“Oh, thank goodness. There was nothing to worry about, then,” Saya said in a cheerful voice, but she regretted it as soon as she saw Lord Akitsu’s face. “Is something wrong?”
With a grim expression, he replied, “Everyone saw it. They saw Chihaya ‘die.’ If he returns as though nothing happened, they’ll demand an explanation. Rumors will spread. Soon the whole army will know that he’s an immortal Prince of Light.”
Startled, Saya looked at Chihaya. But his sleeping face was like that of an innocent child, and as she gazed at it, she felt reassured.
“It can’t be helped. It’s the truth. No matter how we try to conceal it, someday everyone will know.”
“Yes, that’s true. But—but I’m not sure that I can protect him.”
His voice was filled with anxiety, and Saya looked closely at him in concern. His face, etched with deep shadows cast by the lamplight, was that of a man who had not slept for many days.
“What is it? What do you fear?”
His voice was almost a whisper. “For the last two nights I have seen disturbing shadows. They circled the camp but did not attack us, probably because so much blood was spilled in the field. Angry gods thirst for the blood of sacrifice, but there has been enough death to satiate any raging god. Now, however, the battle is over. Tonight there is no substitute for the sacrifice.”
A chill crawled slowly up Saya’s spine. Holding her breath, she whispered, “You mean another angry god has appeared?”
“It’s Chihaya’s power of renewal that infuriates them. Just as death is defilement to the God of Light, so renewal is defilement to the gods of the earth, and they abhor it. So far, you have succeeded in stilling them, but with the power of renewal flaunted so openly, it’s only natural that they would bare their fangs . . .”
Saya glanced at the Dragon Sword lying beside Chihaya. Like him, it slept peacefully. Lord Akitsu continued, “Unable to return to the rear guard with him, I summoned you. I wanted your opinion. We can’t fight the gods to protect Chihaya. No matter how strong we are, it would be futile. Only you can stand without fear before the gods. Only you have the power to appease their wrath.”
For the first time, Saya realized that Lord Akitsu was afraid; he, a seasoned warrior, was overcome with fear. But she, too, was more than sufficiently terrified.
“Soon it will be dark. We can’t stay here any longer. What should we do? Should we leave Chihaya here and retreat? Or can you appease the gods?”
In a hoarse voice, Saya asked, “If we leave Chihaya behind, what will happen to him?”
Lord Akitsu reached out a hand and took her by the shoulder, but before he could reply an anguished scream rose from somewhere near the tent. The sound quivered in the air, sending shivers up their spines.
“What’s happening?” Lord Akitsu shouted to the soldiers outside.
“It’s the horses!” cried one of his men. “The horses are screaming in fear.”
The sound came again, and Saya put her hands over her ears, unable to bear it. She was afraid that she herself would start shrieking.
“Saya, calm down. If you panic, you’ll wake the Dragon Sword,” Lord Akitsu said sharply.
Saya saw that the stones in the hilt were glowing red. But it was Chihaya, not the sword, who awoke. His eyes opened suddenly and he sat up in a leisurely fashion, stretching as if he had woken on a bright sunny morning. He stopped in mid-stretch, however, when he noticed Saya and Lord Akitsu staring at him wordlessly, and after looking closely at Saya, he said, “You’re afraid.”
“You’re so observant,” she replied acidly. “We’re in terrible danger!”
But at that moment a soldier rushed into the tent. His face was as pale as wax and beaded in sweat. “A pack of wolves is closing in on us. Several soldiers were attacked and taken by surprise. We must retreat.”
“Wolves? At this time of year?” Pushing past him, Lord Akitsu left the tent. His guards stood in formation around the camp, their shields grasped in their hands. In the thick darkness between the trees, shadows squirmed toward them along the forest floor. Countless pairs of eyes glowed red in the torchlight. The menacing growl rattling low in their throats seemed to set the very air vibrating. Advancing to the edge of the forest, the creatures glared at the soldiers, their venomous tongues lolling and their yellow fangs bared and glinting in the firelight. Their eyes blazed with savage intent.
One wolf, which had been inching slowly toward the soldiers, closed the distance between them and sprang. It leaped straight for the throat of its prey, but the soldier’s sword swung true. Its belly split open, the wolf howled and rolled across the ground while the snarling of the pack grew louder.
Recognizing the profile of the man who wiped the gore from his blade with a swift, practiced movement, Lord Akitsu called to him in a low voice.
“Masaki, is that you? How many were taken?”
“Three. They had no time to draw their swords.”
In a heavy, cheerless voice Lord Akitsu said, “We’ll be lucky if we lose only three. Listen. No more wolves must be slain. We’ll retreat without further resistance. These wolves are earth gods. Do you understand?”
Masaki looked back at him in surprise. “You plan to leave like this? Just run away?”
“That’s right. We’ll show them that we bear them no malice and withdraw peacefully. I can’t set my men against the gods of the earth.”
Lifting the curtain, he spoke quickly to Saya within. “We’ll retreat. I leave it to you to decide whether or not you come with us.”
Chihaya looked at Saya with a puzzled expression. “What’s going on?”
“Get dressed, will you. We have to escape,” Saya replied. She would run for her life. There was no question about that. She had no intention of standing alone to meet the wrath and malice of so many gods. But at the same time she could not desert Chihaya who did not even know what was happening. When the two of them tried to leave the tent, however, they froze in their tracks at the sound of a familiar dull rumble. The Dragon Sword was starting to roar, its red stones blazing crimson.
“You mustn’t draw the blade!” Saya said hastily. Chihaya’s hand had moved instantly to the sword as though controlled by someone else.
“It wants out,” Chihaya whispered. “The Dragon’s awake. What’s outside that can call the Dragon as it pleases?”
“Angry gods. But you mustn’t draw the Sword!” Saya said earnestly. “Please! Pray that it will be still.”
“If I move, I’m afraid I’ll unsheathe it.” His face was tense, his voice, barely a whisper. “The Dragon is trying to move me.”
“BUT the lady is not here,” Masaki said.
“Never mind. We must retreat. We can’t stay any longer,” Lord Akitsu commanded.
“But—”
“The Lady of the Sword knows what she’s doing. She has her own thoughts as Priestess, as the Water Maiden. There’s no need to worry,” the lord said gravely, but without as much conviction as he had hoped.
IT WAS ALREADY TOO LATE. The malicious gods had surrounded the tent where the two remained and were closing in. The violent rage emanating from countless wolves merged into a single entity as if some giant being were glaring down upon the two of them from midair.
I have no power to calm these gods, Saya thought in despair. Their wrath was directed not only at Chihaya but also at herself. She could feel their anger almost painfully, as if it pierced her skin. They could see into the depths of her soul, and they knew. They knew that she still envied and was still drawn to the Light, to youth, beauty, and immortality; that she still worshipped the Children of Light just as surely as the senior handmaiden who had rejected old age.
Chihaya, who had remained motionless, holding his breath, suddenly raised his head sharply.
“What’s wrong?” Saya asked.
“Where’s Morning Star?” he demanded in a choked voice. “Where is he? I can’t feel him anywhere.”
Saya raised her hands to her mouth and
stared at Chihaya in fright. Morning Star had been tied to a pine tree, unable to escape, all alone.
“He was tethered to a tree outside the camp,” Saya said, her voice rising. Before she could stop him, Chihaya rushed out of the tent. Frantically, she ran after him. “Wait!” she cried.
“Morning Star!” Chihaya shouted toward the dark forest, but there was no answering nicker, only a gnashing of teeth and the snarling and panting of bloodthirsty beasts.
Black shadows leaped one after another like balls thrown from every direction at Chihaya, who had stopped in his tracks. Although he instinctively dodged aside, fangs grazed his knees and shoulders and he heard the sound of ripping cloth. His legs were knocked from under him, and as he staggered, his hand went to the Sword.
Seeing the light gush forth, Saya screamed, “No!” but she, too, was attacked by wolves. By the light of the Sword she watched the foaming jaws and bloody fangs aiming for her throat as she cowered, mesmerized, unable to move.
The instant before the teeth of the leaping wolf met her throat a white arrow flew through the air and pierced its side. She gasped and turned to see Masaki casting aside his bow and drawing his sword as he rushed toward her.
“Are you all right? It doesn’t look like they’re the type to retreat before the power of your gaze.”
“You . . .” Saya said in stunned surprise. “Didn’t you hear Lord Akitsu’s orders?”
“If she heard that I had deserted you, my wife would disown me.”
“But you’ll offend the gods.”
“Two or three times more, what difference can that make when I’ve already slain one?” he replied with typical pluck. “Now let’s get out of here. Come on!”
Saya, unable to reply, ran with him, but her thoughts were dark and gloomy. Kind Masaki . . . foolish Masaki . . . you should never have come.
For she knew that mortal strength was not enough. Her heart broke at the thought of his needless death. These cruel and merciless gods would never forgive him.
Her vision was filled with leaping shadows. Many times she was knocked down, many times she felt fangs graze her skin, but each time she rose again and continued to run. It seemed the only thing she could do for Masaki. Soon, however, she was out of breath and only dimly conscious, her mind like thick porridge, so that she no longer knew where she was running, and even began to forget why. Leaping shadows, shadows, shadows . . . interspersed with flashes of light that she could not place. Leaping shadows, shadows, shadows— then flashing light—and more shadows, shadows, shadows. Only shadows . . .
WHEN she regained consciousness and raised her head, the night was hushed and still. It was the stillness that comes just before the dawn, when the night is coldest and silence reigns. Standing beside her, so close that she almost cried out in surprise, was Chihaya. She could see his figure faintly by the blue-white glow of the naked blade that he held in his hand.
He looked at her and spoke as though he had been talking to her all along. “I’ve finally figured out how to use this thing. This Sword is a fang. All I have to do is become the owner of the fang. Like the wolves. As for wolves, I have been one myself.”
Saya shuddered and found her voice. “What happened to them?”
“They’ve gone. They disappeared when I destroyed the one controlling them.”
“I see,” Saya whispered. “So you have slain another earth god.” Her words held neither praise nor blame. She had merely said the first thing that came into her mind.
“Saya.” Chihaya spoke in a low voice, looking down at the Sword. “Morning Star is dead.”
She nodded wordlessly. She could not offer him any easy words of comfort. He remained silent for a long time and then said sadly, “Morning Star was the only one who loved me without any hesitation.”
Night began to fade into dawn through the mist on the treetops. Somewhere a deer called, searching for a mate in the autumn season. In the faint light, Saya wandered, dragging her feet, and found Masaki fallen facedown on the grass. His body had long grown cold, and dew clung to the blade still gripped in his hand. When she found him, it did not occur to her to weep. She was too exhausted. Instead, she sank down beside him and took his hand in hers as though to console him. One thought kept running through her mind. What am I going to say to Natsume? Natsume, how am I to tell her?
When Lord Akitsu came in search of her, she was still sitting there. She saw him approach and knew from his somber expression that he had guessed all that had transpired. For the first time, tears traced their way down her cheeks.
“Why are they so cruel, these gods we worship? Why? Why must we fight for such gods as these?”
Lord Akitsu replied as though meditating on each word. “Cruelty is one aspect of all gods. But it is not the only one. Originally, the gods were loving and beautiful. These traits were twisted by the Light.”
“I don’t understand it. I don’t believe it.” Saya shook her head. “I hate the god who killed Masaki. I’m glad that Chihaya destroyed it.”
He looked down at her, his face full of pain. “Do you really think so, Saya? If so, then wait one year. Wait and then come again to this spot. You’ll find a totally different scene, a wasteland spreading out before you. Never again will this land bear fruit. Never again will flowers bloom. For the land has lost its spirit. Land that isn’t nurtured by the gods of the earth lacks the breath of life.”
“Really?” Saya whispered. But she could not comprehend it. All she could think of was Natsume’s unborn child.
WHEN she returned to the camp, Saya was stricken with fever and remained bedridden for several days. In her delirium, she was plagued by dreams, but the one that troubled her most was her old childhood nightmare, which, though she had not seen it for some time, had lost none of its terror. Again and again, she saw the whiterobed priestess turning . . . It did not help to tell herself that it was Chihaya. Fear rose in her throat and she sank into despair, for what was done could not be undone.
If only I hadn’t looked at her face, she thought over and over in her feverish rambling. If only I hadn’t looked.
Finally one morning she awoke to sunlight. She felt like she was waking for the first time in a very long while, as if a mist in front of her had cleared. It was almost noon, and the honey-colored sunlight poured through a small window high above. A man loomed beside her, as big as a bear, blocking the light. Although he had hunched himself over as far as possible, his bulk still threatened to burst the tiny hut asunder. Looking at him, Saya smiled weakly.
“Lord Ibuki. So you reached us safely, then.”
“Yes, many days ago,” he replied in a thick rumbling voice, although for him this was an attempt to speak softly and quietly. “It seems your fever has passed. That’s good. Very good.”
“Surely it’s thanks to the herbs that your lordship found for us,” Natsume said gratefully. As always, she worked diligently, neither secluding herself nor wearing mourning clothes. Saya would almost have preferred her to weep or rage than to nurse her so devotedly, but Natsume never allowed a single tear to show in front of Saya.
“I’m actually an expert at tracking down medicinal herbs. I find them where no one would expect.” Lord Ibuki patted his chest proudly with a large, heavy hand, although a less likely hand for plucking the slender stalks of herbs growing in rock crevices would have been hard to imagine.
“Well, well. Wild pinks,” he remarked, noticing the bouquet in Natsume’s hand. “You did a good job collecting those.”
Natsume smiled meaningfully and glanced down at the pale pink flowers with their notched petals. “I didn’t pick them. I don’t know who it could be, but someone has sent flowers every day since my lady fell ill.”
Lord Ibuki gave her a strange look. “You don’t know who it is, when the man who just left is one of Lord Shinado’s servants?”
“Oh, really?” Natsume feigned ignorance.
“What’s this? What’s this?” Lord Ibuki roared in his normal voice. “The devil
! Who would have guessed from his looks that he was such a simple-hearted—” Seeing the two girls staring at him, he stopped himself hastily. “Well, now. That’s just between him and me.”
Saya looked at the bouquet of gentians brought yesterday. The flowers were still a fresh blue. Her thoughts unconsciously returned to the field of wild roses she had once seen.
Even though he saw an entire field covered with flowers, Chihaya never thought to pick them, she thought. Instead, he took me to see the place where they were blooming.
“What happened to Chihaya?” Her question was so sudden that Natsume and Lord Ibuki looked at her in surprise.
“Why, nothing. He’s fine,” Lord Ibuki replied hastily.
“Even without Morning Star?”
Seeing the disconcerted look on his face, Saya realized that Lord Ibuki knew nothing of Chihaya’s whereabouts. Natsume seemed to hesitate and then in a strange tone answered Saya’s question with one of her own.
“My lady, everyone has been talking about it, but is it true that he’s a Prince of Light?”
Saya was caught off guard. So now everyone knew, she thought. “Yes, it’s true.”
“And that even though he was slain in battle, he came back to life as though nothing had happened . . .” Natsume’s words trailed off.
Saya did not know what to say. “Yes, but—”
“Well, I never,” Natsume said with forced cheerfulness, but she was unable to keep her composure any longer. The hand in which she had held the bouquet of flowers was trembling. “Excuse me a moment,” she whispered and left without a backward glance.
“She’s a brave girl,” Lord Ibuki said in a low voice. “She never utters a word of complaint.”
Saya wondered where she went to vent her grief.
Left on her own when Lord Ibuki departed, Saya went out on shaky legs to search for Chihaya. If Natsume had been there, she would certainly not have allowed her to go, but she had not yet returned. Outside, the light was yellow and blindingly bright, and the wind felt uncomfortably cold against her skin. There were some soldiers training, their loud cries resounding, but Chihaya was nowhere to be seen. Nor was he among those returning with food supplies. Before she realized it, she had cut across the dwelling area and was heading for the spring, drawn by the shady darkness.
Dragon Sword and Wind Child Page 21
