Dragon Sword and Wind Child

by Noriko Ogiwara

  Placing his hand on the horse’s shoulder, he gazed at him tenderly. Morning Star lowered his head and began grazing on some thistle flowers, heedless of the prickles.

  “And it doesn’t matter to you that storehouses were razed and people slain so long as you have Morning Star?” Saya pressed him.

  Chihaya paused and finally said, “To gain something, you must lose something first. I think that this is probably true for everyone. Just as I lost my other dreams the night that I found Morning Star.”

  Saya gazed at him inquiringly. “You mean you can no longer dream?”

  Chihaya nodded slightly, his expression hard. It was the first time she had ever seen him look this way, as though contemplating a bitter memory. “I will never dream again. For I can never again forget who I am. I realized that when I couldn’t escape from the pain.”

  Saya felt a stab of remorse. Knowing that Chihaya had the power of renewal, neither she nor Lord Akitsu had given him much thought. It had never occurred to them that an immortal would feel the same pain as a mortal when wounded. Although he had borne an injury that would have killed an ordinary man, he had had to nurse his pain alone with none to comfort him.

  Saya asked quietly, “Are you sorry? That you came to join us?”

  She thought that she could understand a little what he had lost. It was like the snow-white robe that he had been wearing when she first met him. After she had lured him out into the real world, it had become so soiled that he could never wear it again.

  Chihaya, however, looked at her in surprise. “Why should I be sorry? Morning Star is here, and so are you.” Saya was somewhat relieved, although a little annoyed that he put his horse before her.

  AS SOON as he was certain that they had secured a sufficient foothold, Lord Akitsu resumed the advance. The army traveled south and captured Kamioyama Pass, a strategic point on the road running east–west. This road was a major thoroughfare, along which passed all tribute from the districts connected to Mahoroba. Moreover, they captured the pass just as tribute for the year’s harvest festival was being hurried toward the capital, and all of it fell into their hands. At the same time, they had to destroy every shrine in the neighborhood and shatter the mirrors within them in order to delay the news from reaching the forces of Light. Although Saya felt that the anxiety she experienced each time a mirror was broken took years off her life, no other raging gods appeared, despite Chihaya’s presence. It was unclear if this was due to her ability to pacify the gods, but she was content to believe that it was the result of her fervent prayers.

  Having at last located the enemy’s position, the Palace of Light sent out a punitive force. The area around the pass was engulfed in fighting, so that none dared approach it. Although the battle was prolonged, the army of Darkness clearly had the advantage. They were skilled in swift sorties and surprise attacks that exploited the mountainous terrain in which they were most at home. Materializing unexpectedly, they attacked in small bands and then disappeared again like phantoms.

  Relying on the force of numbers, the generals leading the army of Light poured in constant reinforcements, but in the end they were forced to retreat. Saya and Natsume had been removed from the front to Asakura when the fighting became intense, and there they had anxiously wrung their hands. At the news of the victory, however, they rejoined the other troops, laughing with the soldiers and clapping their hands for joy. For the first time Saya understood how people can grow accustomed to war. Intensified by the stark contrast between life and death, fleeting moments of joy such as these could make one almost mad with happiness. United by the bond of life, friends grew closer, much more so than in the ordinary world. To Saya, there was no one as beloved as each and every returning soldier, whether he was dressed in rags, caked in filth, or stained with blood.

  One day, the news reached them that Lord Shinado, who had been making for the western border, had thoroughly routed an expeditionary force awaiting the arrival of Princess Teruhi, and that he was now pressing relentlessly eastward. A runner was dispatched immediately, and he returned bearing the message that Lord Shinado’s forces would join up with Lord Akitsu’s army within a few days.

  “What speed! He’s well named the ‘keen-eyed hawk,’ ” Lord Akitsu said with a pleased smile. “This must have thrown the palace into a frenzy. But it’s too late. By the time the immortals start moving, our army will be large enough to match them.”

  The soldiers were inspired by Lord Shinado’s heroic feat, and morale soared. Saya, who stood apart watching the soldiers as they sang rousing songs with their arms around one another’s shoulders, was surprised to see the messenger head her way when he had finished reporting to Lord Akitsu.

  “Lord Shinado bade me bring this to you, my lady,” he said. He gave her a package attached to a branch thick with dark green leaves. Taking it in her hands, she smelled a sharp, fresh fragrance. Several round yellow fruit nestled among the leaves. Tachibana oranges—she had heard of them, the poet’s “ever-fragrant fruit.” Opening the package, she found a necklace of bright green beads inside.

  “Why this—for me?” she asked without thinking.

  “I am not the man of whom you should ask that question, my lady,” the messenger answered in some embarrassment. Saya blushed and chided herself for her thoughtlessness. Yet she could not understand it. She had only talked to Lord Shinado a few times, and those conversations had not been particularly pleasant.

  The messenger bowed respectfully and said solemnly, “He asked after your Ladyship’s health.”

  Saya, feeling strangely flustered, took the parcel to her quarters and put it away in her wicker trunk. It’s odd, she thought, but I can’t be glad. Why does that man make me feel so uncomfortable?

  SEVERAL DAYS LATER, Lord Shinado’s army joined them as arranged and without incident. Their mobility was impressive, demonstrating Lord Shinado’s tactical skill. Although Saya saw him for the first time in a long while, far from alleviating her confusion, the sight of him only served to increase it. She could not bring herself to meet his eyes even though she knew that her behavior must appear unnatural. It was impossible, however, to avoid him forever. Once quarters had been set up for the new soldiers, Lord Akitsu summoned Lord Shinado and Saya privately. When they reached his heavily guarded camp, he made sure that everyone else was cleared from the area before relating to Lord Shinado the details of Chihaya’s encounter with the earth god.

  “There’s no telling what may come of this. It could happen again. Frankly, I don’t know how we can hold Chihaya in check. What’s your opinion?”

  “This type of indecision isn’t like you. How can you expect any encounter between a Prince of Light and the gods of the earth to end peacefully?” Lord Shinado said bluntly.

  “I know, but we still can’t ignore what Lady Iwa said. She called on us to find in Chihaya one who would wield the Dragon Sword on our behalf.”

  “But if he kills the gods, all our efforts will be in vain. And besides, there’s no telling when the wrath of the gods will fall upon us if we harbor someone like him in our midst.”

  Lord Akitsu stroked his chin. “Yes, I’ve been worried about that, too. Still, Chihaya hasn’t caused us any harm.”

  “A Prince of Light causing no harm?” Lord Shinado said with a grimace. “He’s immortal. That alone is a rejection of everything that lives in Toyoashihara. He deserves to be cursed.”

  Unable to restrain herself, Saya burst out, “It’s not his fault that he can’t die, so how can you reproach him for that? Surely our people aren’t so narrow-minded as to shun him just because he differs in this one respect.”

  Lord Shinado said with a cold politeness, “My lady, you appear to be confused. Can’t you see that the immortals’ powers of renewal threaten our very existence? They seek to create a deathless land in Toyoashihara, removing obstacles like us as though pulling up weeds.”

  Saya, at a loss for words, was sorry that she had opened her mouth. Lord Akitsu carefully brought
the conversation back to the original topic. “For the moment, we must concentrate on stilling the wrath of the gods against Chihaya and pressing forward. As it stands, we can’t even get near those gods whose powers we seek to release.”

  Lord Shinado frowned. “Of course, the most effective way to appease the gods is to offer a sacrifice . . .”

  “But we can’t sacrifice Chihaya. He can’t die. You know that.”

  “Have you ever thought of trying?” Lord Shinado said flippantly, but then continued seriously. “Even if we don’t go that far, Chihaya should at least be imprisoned. Regardless of whether or not he’s the Wind Child, he is, in fact, our hostage.”

  “Hmm,” the one-eyed lord grunted, pondering the problem. It was obvious that he had heard such advice before.

  Furious, Saya shouted, “No! If you do that, we’ll lose Chihaya. Can’t you see?”

  The two men looked at her in surprise.

  “Why do you think Chihaya came here in the first place? Why do you think he stays? Because he was kept imprisoned the whole time he was in the Palace of Light and never given the chance to feel the wind, the earth, the grass. Will we subject him to the same cruel treatment as the people of Light? Taking away his freedom—using him—without even trying to understand him?”

  Lord Shinado said in a low voice, “Our first duty is to free the children of the Goddess, the earth gods. Concerning yourself with an immortal when the gods wish otherwise is to invite their wrath.”

  Saya turned away, sweeping back her hair, and said defiantly, “If you’re trying to say that I failed in my task of appeasing the gods, then you’re right. It was my fault. Because I couldn’t stop the Dragon Sword. But in that case, it doesn’t make sense for you to condemn Chihaya. Why don’t you take me and offer me as a sacrifice instead?”

  Lord Akitsu intervened. “There’s no need to get so riled up. Especially you, Saya, as Priestess.” Saya looked somewhat ashamed after this mild rebuke and he added, “Still, I can understand why you feel angry. Let’s wait a little longer and see what happens before we decide what to do with Chihaya. After all, it only happened that one time. Your power as priestess must be having some effect.”

  Although the meeting had been short, Saya was exhausted. She was about to hurry back to her quarters when someone called out to her from behind. It was Lord Shinado. He stood, arms folded, beside a slender red pine tree. Saya stopped and turned, feeling uncomfortable. She remembered with embarrassment that she had not yet thanked him for his gift. “The other day, I didn’t deserve such a—”

  “Never mind that,” he interrupted abruptly, yet he did not seem angry. Rather, his tanned face bore the expression of one deep in thought. “How can you defend someone like him?”

  Hiding her surprise, she replied, “Because I have no reason to hate him. I feel sorry for him. He seemed unhappy in the palace.”

  “Unhappy? What we call happiness or unhappiness can only be measured by standards of our own making. And those standards don’t apply to what the immortals feel. You spend too much time worrying about them. And your concern is in vain. Take an honest look at Chihaya. He has less compassion or capacity than even the most ordinary of men.”

  His words struck a little too close to home. “How would you know?” Saya retorted. “I know him better than you do.”

  “If you think about the meaning of the word ‘compassion,’ it’s obvious,” Lord Shinado replied emphatically. “How could someone who doesn’t know death know true fear, true separation, true sorrow? How could they possibly understand the bonds that join our hearts together, or sympathy or consideration for others? It’s the very knowledge that someday we must die that makes us love one another when close, and long for one another when apart. Isn’t that so?”

  She could not refute this argument. She felt miserable, as though she had been severely reprimanded, yet she did not want to admit to herself that what he said was true. With downcast eyes, she said in a subdued tone, “But is the fact that he can’t return such feelings sufficient reason to reject him so cruelly? I don’t think that’s what compassion means.”

  Lord Shinado stirred and unfolded his arms. Changing his tone suddenly, he said, “Why is it that whenever we talk to each other, we end up arguing? Still, what you just said is right.”

  She raised her face and found him gazing at her steadily. “I know it all too well. For I’m not without compassion myself.”

  She was disconcerted and, even to her own ears, her voice sounded lifeless. “Forgive my rudeness . . .”

  “No, there’s no need to apologize.” He turned away, and, as he was leaving, he said in a low voice, “You should wear the necklace. The color of jade would suit you.”

  Saya returned to her quarters in confusion. Although Natsume asked what had happened, she could not bring herself to tell anyone.

  2

  THE ARMY OF DARKNESS had become such an imposing force that it now proceeded east without any attempt at concealment. And all along the way, people joined its ranks, either won over by conciliation or subdued by military might. Some powerful clans even removed the shrine mirrors themselves once they learned which way the wind was blowing. The storm raised by the passing of the army of Darkness exposed something these people had been too dazzled by the Light to see. During the long years of their infatuation with immortality and eternal youth, which exacted continuous offerings, their lands had become utterly exhausted. Many had groaned under the burden imposed by heavy tributes, and this had been compounded by the annually decreasing harvests.

  By now there were none in Toyoashihara who did not know the names of Lord Akitsu, commander in chief, and his resourceful general, Lord Shinado. Their ranks swelled with deserters from the enemy camp. The Prince and the Princess of Light, who remained in Mahoroba, sent general after general to oppose them, but nothing could stop the army of Darkness as it advanced toward the capital like a storm cloud covering the sun. At the same time, reports reached the army of Darkness that Lord Ibuki, who had been inciting small-scale insurrections in the east, had brought his troops together to form a single company and was marching west to meet them.

  Upon receiving this news, Lord Akitsu told his commanders, “Once we have joined Lord Ibuki, our forces will be complete, and we’ll be able to overthrow Mahoroba. The eastern front is heavily protected and there is as yet no crack in their defenses. The outcome will depend on whether we can break through the wall to unite with Lord Ibuki. If we succeed, our victory is almost assured. Now is the time to give full play to our military might.”

  Under his orders, an unprecedented and ferocious attack was launched. The army split into five, then eight battalions, and advanced against the army of Light, which was strengthening strategic points. Their maneuvers were so complex that it seemed impossible that they could still be controlled. The battle raged for three days and three nights, and after a brief respite fighting erupted again and continued for another three days. Saya, who naturally remained with the rear guard, was more worried about Chihaya than about herself. He was fighting alongside Lord Akitsu, but when the army split and then split again she lost track of his whereabouts. He had disappeared before in the midst of battle and had always come riding nonchalantly back astride Morning Star; however, they had never yet been separated for this long, and she was uneasy.

  The next day a rider brought the glad tidings that the two leaders, Akitsu and Shinado, riding side by side, had breached the last defenses of the army of Light. The anxious faces of the soldiers in the rear guard lit up. At the same time, however, a message from Lord Akitsu reached Saya that filled her heart with foreboding. She was requested to join him secretly at the front line.

  Pausing only to gather essentials, she spurred on her mount and left with the messenger. As they cut across the battlefield, where the smoke from smoldering grass still lingered, the heart-wrenching sight of the spears and helmets of fallen soldiers drew her eyes. Troops slowly making their way back as they cared for their wo
unded looked up in surprise at the sound of pounding hoofbeats. But Saya made no attempt to slow her horse, for if she allowed herself to look at the young soldiers, dead or wounded, she was afraid that she would not be able to go on.

  The camp to which the messenger guided her was in a copse at the entrance to a valley. Shields were planted in a circle around it, just as they would have been during a battle. Horses were tethered outside the circle, and Saya was startled to see Morning Star tied to a tree trunk, apart from the herd. “Well, what’s happened to your companion?”

  Morning Star snorted when he caught sight of her. He looked disconsolate, but when without thinking she approached him, he suddenly bared his long teeth as though to bite her mount and she had to back off.

  Lord Akitsu himself came out to meet her and led her into a tent. Saya, too impatient to waste time on greetings, immediately demanded, “What is it? Did something happen to Chihaya?”

  The one-eyed lord looked exhausted, and even in the dim twilight his face appeared haggard. In a low, weary voice he replied, “It was two days ago. We were moving to a new position when we were unexpectedly attacked from behind. They shot arrows in our direction and fled—more like the way we used to fight—but Chihaya was hit. An arrow pierced his heart.”

  Saya paled but remained calm. “And what happened to him? He didn’t die, surely?”

  “Of course not. Renewal began. Although for some time he appeared to be dead . . .”

  He lifted a curtain and allowed Saya to pass under it. It was dark within and she could see nothing until a lamp was lit. Then, as the flickering yellow glow illuminated the surroundings, she saw Chihaya lying half-hidden by piles of armor.

  “He looks like he’s just sleeping now. It’s hard to believe until you actually see it—this turning back of time.”

  Chihaya slept, a peaceful expression on his face, and his bare chest rose and fell gently. Although there was a faint red bruise on his left side, it could no longer be called a wound.