Night of the Dragon

by Julie Kagawa

  I stopped short, as with a rustle of leaves, a large stag stepped from the undergrowth a few yards away. It snorted when it saw me, but didn’t seem overly troubled at the appearance of a half-demon, for it calmly turned and walked back into the forest, parting branches and undergrowth as it did. A few white moths, disturbed by the passing of the large creature, fluttered around us like bits of paper.

  “I don’t know,” Yumeko whispered suddenly.

  I glanced down at her. “What?”

  “Master Isao,” Yumeko said, causing an icy hand to clutch my heart. “He keeps...calling to me, trying to tell me something, but I can’t quite hear him.” She paused, as if realizing what she’d just said, then let out a quiet breath. “I’m...dying, aren’t I?”

  “Stay with me, Yumeko,” I whispered, ducking my head. The tops of her ears brushed my jaw, and I closed my eyes. “Don’t join him just yet, we need you here.” I...need you.

  “I’ll try,” Yumeko murmured, leaning her head against my chest again. “But...I don’t think I have much longer, Tatsumi. When you hear Meido calling...you have to go.” She let out a shaky breath, curling into me further. “You’ll take care of the others, right?” she asked softly. “Reika, Daisuke, baka Okame... They’ll need you if they’re going to fight the Master of Demons. Reika will be quite cross that I didn’t make it. Tell her...it’s not your fault, and I’m sorry I died before we stopped the Summoning.”

  I couldn’t answer that. I could barely keep myself walking. I just held her tighter, silently raging at the spirits, the Kami, the fortunes and myself most of all.

  “I’m sorry,” Yumeko said again. She shivered against me, one hand clutching my jacket. “I don’t want to go,” she whispered. “I want to stay here with you. There were so many things I wanted to do, to see...after we beat Genno.” She paused, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps, as if talking now was an effort. “You’ll have to see them for me, Tatsumi.”

  “Yumeko...” My voice came out choked, and there was a strange stinging sensation in the corner of my eyes. I had no future; once we defeated Genno and stopped the Summoning, there was no place for me in this world. The empire did not look kindly on half-demons, and the Shadow Clan would certainly want Hakaimono dead and Kamigoroshi returned. When this was over, I wasn’t sure if I would continue Hakaimono’s oath of vengeance against the Kage, or simply walk out to meet them all, knowing the result would be the same either way.

  There was nothing but death waiting for me at the end of this road—I had always known that. But Yumeko deserved more than what fate had decided. She deserved to walk in the sun, to see the wonders she spoke of, to know years of peace without the threat of demons or dragons or darkness. “Don’t give up on me yet,” I told her in a husky voice. “I’m not going anywhere without you. If you want me to see those places, you’ll have to come along and see them yourself.”

  There was no answer. I looked down and saw that Yumeko had fallen unconscious again, her head resting on my chest and her eyes closed. I could still feel her heartbeat, but just barely. Our time was nearly up.

  * * *

  The last of the light faded, plunging the woods into gloom and shadow, and a light rain began to drip through the canopy overhead, cold tendrils snaking into my hair and down my skin. As I stumbled again, managing to stay on my feet this time, I caught sight of something in the trees that made my blood run cold. An old oak, charred and blackened, its trunk split in two by lightning, stood a few yards away. I recognized it because I had seen it hours earlier, when I had first passed this way. There was no mistake. Seeing it again meant I’d been going in circles, though I knew I had been traveling west the whole time. Or, I thought I’d been going west. But a forest filled with kami and spirits was a fickle thing. Whether it was the creatures that lived here or the nature of the forest itself that had caused me to lose my way, the result was the same.

  My legs gave out, and I collapsed to my knees in the grass, feeling the girl’s limp body against mine. Bowing my head, I closed my eyes and held her tightly, as rage and despair began pulling me into the darkness. There was no time left. I had failed, and my world would soon lose the only bright spot it had ever known.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered to the motionless girl in my arms. She remained unresponsive, her skin cold against mine. “Forgive me, Yumeko. I...” My throat closed, and I gently brushed a strand of hair from her slack face. “I wanted to stay with you, too,” I confessed in a whisper. “For however long I had left. You made me believe a demon could be worth saving.”

  There was the faintest of rustles in the grass in front of me, like a leaf skipping over the ground, and I raised my head.

  A kodama, tiny and insubstantial, stood on a rock a few feet away, watching us as before. Briefly, I contemplated striking it down, then taking Kamigoroshi and carving a path through the forest until it let me go or until nothing was left standing. But the kodama didn’t appear hostile or wary. Its huge black eyes, curious and concerned, were fixed on Yumeko.

  Hope flickered, and I took a careful breath. “Please,” I began, but as soon as I spoke, the tiny kami disappeared, twisting into the rain and vanishing from sight, snuffing that brief moment of hope as it did. I slumped back, anger and anguish like twin serpents coiling within. Even if they could help, the kodama wouldn’t speak to a demon. Yumeko was the one they listened to, flocked around, allowed safe passage through their forest. Because she was kitsune, or because they could sense the pureness inside her, the light that drew everyone to her like moths to a flame. I remembered another night, another forest filled with kodama, their voices like hundreds of rustling leaves, and Yumeko sitting by the fire as the tree spirits approached and raised a single leaf that glowed with a soft inner light.

  My heart stood still. The leaf. That night, the kodama had offered me a gift for slaying a savage demon bear that had been sucking the life out of the forest. I hadn’t given any thought to the forest when I’d killed the monster; I had simply been trying to survive. But in the eyes of the kodama, I had done the land a favor, and the kami always repaid their debts.

  That leaf signifies that you are a friend of the forest, I heard Yumeko saying. If you are ever in need of the kami’s help, whisper your request out loud and release it into the wind. It will carry your message to any nearby kodama, who will aid you in whatever way they can.

  Heart pounding, I gently laid Yumeko down, then yanked open my travel pouch, digging through the contents with trembling fingers. Much of it was gone, washed away in the sea. I pulled out empty medicine packets, soggy rice kernels, bandages, a roll of thread, my desperation growing as I searched in vain for the item I needed. Where had I put it? I remembered not giving it a second thought as I’d stuffed it into my pouch that night, thinking I would never need to call in a favor from the kami.

  My fingertips brushed something fragile and papery, wedged into the seam of the pouch. With the utmost care, I freed it and pulled it out, my breath catching as it came to light. A leaf, tiny and green, the same color as the kodama that had presented it to me. Though weeks had passed since that night, it wasn’t torn or brittle, pulsing with that soft inner light that cast my fingers in a faint glow.

  With a sigh of both relief and fear, I closed my eyes and brought the leaf close to my face, praying the request would still be honored, that the kami would listen to the words of a demon.

  “Spirits of the forest,” I whispered, my voice coming out shaky, “help Yumeko. I care nothing for myself, do with me what you will, punish me for trespassing as you see fit. But please, if you can honor this one request, save her. She is desperately needed here.”

  A breeze gusted around me, tugging at my hair and rippling my clothes. Almost without thinking, I opened my hand and let the leaf swirl away on the wind, watching as it spiraled up into the branches and disappeared.

  Silence fell, even the rain seeming to pause as the for
est considered my request. As the seconds ticked by, I felt resignation and hopelessness settle heavy on my shoulders. I was an oni, a creature of Jigoku, the realm of evil. The kami would not listen to the tainted words of a demon.

  Gathering up Yumeko, I sat back against a tree, drawing her into my lap. I didn’t dare check for a pulse, afraid that I would feel nothing. Or worse, that I would feel it, fading slowly away, and could do nothing as the fox girl slipped from me forever.

  My skin prickled, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I lifted my gaze, and found the clearing filled with kami.

  Kodama surrounded us, hundreds of them, peering down from branches and between leaves, their hollow black eyes fixed on me. They covered the forest floor like a softly glowing carpet, like dozens of pale green toadstools growing out of everything. Silently, they watched me, making no sound, and the forest itself seemed to hold its breath.

  Something slipped through the trees, silent as a shadow, a brief glimmer in the darkness, and my pulse spiked. Beyond the ring of kami, a creature stepped out of the forest, halted at the edge of the clearing and stared at me. It was much larger than a kodama, with the legs and body of a small deer, yet somehow, it made even the most graceful deer seem boorish and clumsy. Tiny pearlescent scales covered its body, sometimes green, sometimes gold or silver, and a silken mane fell around its neck and shoulders. Its face was a cross between a stag and a dragon, and a single antlered horn, shining gold and black, crowned the top of its head.

  Swishing a feathered, ox-like tail, it stepped into the open, cloven hooves barely touching the tops of the grass, and walked toward me.

  I drew in a slow breath, as awe and a sudden, instinctive fear paralyzed my limbs. For the creature gliding toward me across the forest floor wasn’t yokai or kami or any normal monster or spirit. In fact, it was the only one of its kind.

  The sacred Kirin, a creature of legend, one of the four great holy beasts of Iwagoto. It was said that the Kirin was seen only during times of peace, and only when a great and wise ruler sat on the throne. I didn’t know how much of the legend was true, because it was also said that the Kirin showed itself only to those with pure hearts and souls, and oni certainly did not qualify. I could feel the demon side of me recoiling from the sacred animal, filled with an innate loathing and fear. The immortal Kirin radiated holiness and purity, and an aura of sacred flame surrounded it, repelling evil. One blast of its holy fire would instantly char this body to dust and send its soul back to Jigoku, Kamigoroshi or whatever afterlife awaited.

  The Kirin walked across the clearing, silent as a ripple of moonlight, seeming to step on the tops of the grass without bending them. The kodama made no effort to get out of the way and yet, somehow, the hooves of the Kirin always found an opening and never stepped on the multitude of kami spread throughout the grove.

  When it was about a dozen yards away, the Kirin stopped. Depthless black eyes, as ancient as the forest itself, regarded me over the heads of the kodama. I didn’t move, holding Yumeko close. If the Kirin was here to kill us, to purge the demon blood from its forest with one blast of sacred fire, so be it.

  The Kirin slowly tilted its head, watching me. It didn’t speak; there were no words, in my head or otherwise, but I could suddenly feel its unspoken question, the inquiry as clear as if it had shouted the words out loud.

  Why do you come to my forest?

  I bowed my head, feeling a sensation of utter tranquility emanating from the sacred beast, snuffing any thoughts of violence or desire to harm. Even if I’d had ill intent, raising a weapon against this creature would be nearly impossible. “Great Kirin,” I replied, “forgive this intrusion into your domain. We are only passing through. My comrades and I came to these islands seeking a blood mage called Genno, who possesses the pieces of the Dragon’s Prayer.”

  The night of the Wish approaches. The Kirin’s “voice” was impassive. Around us, a noise rose up, like the rustle of a thousand dry leaves, as all the kodama began shaking and waving in the wind. The Kirin didn’t seem to notice. The Dragon is almost risen, and all the world trembles with the end of another age. But whether the Wish brings ruin or fortune is yet to be decided.

  The chatter from the kodama faded, and the Kirin’s ancient black eyes fixed on me again. Hakaimono, it said flatly, and my stomach dropped. And not Hakaimono. Your soul is fragmented, tangled with another’s. I cannot tell where the human and the demon intersect. It seemed to sigh, the ox tail swishing thoughtfully against its flanks. Normally I do not speak with your kind, but the kodama called on me for aid, and I have come. The kami always honor their debts. Though make no mistake, it was for the kitsune that they responded tonight, not the demon. Its elegant, deerlike ears swiveled forward, toward the girl in my arms. She is nearly gone, it said, making my heart clench. Her spirit is ready to depart its body. It has perhaps a few breaths, a few heartbeats more.

  “Save her,” I rasped, and the Kirin blinked. “Please. She can’t...die now.”

  The sacred beast regarded me without expression. Death is the natural order of things, it stated calmly. It comes for all mortals, human and yokai alike. To snatch a life from the jaws of death disrupts the balance of the world. Why should I change this fate?

  “Because, I...” I closed my eyes, trying to grasp the thought that could save Yumeko’s life. A dozen responses sprang to mind: because she was the bearer of the Dragon scroll, because she could be important in stopping Genno and preventing the coming of the Harbinger. But those answers seemed trivial and inadequate, and I knew they would not satisfy the immortal creature before me.

  “Because... I care for her,” I whispered at last. A selfish reason, I knew, but it was the most honest one I could think of. Even as it shocked me just as much. I had lived a long time. I had seen countless mortals come and go. Their lives were insignificant dust motes on the wind. And yet, somehow, this slip of a half-fox had unassumingly bypassed all my defenses and wriggled her way into my soul.

  “I can’t lose her,” I finished. “She’s my light. If she disappears, the darkness will swallow me again.”

  The Kirin’s expression didn’t change. It took a step back, still managing to avoid the dozens of kodama behind it. Come dawn, you will leave this place, it told me. The forest will not keep you here, and the spirits will not impede you any longer. When the night fades, a guide will appear to show you the way.

  I slumped in defeat, anger and despair rising once more, drowning that brief moment of hope. The Kirin wasn’t going to help. It was a god, and the life of a single half human meant nothing to the fickle kami. A part of me considered leaping up, drawing Kamigoroshi and forcing the beast to help, but threatening the sacred Kirin would likely result in either a terrible curse or a swift death by holy fire. In either case, it wouldn’t save her.

  The Kirin swished its tail. I will grant you this gift, human who is not, it said, and turned away, though I could still sense its voice, resonating through the forest. Sleep, and do not worry about enemies or creatures that mean you harm. Within this forest, nothing will touch you. Sleep now, and do not dream. Your burdens will be lighter with the dawn.

  I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to stay awake with Yumeko, to be there when her spirit left her body and she died in my arms. And when she was gone, I would depart this forest, find the Master of Demons and his army no matter where they were hiding, and tear every soul apart with my bare hands. The last thing I wanted to do now was fall unconscious.

  Setting my jaw, I started to rise, intending to leave this clearing and the presence of a god who refused to help. But my body was suddenly sluggish, and my eyelids felt like they were made of stone. A feeling of deep peace swept through me, blissful and overwhelming, and then I knew nothing at all.

  10

  The City of Sacred Beasts

  Yumeko

  Master Isao was waiting for me on the steps outside the temple.
/>   “Hello, Yumeko-chan,” he greeted, smiling. He held a piece of wood in one hand and a small knife in the other, whittling tiny flakes that drifted to the steps between his feet. The block in his hand had taken on the vague likeness of some four-legged beast, though it was still unrecognizable. He would spend months, sometimes years, on a particular piece, though I remembered he never kept the figurines that he finished, placing them in the woods outside the temple, returning them to nature.

  “Hello, Master Isao,” I said. “It’s a nice morning.”

  “It is. Very peaceful.” He nodded to the sun-warmed steps of the main hall. “Sit with me a moment, won’t you, Yumeko-chan?”

  Uh-oh, what had I done this time? I picked my way up the steps and sat next to my mentor, trying to remember if I had gotten into any trouble with Denga or Nitoru. I didn’t think I had, though my memories of today seemed scattered and hazy. The sun was warm on my skin, and several birds sang in the branches of the nearby trees. It was quiet here, very peaceful, as Master Isao had said, but something nagged at me. A feeling I couldn’t quite place.

  “Where is everyone, Master Isao?” I asked, glancing up at him. I couldn’t remember seeing Denga, Jin or Nitoru today.