Dragon Sword and Wind Child

by Noriko Ogiwara

  A soldier grasped the collar of an elderly flute player, who had turned deathly pale, and hauled him from his place. As he drew his sword and held it aloft, Lord Shinado rose.

  “It was I.”

  Before the soldiers could turn around, Lord Shinado jumped from the platform. The soldier who had been about to lop off the old man’s head turned and swung his sword, but Lord Shinado swiftly parried the blow with his pipes. The hoop binding them together was severed, and the bamboo reeds flew apart with a loud noise. Momentarily distracted, the soldier found himself pummeled with fists and feet, and dropped his sword. Grasping the fallen blade, Lord Shinado desperately attacked the milling soldiers. Some fell back under the vigor of his assault.

  “My bow,” commanded Prince Tsukishiro calmly. Taking the proffered weapon, he shrugged one arm out of his sleeve and grasped an arrow. No matter how agile Lord Shinado might have been, the Prince could not miss at that range. By the time Lord Shinado was aware of him, it was too late. With a shrill noise the arrow was loosed. But at that moment someone threw a fan. The arrow pierced its handle and, swerving slightly from its path, struck the column beside Lord Shinado. Everyone turned in disbelief to see that one of the five dancers was empty-handed.

  Prince Tsukishiro said in astonishment, “So there you are.”

  Chihaya leaped lightly over the heads of the crowd, his jade-green and crimson hem billowing, and landed right beside Lord Shinado, as if scorning their incredulity.

  “You fool!” Lord Shinado said angrily. “We agreed that anyone who was discovered would be left behind.”

  “As an extra member, I never agreed to anything,” Chihaya replied. “Besides, I’m in your debt.”

  “You’re every inch a fool, my brother,” Prince Tsukishiro said with deep disappointment. “To come here, to this place, playing into our hands. Don’t you realize that I’m holding this performance for Saya’s sake?”

  Chihaya looked at his older brother in surprise.

  “Teruhi won’t use Saya for the sacrifice. If I know her, she won’t let her live that long.”

  THE FLOCK of woodpeckers now numbered twenty or thirty, and they continued to chip away at the wood like carpenters. They had already begun to remove the second panel of wainscoting, and it looked as if Saya would be able to squeeze through. Suddenly, however, the birds became tense and silent. As they flew hastily away, Saya heard the sound of light footsteps. The latch drew back. Saya stood up hurriedly and tried to conceal any evidence of the woodpeckers’ handiwork with her body. Before her stood Princess Teruhi. Her expression was calm and peaceful.

  “Saya,” the Princess addressed her in a quiet tone. “Do you wish to preserve Toyoashihara no matter what the cost?”

  “Yes,” Saya replied.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking. I can’t help feeling that it would be too heartless to return this land to chaos.”

  Saya’s eyes widened. “If both sides think this way, then the war is no longer necessary. Will you stop the coming of the God of Light?”

  “As long as the Goddess remains in the Land of the Dead, Toyoashihara will be preserved even if the God of Light descends upon the earth,” Princess Teruhi said. “It’s the meeting of the two divinities that must be prevented. Regardless of what our divine father wishes, the Goddess must not be summoned before him. I have decided to ignore this one point only. The purification ceremony will be conducted without you—because you, along with our celestial father, would surely summon forth the Goddess. I don’t wish to see our father’s eyes turned toward anything other than us at his arrival. I can’t bear that that should be the end of all our efforts.”

  But just as a bright ray of hope was lit in Saya’s breast, Princess Teruhi calmly drew a long-bladed sword from the scabbard at her waist. The winter sun lent the naked blade a cold light. Staring at the cruel steel before her eyes, Saya paled and fell back, only to bump into the wall.

  “Why?” she whispered almost inaudibly.

  “You asked me to stop the coming of my father. But to me it is the Goddess of Darkness that stands in the way. I don’t want her to return. But I cannot disobey my father’s command. No one can go against his will, no one except the Goddess of Darkness herself.” Princess Teruhi continued to speak calmly. “That’s why I wish you to return to the Goddess before the purification ceremony. Tell her to refuse our divine father’s summons. I can trust you to do this, can’t I? Because, in return, Toyoashihara will be saved.”

  “Do you mean to kill me here?” Saya’s lips trembled. The icy blade filled her with terror, death in tangible form, and her entire youthful being rejected it with all its strength. She could not possibly die now. Not in this narrow room, so unprepared, without even seeing Chihaya . . .

  Princess Teruhi’s pale bare feet stepped closer. “If I could, I would go myself to meet the Goddess. But that path can be trodden only by the people of Darkness.”

  “No!” Saya screamed as she watched the Princess raise the sword. In that small room there was no escape, but still she tried to flee, groping along the wall, dodging aside. Seeking help, she called out for Chihaya, for Torihiko. But—

  The tip of the sword described a graceful arc as it descended. It was a deft, a masterful stroke. For an instant Saya glimpsed the window and saw the white and distant sky. Then she saw Princess Teruhi’s serene and beautiful face. Even when she kills, she still looks pure, Saya thought, recalling the shrine maiden in Hashiba so far away. And then she thought no more.

  Like a priestess, Princess Teruhi knelt beside Saya’s body where it lay upon the floor, watching as the last warmth fled from the dead girl’s body. She almost looked as if she were praying. Into the still and silent room, however, a richly colored apparition suddenly floated and immediately became solid. It was Chihaya, still in dancer’s robes but now holding the Sword. Gold ornaments swayed on his costume, but his feet were bare, his hair was in disarray, and he was gasping for breath.

  “So you’ve finally learned how to travel between time,” Princess Teruhi murmured without surprise. But Chihaya did not reply. He gazed only at Saya, at the girl who lay like a broken-stemmed flower.

  “It seems that you are a moment too late. Saya has already left for another land.”

  “I will never forgive you,” Chihaya whispered.

  Princess Teruhi laughed. “Unfortunately, those are my lines. As long as you remain a threat to our father, we cannot let you stand before him alive. I’m sure, however, that you’ve come prepared for this, haven’t you?”

  Her hair stirred as though a wind had suddenly sprung up.

  “The people of this land have no inkling of what would happen should the Children of Light loose all their power. You may be more terrible than thunder and lightning, but we are your older sister and brother. We are the sun and the moon. Now you’ll see what happens when the powers of the sun and the moon are unleashed together.” Looking at Chihaya with a grim smile, she turned on her heel and slipped between time. Without a moment’s hesitation, Chihaya raced after her.

  Although the intervals between time are indescribable, they are not composed of nothingness. Rather, the shadows of many things hang suspended. Princess Teruhi, slipping between these like a speeding arrow, looked like a golden shadow that left a long trail behind it. After a while Chihaya became aware of a gleaming silver shadow approaching from another direction and knew it must be Prince Tsukishiro. The two shadows, silver and gold, drew closer and closer until they became one. At that moment a light burst forth as though the world between time had exploded. The light, whose heat and strength transcended that of incandescence, turned black, piercing, shattering, burning, and melting all in its path.

  WITHOUT WARNING the sun darkened. Despite the fact that it was midday, darkness arose from all four corners of the land and covered the sky, turning the day to an inky blackness. The palace was thrown into confusion, and the soldiers rushed about, unable to remain at their posts. It was little different among the invading soldie
rs of the army of Darkness. The horses panicked and reared, and the soldiers broke rank, cowering in terror. As if this were not enough, violent earthquakes rocked the land. Landslides buried villages at the foot of the mountains, and a great tidal wave washed away fishing villages along the shore. People lay prostrate on the ground, unable even to stand. They could only pray with heart and soul that this convulsion of the world would prove but a passing phenomenon.

  HAS CHIHAYA BEEN DESTROYED?

  Not yet.

  What could be protecting him? Our father?

  No. That’s impossible.

  At any rate, we can’t withstand this much longer.

  Princess Teruhi and Prince Tsukishiro slipped between several intervals of time and continued to run. Whenever they reappeared on the earth they could hear the rumble of Chihaya’s thunder beneath the dark sky. At last they came to a place at the end of the world where there were only rocks and snow. The air was surprisingly thin, and it was well below freezing. Snow crystals, driven by the wind, were reluctant to fall to the ground. Hot steam rose from a rock wall nearby, the only spot bereft of snow, exposing fantastic formations in the black rock around the fissure.

  “Where are we?” Princess Teruhi asked.

  “At the mouth of Mount Fuji,” Prince Tsukishiro replied, looking at the smoke. “It seems to have come to life with that last earthquake.”

  “Let’s go. I don’t want to stay in a place like this.”

  Prince Tsukishiro said teasingly, “Why not rest? This is the closest place to heaven.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. The stench of the underworld is so foul that I can barely breathe.”

  Receiving such an irritable response, Prince Tsukishiro rose and slipped into another interval of time. “Then let’s go somewhere more pleasant.”

  Princess Teruhi attempted to follow him but was suddenly flung back. Losing her footing on the slope from the shock of the impact, she almost slipped inside the mouth of the volcano. The sight of the glowing red lava bubbling and belching smoke in the depths below was enough to make even the Princess turn pale.

  A voice spoke quietly. “Not even you, dear sister, could possibly survive if you fell in there, could you?”

  Princess Teruhi started and looked around. Prince Tsukishiro was nowhere to be seen. He was on another side of time, ignorant of her plight. Chihaya’s shadow, blurred by the smoke, appeared before her. In his hand was the shining blue Sword. The Princess was unarmed, for there was no need of swords when battling between time. She cursed herself for her carelessness. Chihaya now stood immediately over her. The Princess looked up at him from where she lay at the edge of the volcano.

  “You! So you can follow me even here?” A hint of wonder tinged her voice.

  “I told you that I would never forgive you,” Chihaya replied, and his sister smiled faintly.

  “How gallant. I like that.”

  As he turned the Sword toward her, she asked without any trace of regret, “I have just one question. What’s protecting you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You didn’t fall even under the combined forces of Tsukishiro and myself. I can’t believe you could do that alone.”

  “There’s nothing,” Chihaya began but then fell silent. Placing a hand on his breast, he felt Saya’s magatama through his clothes.

  As Chihaya remained silent, Princess Teruhi sighed. “Won’t you hurry up and get it over with. It’s rude to keep your victim waiting.”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” he said abruptly.

  Princess Teruhi’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you mad?”

  The expression on Chihaya’s face as he gazed down upon his sister was one which, as a child of Light, she could neither believe nor comprehend.

  “Even if I kill you, it won’t bring Saya back to life.”

  Sheathing the Sword, he turned his back on her and vanished between time.

  BY THE TIME Chihaya reached the open palace gate it was already late at night. Although the place was still filled with confusion, the battle was over and the palace was in the hands of the army of Darkness. Torihiko found him walking in the torchlight and flew up to him.

  “The army of Light has been routed. Without their leaders, their troops have scattered. We’ve won!” Torihiko said in a rush, then seeing Chihaya’s face, he faltered. “Where have you been, Chihaya? The main hall collapsed in the fire, but the birds managed to carry Saya out.”

  When Chihaya still did not reply, Torihiko furled his wings wretchedly and said, “Go and see Saya, will you? They’re holding a ceremony for her over there.”

  Inside the fenced enclosure where she lay, grown men wept unashamedly, moved by the sight of Saya’s small, pale form lying pathetically upon its bier, bereft of flowers in the midwinter season. Chihaya gazed at her steadily but knew that he would never find her here. She had already left, racing to a place where he could never join her, leaving him with her magatama, which she had given him until they should meet again.

  Opening his closed fist, he stared at the pale blue stone and whispered, “How can I return this?”

  At that moment someone moved at the foot of Saya’s bier. She was so small that he had not realized anyone was there, but when he saw the white-haired head turn toward him, he recognized Lady Iwa. Opening her wrinkled eyelids, she looked at him.

  “That belongs to the Water Maiden. Without it she will come to grief.”

  Chihaya nodded with great effort. “Saya protected me, even though I couldn’t save her, even though I let her die all alone. Before, I thought that I was always alone. For as long as I can remember there was never anyone else. Why didn’t I realize that she had come to me? And not once, but many times, again and again, even after she died. Now I know. Without Saya I’m incomplete.”

  His voice broke off, and Lady Iwa looked at him curiously and said, “Oh, so you claim that you now understand? You know you need Saya?”

  “Until I met her I was nothing,” Chihaya whispered. “She called me forth. She taught me about Toyoashihara, and about myself. She helped me realize what I must do. But there are still so many things that I must learn. Without her I’ll remain a blind Dragon.”

  “But you must go on alone. Saya has already returned to the Goddess,” Lady Iwa said bluntly. Chihaya remained silent, but a spark of light, a faint stirring of anger, kindled in his previously vacant black eyes.

  “And why can’t I follow her? Whether to the Land of the Dead or not, is it really impossible for me to follow where Saya has gone? Even my father once went to see the Goddess in the underworld. So why shouldn’t I? Saya always came looking for me. Now it’s my turn to find her.”

  “How?” snorted Lady Iwa.

  Suddenly at a loss, Chihaya looked down at the tiny old woman. “Isn’t there some way?” he asked.

  Lady Iwa turned away indignantly, tossing her white head. “Supposing I did know . . .”

  Realization dawned on him and he knelt hurriedly upon the floor. Laying the Sword aside, he prostrated himself meekly before her. “Please. Tell me. No matter what it takes, I wish to go to the Land of the Dead,” he pleaded. “If I could return Saya to life, I would begrudge nothing.”

  “Do you speak from your heart?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you should have said so from the beginning,” Lady Iwa said, brightening, as she turned to face him. “I don’t know of any trick that will take an immortal to the underworld. But Saya gave you the magatama. If the bond between you is strong enough, there may be a way.”

  “What is it?” Chihaya leaned forward eagerly.

  “I can’t promise anything,” Lady Iwa warned him sternly. “You may find Saya, and then again you may not. You may be able to return again, or you may not. The path of Darkness is shadowed and fraught with danger.”

  Chihaya answered emphatically, “It doesn’t matter, so long as there is hope.”

  “In that case, swallow the magatama you hold in your hand. It’s part of Saya. No
matter how far the distance, it will be drawn toward her soul. Whether you reach her or not, how far you travel along the road to Darkness depends upon you.”

  The next morning, Chihaya was found lying cold and lifeless at the foot of Saya’s bier. His breathing had stopped; there was no heartbeat, and no sign of renewal. Lord Shinado, who had just returned from pursuing the remnants of the army of Light, exclaimed, “But the children of Light can’t die. Surely he’ll come back to life again.”

  Lord Akitsu said in a low voice, “Yet I can understand his desire to follow Saya. Let’s lay them side by side on the bier. Then Saya will be less lonely.”

  4

  SAYA WAS STANDING near an open marsh. The summer grasses grew tall, and the bulrushes along the shore showed their brown heads. Pale blue dragonflies flitted lightly above the surface, their figures reflected in the water. The red glow of sunset lingered in the sky, while a soft twilight drifted across the land. She heard a gentle voice that filled her with warmth.

  “Where have you been, Saya? It’s time to come home. Supper’s ready.”

  That’s my mother, Saya thought.

  Turning around, she saw a path leading through a meadow dotted with evening primroses just beginning to open, and in the distance she could see houses, thin trails of smoke rising from their hearths. If she ran home, she would find the familiar hearthside, the bowl her father had made for her, the soft, comforting lap of her mother there to greet her.

  But she could not move. Instead she burst into tears.

  “Why do you weep when you’ve come home at last? What makes you so sad? What is it that you wish?”

  Still weeping, Saya pleaded, “I want to go back.”

  “Poor little thing. And just where do you want to go back to, when this is your home?”

  Finally realizing where she was, Saya looked about her, trying to find the speaker. But she was the only person on the edge of the marsh. Wiping her tears, she whispered, “You’re the Goddess of Darkness, aren’t you?” Then she added hesitantly, “I died, didn’t I?”