As she hesitated, unable to decide, a third voice rose in song nearby:
I have come upon you in a crowd,
You whom I long to meet in a quiet place.
Saya and Mahito gasped in shock and spun around. For a third person to interrupt before a girl had replied was a direct challenge to the first suitor and could only cause trouble. People with any common sense stuck to the rules of etiquette. Mahito was understandably furious, and an angry flush suffused his face.
“Just who do you think you are? You’re asking for trouble!”
“Wait!” Seeing his nostrils flare, Saya recalled his former career as the village bully and hurriedly intervened. The interloper was a slender young boy. When she peered closely at his face, her mouth dropped open in amazement. It was none other than the impertinent little rascal who was supposed to be playing the flute. “You! What are you doing!”
“Get home to bed, brat. You don’t belong here!” Mahito snarled threateningly, his breathing ragged.
Torihiko smiled up at them. If he had not been so young, his expression could have been described as bold and fearless. “What about the song, Saya?” he urged. “If you answer one of us, there will be no need to fight.”
Flustered, Saya looked from one to the other. Then in despair she sang:
If you truly love me, then come.
For surely you will find me waiting,
Alone, in the quiet wood.
“Saya!” Mahito cried in disbelief. “Why? Why did you answer him?”
She felt miserable. “I’m sorry. I just can’t reply to your song. Go look for the girl who has eyes only for you. I know you’ll find her.” She turned and left, almost running away, feeling deeply disappointed.
Why do I have to be so nice?
A SIGH ESCAPED her lips. She was fed up with the Kagai, with this game of courtship and love, to which she had once looked forward so eagerly. The interplay of flame and shadow made her dizzy, and she turned toward the shadows of the trees, hoping to calm her mind in the concealing dark. Not until she had passed the boundary of the glade marked by the straw rope and paper ornaments did she realize that the boy had followed her. She glared at him.
“Just in case you’re wondering, I have no intention of accepting any gift from you. Mahito was right. You’re just a child! Why did you leave the musicians’ platform?”
The boy rolled his eyes in exasperation. His eyes gleamed in the faint light of the moon that filtered through the branches.
“And I thought you might even thank me! After all, I came to your rescue when you were in trouble.”
He’s such a strange boy, she thought. How had he known that she was in trouble? Had he been watching her the whole time?
“Your name’s Torihiko, isn’t it?” she said slowly.
“Yes.”
“How did you know I wasn’t born in this village?”
“I just knew,” he said, clasping his hands behind his head and looking insufferably smug. “After all, we came here to find you.”
Struggling to keep her voice calm, Saya replied, “If you continue to make fun of me, I’m going to lose my patience. I’m not in a particularly good mood, as you may have noticed.”
“Oh my, you frighten me,” he responded. Adopting a slightly less irreverent attitude, he continued, “But it’s the truth, you see. We came looking for a girl who disappeared from a village burned to the ground at Princess Teruhi’s command nine years ago. The girl was six years old and had a red birthmark on her right palm. That mark was proof that she was born clasping an amulet, a magatama that made her the rightful successor, the rebirth of Princess Sayura.”
“Stop,” Saya whispered.
“Princess Sayura is one of the highborn among those who serve the Goddess of Darkness; it is she who guards the Dragon Sword—”
“I said stop!” Saya shouted, cutting him off in mid-sentence. She shook her head violently, sending a flower flying from her hair. “I don’t want to hear any more! Go away! I said go!”
Torihiko winced at this outburst, and said reproachfully, “You could, at least, refrain from yelling at me as though I were some unwanted cur. I may not look it, but I’m quite a bit older than you.”
Saya turned on her heel and tried to run back to the Kagai, back to the familiar faces of the people she knew, people who understood laughter and tears. But no matter how far she ran, she seemed to move deeper and deeper into the dark forest. The glade with its bright fire should be just a few steps away, just past that tree, but still it did not come into view. Changing direction made no difference. No matter which way she ran, only the silence of the mountain forest rose up to greet her. Finally she came to a halt and clung to the trunk of a tree. She steadied her breathing, trying to control her panic.
Calm down, she thought. It’s useless to fight it.
“There is nothing to fear.” It was the tiny old woman. “You have the power to believe. You can accept what Torihiko has told you.”
There. You see, Saya told herself.
She pressed her back against the tree, bracing herself for whatever might come. There before her in the darkness stood the five musicians, wrapped in a pale phosphorescent glow. She knew then that she was finally facing what had filled her with terror for so many years. Having no other choice, she drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She was no longer afraid. Perhaps her calm arose from sheer desperation, or perhaps she was just numb. No, she was far from numb. Rather, she was consumed with a smoldering rage. Staring evenly at the five figures, she said coldly, “So you are demons, after all.”
The old woman, who stood in front, regarded Saya steadily with no change in expression. “No, we’re not demons,” she answered calmly. “We are at least as close to you as the people gathered for the Kagai.”
“And our feelings can be hurt, too,” added Torihiko, who stood directly behind the old woman.
The one-eyed man began to speak. “This is Lady Iwa,” he said. “And I am Lord Akitsu.” Gesturing toward the largest of them, he continued, “This is Lord Ibuki, and those two are Lord Shinado and Torihiko. We are all servants of the Goddess of Darkness.”
They’re Ground Spiders! Saya thought.
The possibility that she, too, might be a Ground Spider made her wish that the earth would open up and swallow her. No! her heart rebelled. No, no! It can’t be. I love the light. I love the flowers, the sky, the clouds, everything that lives beneath the sun!
“Saya, listen,” said Lady Iwa. “Do you know the legend of how earth and heaven were formed? The story of the God and Goddess who gave birth to the world? Together, they created the land of Toyoashihara, and hundreds of thousands of gods to populate it. These gods lived in the mountains, the rivers, the rocks, the springs, the wind, and the ocean, and shook the earth with their laughter. But the last child born to the Goddess was the fire god, and she was so horribly burned that she fled and concealed herself in the underworld. In his grief and anger, the God of Light killed the fire god and went to the Land of the Dead to bring her back. But, horrified at how changed she had become, he fled back to the world above, sealing the entrance with a huge stone and severing his ties with her forever. From that time onward they have lived separately in heaven and the underworld, despising one another.”
“They divided into the forces of Light and Darkness,” Saya said sullenly. “Anyone born in Toyoashihara knows that. The Goddess cursed the land and vowed she would kill one thousand people each day. The God responded that he would build one thousand five hundred birthing huts a day. He is the Great God of Light, who bathes this world in light, nurturing life. And his sacred children are Princess Teruhi and Prince Tsukishiro.”
“Does he really nurture life?” the old woman countered in a strangely gentle voice. “Surely it is the earth that nurtures life. And it is water that revives the earth. Water falls from above, quenching all the land, and, in the end, flows into the underworld. That is the road to the Goddess, the road that all living things on the earth will one
day tread. Our land of Toyoashihara is dependent upon the eternal flow of water. If this cycle is disrupted, it will stagnate, and evil and corruption will be left unchecked.”
Touched by a sudden sadness, Saya looked up, but Lady Iwa’s eyes were lowered. Saya was surprised to find herself sympathizing with this old woman who resembled some kind of apparition. It was her vulnerability rather than her ugliness that stood out. She looked like a clumsy fledgling not yet able to fly, waiting patiently to be rescued.
Lady Iwa continued. “In his hatred and anger, however, the God of Light sealed off the road to the underworld. And through his immortal children, Princess Teruhi and Prince Tsukishiro, he rules the earth, hunting down and destroying the gods of the mountains and rivers that he conceived with the Goddess. He intends to destroy all the gods and rule the earth alone, to claim Toyoashihara through slaughter and plunder.”
“No! You’re wrong!” Saya protested hotly. “That’s not true. There’s nothing wrong with trying to shed light over all the world and unite it under one ruler. The war is caused by stubborn people who refuse to recognize how precious his light is. It’s because some people don’t want peace—”
She was interrupted by a voice of steel. It was the first time that she had heard Lord Shinado speak. Although he was the youngest of the three men, there was something in his bearing and in his eyes reminiscent of a keen-edged sword.
“How can you be so heartless? This God of Light that you worship murdered your own father and mother. Flames and horses’ hooves trampled your village into the ground. By the time we reached it, there was not one soul left alive. His two immortal children feel nothing, not even as much remorse as a dewdrop evaporating in the morning sun. Yet you would still worship them? Will you choose comfort and ease over revenge against the enemies of your own parents?”
Saya shuddered. Perhaps it was this that she had most feared. But there was something within her that would not yield, that could not back down. She realized that she was stronger than she had thought.
“I don’t want to hate,” she replied in a small voice. If she was afraid, it was only of Lord Shinado himself, for she was certain of what she said. “I have a new mother and father. They found me and raised me like their own child. I am not heartless. It’s just that I prefer to love rather than to hate.”
“Hmmm. She reminds me of Princess Sayura,” muttered the huge Lord Ibuki. Although he was talking to himself, his voice rumbled like thunder.
Lady Iwa nodded in agreement. “Yes, she said the same thing. We’re not saying that you shouldn’t be drawn to the Light, Saya. But we must fight. We must prevent the God of Light from destroying all the gods of the land. He has no regard for or understanding of human feelings. He strives to purify the entire earth and to descend upon it. But he neither knows nor cares whether there will be any people left alive when all the gods of river and mountain have disappeared from the land. He cannot understand what this would mean to us.”
Lord Akitsu raised his jet-black brows and gazed at Saya. “Water Maiden, come and help us fight. Though you may be weak, you are closest to our mother, the Goddess. You are even capable of grasping the Dragon Sword.”
All five of them watched her intently from the darkness, awaiting her reply. Her heart was in turmoil, but she knew it would be useless to try to deceive them. At last she said what was in her heart. “I hate war. I can’t do it.”
Their disappointment struck her keenly, and somehow she felt a need to defend herself a little. “Why didn’t you come sooner? I’ve lived here, in a village of the God of Light, for nine years. Every day I have worshiped Princess Teruhi and Prince Tsukishiro. It’s impossible for me to change now, so suddenly.”
After a short pause, Lady Iwa replied, “In their youth, no one realizes that the trees that stretch toward the sky are, at the same time, sending their roots deeper and deeper into the earth. Because we’re granted a new life, we, the reborn, must each time experience the ignorance of youth. For this reason we can’t tell others of their mission until they are ready. It has been the custom to gather together when the time comes and seek them out. In your case, however, you’re right. You disappeared without a trace, and it took much longer than we expected to find you. But despite the danger, we have come into the domain of the God of Light to find you. Still, we can’t blame you for that.”
She felt for something inside her robe and then stretched her tiny hand out toward Saya. “We must leave you now. Our pursuers will have found our trail by now. But this is yours. Whether in the end you use it or not, it belongs to you.”
Without a word, Saya held out both hands to receive a small stone, a magatama no larger than the tip of her finger, still glowing faintly with the phosphorescence from the old woman’s palm. It was not round like a ball but slightly flat and curved like the outer rim of an ear. The larger end was pierced by a hole through which ran a thin cord. The stone was a smooth, milky blue, the pale, gentle color of a spring sky.
Without warning, the murmur of voices and leaves rustling gently in the wind returned, and Saya realized that she had been in a space without sound. As if waking from a dream, she looked about her and glimpsed firelight from the glade between the black silhouettes of the trees. The musicians were gone. No doubt she would never see them again. The demons had materialized only to vanish just as suddenly as they had appeared, without trying to do anything. Clutching the magatama in her hand, she thought distractedly, “I must go. I have to get back to the Kagai.”
But she had only taken a few steps when she realized that there was nowhere for her to go. Her parents were at home, and her friends had split up and were lost in conversation with their partners. The night was far advanced, and the sound of high-pitched laughter drifted across the glade from the banquet areas of each village. No one else was alone.
A yawning gulf suddenly separated Saya from everyone else. Somewhere in her heart, she had always known that she did not belong, but, unwilling to accept it, she had managed to ignore it. Now, however, she could no longer deny the truth. The demons had been gentle, but only because they had indelibly impressed their mark upon her. Turning away from the brightly lit glade, she headed deeper into the forest. And as she walked, the tears she had held back for so long began to fall.
IT SEEMED that her tears would never run dry. She wept as she walked and walked as she wept, oblivious of her direction. Saya, who rarely cried, did not know how to stop. Finally, exhausted, she sat down on a fallen log to rest when suddenly the tree beside her spoke.
“Why do you weep?” it asked.
The voice was pleasant, like a breeze sighing through the treetops, and it sounded so natural that she replied without thinking, “Because I am all alone.”
“You could find no lover?”
“More alone than that.”
At that moment she heard another voice whisper tensely from the far side of the thick grove of trees. She craned her neck in surprise and peered into the darkness.
“It’s just one of the village maidens crying. There’s no cause for concern,” the first voice answered quietly.
The shadows beneath the cedars were so thick that it was impossible to tell if anyone was there. Saya sniffed loudly, an action she regretted immediately, and asked suspiciously, “Who are you?”
At last she saw something move and a figure stepped out from the trees into the moonlight. He was tall and graceful, like a young cypress tree. Beneath the white light of the full moon, it was clear that he was more than just an ordinary man—far more. Saya caught her breath and froze. She had thought that nothing more could surprise her after the events of that evening, but now she doubted her own eyes, sure that she must be dreaming. On his head he wore the same silver helmet that she had so often imagined, shining with the radiance of a hundred moons.
Before her stood Prince Tsukishiro himself.
3
THE PRINCE stood bathed in moonlight—a silver statue in a trough of darkness amid the rustling leav
es. Though he appeared phantomlike, his presence was palpable. His feet were just as firmly rooted to the ground as the surrounding mountains. Yet he was far too beautiful to be human. Saya felt the hair rise along the nape of her neck and realized for the first time that this sensation could be caused by something other than fear.
The Prince was armed for battle, wearing chain mail, helmet, and gauntlets, with a quiver slung across his back and a long sword resting at his hip. The clothes beneath his armor were white, his shirtsleeves bound by cords ornamented with small beads. His face under the shining helmet was fine-featured, with an aquiline nose and exquisitely gentle eyes. He exuded an air of refinement and grace, while at the same time radiating an awe-inspiring strength, an overwhelming power such that, just by standing there, he caused the night to change its shape and the forest its fragrance.
Saya was so lost in admiration that she completely forgot he could see her face clearly, too. By the time she came to her senses and covered her face with her sleeve, Prince Tsukishiro had already had plenty of time to inspect her.
“Why do you hide your face?” he chided gently.
“I was crying.” She was so embarrassed. She blushed behind her sleeve to think how awful she must look.
“I know. You cried a long time.” His voice held the hint of a smile. It had a beautiful timbre.
“Lift up your face.” Although his tone was gentle, his words commanded. Saya obeyed him automatically, before she had even had time to think.
As she gazed up at him, he said, “Are you not the Water Maiden?”
Saya recoiled as if she had been slapped in the face. Her eyes grew to twice their size. “How . . . how do you know that name?”
His eyes were hidden now in the shadow of his visor. But his voice remained gentle. “I know a maid with a face like yours. No, I knew her . . . a long time ago. It was just a short while, but she lived in my palace at Mahoroba.”
Dragon Sword and Wind Child Page 3
