Dragon Sword and Wind Child

by Noriko Ogiwara

  “Ah. So you’re all right.”

  “Yes. And you,” Chihaya replied. His soot-smeared clothes were scorched and riddled with holes. There was a black smudge on the bridge of his nose, but he seemed not to notice. He no longer looked like a heavenly maiden, and she was dismayed to see that his beautiful hair had been singed into frizzy brown tufts. Then she noticed that her own clothes were also scorched and burned along the edges.

  “What happened?” Saya asked. “Where’s the Sword?”

  “The main hall was burned to the ground. Smoke is still rising in the northern sky, so I suppose that it’s still burning. As for the Dragon Sword, it’s here. It sleeps after its rampage.” Chihaya pointed to the Sword lying upon the grass, its darkened blade grim in the pale morning light.

  “It seems so far,” Saya said in surprise, looking up at the sky to the north. “We’ve come a long way from the palace, then. How did you do it?” She tilted her head, perplexed. “And what about Torihiko?”

  Uncertainty crossed his face and he seemed unwilling to reply. Saya frowned anxiously but at that moment sensed someone approaching. Startled, she turned to see a tiny old woman with a large head appearing from the shadow of the bank. White hair haloed her head like thistledown.

  “Lady Iwa!” Saya exclaimed in surprise.

  “They came and helped us. We used their raft to float down the river until we reached this spot,” Chihaya explained.

  Unable to wait for the old woman’s short legs to carry her to them, Saya jumped up and ran to greet her. She knelt in front of her and looked into her face, demanding impatiently, “Lady Iwa, where’s Torihiko? What happened to him?”

  The old woman’s eyes filled with compassion and she stroked Saya’s cheek. “The brave boy was courageous to the end. He said to tell you not to cry but to wait for him.”

  “You mean—” Saya whispered. “There—in that cage . . . like that?”

  “We did our best, we and that young man over there. But there’s not much anyone can do when the Dragon Sword is dancing. Now, now, there’s no need to grieve. He’s just resting awhile with the Goddess.”

  “How can you tell me not to grieve?” Saya wailed, venting her anguish. “Why do you think I took the Sword in the first place? Why do you think I turned my back on Prince Tsukishiro? It was all for Torihiko—just to see him alive and well again.”

  She burst into tears and threw herself upon the grass. Even stamping the earth with her feet could not have assuaged her feelings. Torihiko had been burned alive in the iron cage, leaving only this show of courage behind. If she had just been a little stronger—if she had just tried a little harder, he could have been saved. But he had died alone because she was such a hopeless failure.

  The sky lightened and the sun shone down, evaporating the morning dew, yet Saya’s face was still wet with tears. Chihaya approached softly to see how she was. He seemed perplexed by her weeping.

  “Are you—hurt somewhere?” he asked hesitantly.

  “You can’t understand because you’ve got nothing to lose,” Saya said between sobs. “I’ve lost Torihiko. I’ll never see him again. He’s not here anymore.”

  Chihaya felt a shadow cross the sky and looked up. Black wings stood out like a stain on the blue sky.

  “Crows. Two crows. They’ve been circling us for a while.”

  “That must be Big Black and Little Black.” Saya looked up and felt fresh tears start to her eyes. “I bet they’re still looking for Torihiko.”

  “Sa–ya,” one of the crows called familiarly, and, folding its wings, it dove down out of the sky and landed on the grass with such force that it had to flap its wings and flutter about. It hopped right up to her and tilted its glossy black head. “Man, I’m tired! I searched all over for you. I never dreamed that you’d come this far.”

  Stunned at the bird’s eloquent speech, Saya stopped crying and stared.

  “It’s me,” the crow said, hopping onto her knee. “Didn’t you get my message? I told you not to cry, and to wait for me.”

  “Torihiko!” Saya shrieked, but could not say another word. She stared at the crow, which resembled a little demon with shining black eyes, too astounded to even consider whether she was happy or sad.

  “I had to think about it—whether to go to the Goddess or not. But I figured that the Goddess wouldn’t cry if she didn’t see me, whereas you would. So I gave up the idea of going. I decided to stay with you even if it means being a crow. It wasn’t very nice for Big Black, but I think he’d understand.”

  Saya looked at Chihaya, at a loss as to how to respond. “You?”

  Chihaya nodded. “But he’ll never be able to return to his original form. Because his body was burned.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Torihiko cried in a cheerful crow voice. “Did you know that crows live as long as human beings?”

  chapter

  four

  REVOLT

  Corpses fill the sea

  and the mountain grasses deep.

  I shall die by my emperor’s side;

  a peaceful death I will not seek.

  — Shoku Nihongi

  Revolt

  SOON AFTER THEY HAD successfully rescued Saya, Chihaya, and Torihiko, the infiltrators consisting of Lady Iwa, Lord Shinado, and two attendants discarded their raft and headed into the mountains. They followed the ridges, spending the night on one of the peaks, and continued walking the next day. In the afternoon, as they descended a mountain slope, they glimpsed the scenery far below them. The dense forest of pine and chinquapin ended abruptly at the mountain’s foot, and beyond it shone a bright band of water, bluer than the sky that met it at the horizon.

  “Is that the sea?” Saya asked Torihiko, who was perched on her shoulder. Even without having seen it before, she could guess what it was.

  “That’s right. We’ll take a boat from that inlet,” Torihiko replied. Once they reentered the shadow of the forest, they lost sight of the sea, but the head wind, which grew gradually stronger, carried the booming sound of water crashing on the rocks. The angry moaning of the sea set Saya’s nerves on edge. Perhaps it resembled the voice of the Dragon Sword in some way. But the roar of the waves summoned rain rather than fire. In the late afternoon the clouds began to thicken, and by dusk raindrops had already begun to fall. The wind buffeted the travelers, and a driving rain lashed their faces, showing no sign of abating.

  “I’m afraid we won’t be able to put to sea while this lasts,” Lord Shinado said to Lady Iwa. “We’ll have to wait out the storm on shore.”

  “That’s all right. We don’t seem to have been followed, which was my main worry. We can seek shelter in the village down in that cove.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to avoid being seen? What if this storm continues for several days . . . ?”

  “Don’t worry. This is nothing, no more than a baby crow’s temper tantrum. It’ll be over by tomorrow,” she replied confidently. “We got here in a night and a day. It can’t hurt to sleep in a little more comfort tonight.”

  Saya inwardly greeted Lady Iwa’s decision with wholehearted relief. They had traveled in such haste that she had had no chance to recover from the shock of what had happened in the palace. Her head was filled with a thick fog and everything seemed unreal. The dull pain in her aching feet and the weight of her drenched clothing seemed like keynotes in an endless nightmare, and she desperately needed time and rest in order to wake up and return to the real world.

  It was quite dark by the time the travelers reached the shore. They trudged along the bay, unable to light their way with a torch due to the howling wind, until they finally stumbled upon a row of houses. The yellow light of an oil lamp glimpsed through the cracks in one of the doors seemed the warmest, most welcoming sight in the world. One of the attendants negotiated with the head of the household and, when it was finally settled that the men would sleep in the shed and the women in the house, Saya could have cried in relief. The house was a low-roofed fisherman’s h
ut built over a sunken pit of sandy earth, and a pungent, fishy odor assailed them when they entered. The fisherman had brought in a net with scraps of seaweed clinging to it and appeared to be in the middle of mending it. Gutted fish had been strung together and hung around the smoke hole to dry. Perhaps because of the salt air, the round wooden pillars were badly decayed and the house creaked and shuddered with every gust of wind, but it did not come tumbling down. Despite their frugal lifestyle, the family with its many red-faced children was cheerful, and willingly served the guests bowls of hot soup with strips of dried fish. Saya’s clothes were barely dry, however, before her eyelids began to droop, and she could hardly taste the soup that passed her lips. She soon left the circle of laughing conversation and laid down in a corner, listening to the raging wind howl outside the thin wooden wall. It drowned out the voices within and bellowed, as if demanding something in a great loud voice of its own.

  Who? Where? Why? When? How?

  Who could it be talking to? she wondered vaguely, but as she listened to the endless questioning she drifted into a deep sleep.

  WHEN SHE OPENED HER EYES the next morning, the fisherman and his family had already finished breakfast and gone outside. They had been up since before dawn. Bereft of even the smallest child, the house appeared large and empty. Lady Iwa sat alone beside the hearth, her small hands moving busily as she worked on something. Saya crawled from her sleeping place and looked out the open door. The storm had passed as though it had never been, and the sky was clear. The fisherman’s family stood side by side and greeted the sun as it rose above the rocky crags in the distance. Saya’s heart ached as she watched their still figures from behind.

  Lady Iwa called to her. “There’s some rice porridge in the pot for you. You should eat it while it’s still hot.”

  Saya turned away from the door as if shaking herself free and removed the lid from a large cauldron hanging on the hearth hook. This was the sort of breakfast she used to eat at home. Sitting down with a bowl in her hand, she looked at what Lady Iwa was doing. The old woman had patiently hollowed out two pieces of wood and was now binding them together with wisteria vines.

  When Saya asked what the old woman was making, she casually replied, “A sheath. For the Sword. You can’t carry that blade unsheathed forever.”

  “Hmm,” Saya murmured noncommittally and glanced at the Sword, which lay nearby, thickly wrapped in cloth. The thought of it depressed her. Everyone feared it, even Lady Iwa and Lord Shinado. She, too, dreaded it as much as everyone else, yet they forced her to carry it, insisting that it must be guarded by the priestess. Having no alternative, she had wrapped it in cloth and carried it on her shoulder, but it was a cumbersome burden, constantly catching on thickets as they traveled along the mountain paths.

  Why was I chosen as Priestess of the Sword? Will I have to carry this thing with me for the rest of my life? What on earth is going to happen?

  She longed to ask Lady Iwa but kept losing her nerve. As she was rolling the questions about on the tip of her tongue, she sensed someone standing in the doorway. Looking over her shoulder, she saw an unknown youth and stared up at him suspiciously until she was able to discern his features against the backlight. Then she cried out in astonishment.

  “Chihaya? I didn’t recognize you!”

  Lord Shinado must have arranged it. Chihaya was dressed in a faded indigo jacket and knee-length trousers like those the fisherman and his children wore. His singed hair had been evenly trimmed and fastened in loops on either side of his head. Although he was perhaps a little too pale, to the casual observer he could pass for an ordinary boy. Saya was so pleased that she laughed aloud. It made her glad to think that Lord Shinado had noticed Chihaya’s ragged appearance. Since their first meeting, she had stood in awe of Lord Shinado. There was something in his dark face, rugged features, and piercing gaze that suggested he would be a hard judge of others, and despite the fact that he had come to her aid, she was afraid he would never forgive her for following the Light without a thought for her own people. This was one reason she had not yet told anyone how or why she had left the palace with Chihaya. And apparently it never even occurred to Chihaya to explain himself. Saya wondered at his reception by the people of Darkness. They did not reject him as he tagged along, but neither did they welcome him or ask him any questions. Rather, they ignored him, behaving as if he was not there. This had nagged at her mind, although she had had no energy left to spare for others. Chihaya’s new outfit, however, indicated that Lord Shinado and the others had accepted him as part of their group. “Not bad,” she teased him. “It suits you.”

  But Chihaya did not seem to hear. His appearance was of little interest to him. Instead, he began talking excitedly on a totally different subject.

  “The children ran off, saying that there’s a sea monster.”

  Saya blinked in surprise. “A sea monster? What’s that?”

  “I don’t know. They said it was washed ashore by the storm.” Chihaya’s innocent excitement was catching, and Saya turned to the old woman. “Can we go and see, too?”

  “It’s just a shark,” Lady Iwa said. “You can go, but the sea’s still rough. Be careful not to get swept away by the waves.” Saya practically flew out the door.

  The narrow spit of sand below the shallow terrace curved gently out to the headland, and waves pounded against it defiantly. The waves were a somber brownish green where they swelled and broke in a rush of noise, scattering white foam, but out to sea they were a sparkling blue. Their sharp-peaked crests rose steeply and raced toward land. For the first time in her life, Saya stood at the edge of the sea. Unlike the endless expanse of blue that she had seen from a distance, the ocean at close range seemed like a live and cunning creature on whom it would be unwise to turn one’s back. The smell of the wind was unfamiliar and it, too, seemed shrewd and intelligent. And yet she felt that she had known this scent even before she was born. Birds wheeled in the sky above, and she heard their plaintive cries carried on the wind.

  The smell of the sea was even sharper as they walked along the beach strewn with debris from the previous night’s storm: brilliantly colored seaweed, driftwood, various species of small fish, jellyfish, and starfish. Saya did not recognize half of them. Women and children, baskets in hand, gathered them busily. Saya wanted to stop and pick things up to look at them, but she had no chance because Chihaya kept walking without a second glance.

  “Isn’t the sea new to you?”

  “This is the first time that I’ve ever seen it with my own eyes, but . . .” he replied.

  As she knew only too well what he meant by this, she did not bother to question him further.

  Soon they saw a group of boys chattering excitedly. Knee-deep in the surf, they were gathered around a large black object that had run aground on the beach. Coming closer, Saya saw that it was a huge shark twice the length of an average man. It lay on its side with its pectoral fin piercing the sky, looking like a small hill with a flag perched upon it. Its belly was the hideous color of a corpse, and the long teeth protruding from its V-shaped jaws sent shivers up Saya’s spine. Bereft of emotion, its eye, which seemed small for its body, stared blankly at the sky. She grimaced at the sight. It was obviously a monster from another world, not something that should be exposed thus to the light of day. She felt nauseated but was not sure if it was from disgust or pity.

  Beside her Chihaya whispered in awe, “What a beautiful creature.”

  Saya looked at him in astonishment. “Beautiful?”

  “Beautiful, and strong. Look at the line of his body. Think how fast this fish could swim underneath the waves . . .”

  Chihaya pointed at its pectoral fin, and at that very moment it moved. Then the shark’s flank undulated and its thick tail thrashed weakly against the sand. The children shrieked and leaped away.

  “It’s still alive!”

  “Let’s get the others.”

  Although she did not scream, Saya clutched Chihaya’s arm so
hard her nails dug in. “Look out! It’s alive! Move back.”

  Chihaya, however, stood rooted to the spot. He stared wide-eyed, his gaze riveted on the shark. Saya, realizing that something was wrong, tried to shake him, but his body was so rigid it did not budge.

  “Chihaya!” she screamed, putting her mouth to his ear. But her voice did not reach him. He was listening to a different voice.

  “GREETINGS, O young and solitary god. I am the God of the Sea who abides in the ocean’s depths beneath the eternal waves. This creature is the bearer of my message.”

  “Are you one of the many gods of the earth?” Chihaya asked.

  “In some ways, yes; in others, no. For neither the powers of the Darkness nor of the Light can reach me. In that sense, I am most like you.”

  After pondering this for a moment, Chihaya said, “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I’m—”

  But the God of the Sea ignored him.

  “I send this message of encouragement, for I saw you upon my shore. I can do no more. As a mere onlooker, I am powerless to lend a hand concerning your bitter fate. There are but two paths to choose from, and both are cruel. To slay your father, or to be slain by him—a hard choice indeed.”

  Taken aback, Chihaya wondered what on earth the god meant.

  “Although it’s no concern of mine, this shore borders on my territory. I’ll be watching the road you take. O solitary god, unique in Toyoashihara, I send this message, for I also am alone. Tread carefully, so that you are left with no regrets.”

  “WAIT!” Chihaya cried. “Please!”

  But the ancient voice faded away, and instead he heard Saya’s voice calling his name so loudly that it hurt his ear. He blinked and saw her standing right in front of him, her eyes filled with alarm and her face pale with anxiety.