ken feared more than anything.

  The old man’s hands spread apart. The doors parted to reveal another crowd of people with a line of troops at the fore, a mirror image of the crowd on the other side, all holding their breath.

  The old man walked forward, from inside the gate to the outside, the doors appearing to yield to the force of his hands as his arms reached out, until they gaped wide open.

  The old man stopped. This time he faced the gate, bowed again, and disappeared into thin air. At the same time, a great shout of joy rang out.

  The shout shook the canyon walls. The wind blew and howled. The soldiers poised at the gate broke into a run.

  The cavalry outside the gate urged their mounts forward. Bows and spears in hand, they stormed down the canyon. Beyond the human tide, the stone formations of the barrier walls blocked the canyon like a dam.

  At the same time, the soldiers inside the gate rushed past them, greetings and expressions of warm regard flashing back and forth. Since the Spring Equinox of the previous year, they had held down the fortress that sheltered those traveling from and back to Ken.

  Departing after a one-year tour of duty, with a great cry of relief, they shot through the gate and, wielding their weapons, climbed the ledges to the sentry posts. From there they covered the retreat of the rear guard.

  Kijuu skimmed past them. Taking the lead in their straightaway plunge into the Yellow Sea were the corpse hunters. They had until the following day at noon to scout the Yellow Sea and return. Their more stalwart companions followed at a more leisurely pace, planning on staying there until the Summer Solstice.

  Then there were those who’d entered at the Winter Solstice and had made it safely to the spring.

  Those going on the Shouzan and unaccustomed to life in the Yellow Sea watched in wonder as the scene unfolded before them. Confused by all the clamor, they mounted their rides and galloped through the gate, mingling with the thronging masses. Those on foot came to their senses and raced after them.

  “Wow!” said Shushou, her own exclamations washed away by the tremendous tumult. She just barely heard Gankyuu’s response.

  “This is the Day of Ankou,” he said with a smile. His soul was steeped in the terrors of the Yellow Sea and yet he always found himself looking forward to this ritualistic Day of Ankou and the moment when one of the four gates opened.

  “It really is an incredible sight.”

  “This is your last chance. Turn back now and you’ll reach the Earth Gate before it closes.

  Shushou glanced over her shoulder at him. Her voice rose crisply above the noise. “No.”

  “You’re really set on going?”

  “I am going. Kyou needs an Empress.”

  “In other words, you.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Gankyuu looked into those unyielding eyes and sighed. He took up the reins, climbed into the saddle, and reached a hand down to her. “Up you go.”

  Chapter 12

  [2-4] The haku set off on foot towards th
e fort.

  Supplies had been ferried in every Spring Equinox for years upon years in order to build the fort, the first and last rest stop in the Yellow Sea. It was a short flight by air, but less-friendly winged creatures were already visible in the sky over the steep canyon walls.

  These were youma sniffing out the spreading chaos and destruction in Kyou. Perhaps because they could not see into the depths of the canyons, few travelers fell victim to them here. Those lagging behind the main body had little to worry about.

  Hurrying though the wide gates that spanned the road, they entered a stone tunnel. Faint light spilled through the widely-spaced windows. Holes cut into the stone and mortar ceiling and topped with small roofs served as chimneys. Iron railings planted around the perimeter of the roofs warded off youma.

  Compared to the size of the tunnel, though, the lighting and ventilation was hardly enough. Above their heads, the earth rumbled to the sound of marching feet as the soldiers raced to their sentry posts.

  On this day, here they must hold their ground, not yield an inch, and not allow the youma to pour through the Reiken Gate and over the walls of Ken. Long years of preparation had reinforced Ken’s defensive lines.

  Even so, holding back the destruction in Ken, Kyou’s sole beachhead into the Yellow Sea, did not keep the youma from steadily invading Kyou. Nobody knew where the youma came from. They couldn’t fly over the Kongou Mountains and couldn’t pass through any of the Yellow Sea’s four gates except on one of those four days.

  Nevertheless, when destruction visited a kingdom, so did youma.

  Some said they knew secret tunnels through the Kongou Mountains that lead to each kingdom’s Ryou’un Mountain. Or the youma that spread wide and far retreated underground when a new emperor once again established peace and order. There they hibernated until they sniffed out ruin and decline and and flew forth like bats at sunset.

  Every theory was just as likely—and unlikely—as the next.

  “Ken is a city in a tough spot,” Shushou said, perched on the back of the haku as it wended its way through the tunnel.

  “The whole of Kyou is going to resemble Ken before long, except that few cities are as well protected.”

  “Why are there youma in the first place? If I was the Lord God Creator, I would exterminate all of them.”

  Gankyuu said with a wry smile, “So after the Imperial Throne, next comes the Throne of Heaven? You never know when to call it quits.”

  “Because nobody around here will step up and do what has to be done. It’s up to me to come up with these solutions.”

  “Well, then you’d better make sure the Yellow Sea doesn’t end up your graveyard.”

  “I am counting on you to watch out for me. That’s what I hired you for.”

  There’s no winning with this girl, Gankyuu sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

  A light appeared ahead of them. Not from flickering torches but the unwavering light of the sun. The tunnel exited inside the fort. The interior of the fort resembled a small village, halfway between a castle and a town. Around Gankyuu, travelers let out sighs of relief or took sharp breaths in surprise and wonder.

  “It’s amazing to find a whole city here.”

  “Not big enough to call it a city.”

  The streets were narrow, barely wide enough to allow a pair of harnessed horses to pass. Both sides were neatly lined by low, stone structures. Like the tunnel, skylights were cut into the stone awnings above the roads. It wasn’t dark, nor was it particularly bright.

  The humid air stagnated. The aging stones soaked up the heat particular to the Yellow Sea. The atmosphere was hardly comfortable, but truth be told, this was the end of “civilization.” Here a night’s lodgings got the traveler a roof over his head and a dirt floor under his feet. But lodgings, at the very least. And a square meal, however roughly made.

  The fort was originally built for the cavalry that protected Ken. Its benefits extended to ordinary travelers as well. Gankyuu and Shushou took advantage of those “benefits” too and spend a fitful night on a dirt floor.

  Perhaps because she’d been kept awake the night before by the cries of the gathering youma, Shushou’s face the next morning was a bit pallid. When Gankyuu suggested, last of all, that they visit a shrine, she went along out of curiosity. A crowd also making their final petitions for a safe journey line wound in a long line around the shrine in the small town.

  After a brief wait, Gankyuu and Shushou stood in front of the shrine. Not far from the shrine was a space just like the one in Ken, with people waiting there for the gates of the fort to open.

  Among them, two of the travelers spotted them and with surprised looks pointed fingers and gestured. Another man worked his way through the crowd to get a better look at Shushou’s face. Apparently, she was already a known presence in the fort.

  “What’s with the little kid?”

  “They together? You gotta be kidding me.”

  “I don’t believe it. She’s returning to Ken by noon, right? Just on some sightseeing jaunt.”

  Shushou cast a scornful glance at the source of the loudly-whispered asides, turned back to the cavern-like shrine and bowed. Covering the kindly face and armored torso of Kenrou Shinkun, the guardian angel of those venturing into the Yellow Sea, were layers of scarf-like shawls.

  “What are those shawls?” Shushou asked in a small voice.

  “The stories say that Shinkun wore armor made from the hide of a youma called a Ko, and wove jewels into the scarves so he could present them to the youma.”

  “Youma and youjuu have a hankering for jewels? And by youjuu, we’re talking about kijuu, right?”

  “It’d be more accurate to say that there’s a kijuu inside every youma. And inside every kijuu and youma is something that’s intoxicated by jewels.”

  “Intoxicated? Like when people drink too much alcohol?”

  “Something like that. I don’t really know myself. But they get tipsy the same as us humans. So it probably is like getting drunk.”

  “How strange. Not the kind of thing you learn in school.”

  “I’m not surprised. Books could be written about what we don’t know about youma and youjuu. Like the real difference between youma and youjuu. That’s a head scratcher too.”

  Shushou’ eyes opened a bit wider. She looked up at Gankyuu and said, “Youma attack people and youjuu don’t. Right?”

  “Well, that’s what passes for common knowledge. Catch a youjuu unprepared and they’ll attack you right back. Though they won’t single out a person and track him down.”

  “You don’t say—”

  “Among corpse hunters, it’s said that youma and youjuu started out the same. The different names simply apply to those that stalk human and those that don’t. But that doesn’t mean all youma especially hunt people. It’s also said the difference is that you can tame a youjuu but not a youma. But that doesn’t mean all youjuu can be turned into kijuu. Others say that when a kingdom descends into chaos, youma are the ones that come out of the woodwork, not youjuu. Except it’s not like youjuu never appear at times like that. What it comes down to is, you can’t domesticate youma. I’ve heard tales of hunters trying to catch and tame harmless mushi, but they die soon after being trapped. And when they die, it’s like they give off a signal and bigger ones come after them.”

  “I wonder why.”

  “Who knows? Youma that prowl around towns and cities don’t die. So it’s not like they’re vulnerable to human civilization. And despite dying when trapped, they’re still awfully hard to kill on purpose.”

  “Huh,” Shushou muttered, trailing after Gankyuu as they left the shrine behind.

  “Youma hunt humans. You really okay with that?”

  “Aren’t there any yaboku in the Yellow Sea?”

  Any creature finding refuge beneath the yaboku tree, whose fruit gave rise to beasts and birds in the wild countryside, was safe from any predatory youma or youjuu.

  “Nobody’s ever
seen a yaboku in the Yellow Sea. Then again, there aren’t any normal beasts or birds in the Yellow Sea either. There are corpse hunters who’ve searched for the yaboku that give rise to youjuu, but no one’s ever reported finding one.”

  “I see. If you could find a youjuu tree, you could pretty much dispense with hunting them.”

  “Same goes for youma. Find a yaboku and that’d make short work of it.”

  “Yeah,” said Shushou. Put a fence around the yaboku and kill them as soon as they’re born.”

  But then she grimaced. The riboku, whose fruit gave birth to children, and the yaboku were sacred trees. Any animal was safe beneath its branches. Not even a youma would attack anybody there. Such marvels demanded respect, it was said, and nobody should kill anything within view of one.

  “Youma probably aren’t ever little children. Ever heard of a baby youma?”

  “They don’t exist, or so people say.”

  “Really?”

  Gankyuu nodded. “I’ve never seen one. And never heard of one being seen.”

  “That is strange.”

  “The trees they’re born from; how long they live in the first place; why they’re all males; how intelligent they are; whether they understand human speech; where they well up from in times of trouble; what scents or indicators bring them to the surface—we don’t know the first thing about them. That ignorance makes it all the harder to protect ourselves.”

  “Huh,” Shushou muttered.

  Just then, a cheerful voice rang out. “Oh, good. I see you’ve arrived safely.”

  Shushou turned back toward the wall of people. “You—”

  Rikou waved from among the crowd of onlookers curiously regarding Shushou and Gankyuu.

  Shushou ran over to him, her eyes wide. “What are you doing in a place like this?”

  Rikou laughed. “Oh, I just had to find out whether you’d made it here in one piece. What happened to Hakuto?”

  Shushou’s head drooped. “After all the effort you went to securing me that certificate, he ended up getting stolen.”