Spirit's Chosen (43 page)

She nodded and obeyed, while I began speaking to my captive kin aloud, concealing the sound of desperate whispers. It did not take long for the whole group to understand my intentions. They could not thank me aloud, but hugs and handclasps conveyed their gratitude.

I was about to leave when I felt a tug at my sleeve. “Hello, Big Sister,” Sanjirou said, still drowsy. “Please don’t go yet. I miss you.”

My arms encircled him. “Little Brother, can you keep a secret?” I asked softly.

His body turned to stone. “I know already,” he said in a misery-choked voice. “The daytime guards talked about it. In three more days …” He fought back sobs.

I held him tighter. “In three more days, this place will be a bad memory. Hear me, Little Brother.…” I told him his part in my strategy for saving our kin. Little by little his despair ebbed away. When he shivered in my arms, I knew it was from joy.

When I finished, I asked, “Do you think you can do this, Sanjirou?” My eyes were accustomed enough to the
dark for me to see him nodding vigorously. Then he kissed me and hid himself in the shadows once more.

Everything went as planned. The night before the captives were to escape, I visited them again and slipped a tiny, sealed clay pot into my brother’s hands. The following evening, the unsuspecting guardsman got his wish: Sanjirou reluctantly agreed to come outside and accept some of his evening meal. Their truce did not last. My little brother thrust the shared bowl back at Hiroshi shortly after an unexpected uproar within the house distracted the man. By the time I arrived with what my clanfolk would need to begin their march home, he was deep in a drugged sleep and Sanjirou was preening.

We moved through the sleeping village in silence. Not even a dog barked, which was strange, but I was too focused on reaching the great gate to question why. I had my people wait hidden behind the nearest house while I approached the palisade. No one challenged me when I pushed the unbarred wooden gate open just enough for a single person to squeeze through. No sound came from the watchtower, though I wagered that if I were to climb the ladder leading to the sentry’s post, I’d hear snoring.

There were no farewells as Emi and the others flitted free of danger, of slavery, of Ryu’s life-or-death control over their lives. When the last one was gone I pushed the gate shut and went back to the shrine, grinning at the stars and thanking the gods. It had all been so easy.

So
very
easy.

The shrine was dark and silent when I returned. I moved like a thief, ears alert for any sound from Daimu’s sleeping chamber, but he never stirred. We would have many things to discuss in the morning. I knew he would be glad to hear that Ryu’s sacrifices were gone, but I had deep misgivings about how he would react to what I’d done to effect their escape.

“Tomorrow,” I muttered as I felt my way to my bedroll and lay down. My body ached with exhaustion, as though I’d just come back from a race around the outside of the village. Before I closed my eyes, I murmured yet another prayer for the fugitives, then sought sleep.

It did not come. I twisted this way and that, feeling as if some evil spell had turned the smooth floor and my comfortable bedroll into a layer of river pebbles and broken turtle shells.

I have to force myself to stop thinking about Emi and Sanjirou
and the others now
, I told myself sternly.
There’s nothing more I can do for them until dawn, and worrying won’t help them. Ugh, my stomach’s churning! I’m going to throw up if I let this go on
.

I curled myself up tight as a fern head and deliberately emptied my mind of everything but the image of a field where deer grazed and summer breezes ruffled the meadow. The trick seemed to work: I began to drift away, only to sit up suddenly, staring into the dark. My stomach felt twice as ill as before and my heart beat wildly. I passed one hand over my forehead; it came away damp with sweat.

I must have heard some unusual noise just as I was falling asleep
, I reasoned.
That’s what shocked me awake
. But no matter how long I sat there, listening in the dark, I heard nothing: not a single sound. No owl’s cry, no flutter of bat wings, not even the chirr and drone and buzz and click of night-ranging insects. Nothing at all.

A storm is coming
, I thought, lying down again.
A really big thunderstorm always sucks the life out of the earth before it breaks. It’s early in the season for one of those monstrous tempests, but the signs are here. No wonder Chizu complained that her skin was tingling! Mine is too. If there were daylight, I’d probably see all the tiny hairs on my arms and legs standing up like grass blades! And my head feels so heavy.… It had better not start throbbing. I’m going to need all my wits sharp when morning comes, or tonight’s work will be futile. Dear spirits, show me a little mercy now and I won’t ask for anything more until …
A shallow slumber washed over me and my prayer remained unfinished.

It was bad to spend a wakeful night, but the vision that now invaded my mind was infinitely worse. I was a child again, a bold little girl wanting to prove myself to my adored
big brother Aki by climbing to the top of our clan’s guardian, Grandfather Pine. The world was waiting for sunrise as I scaled the venerable tree. Higher and higher I climbed, my small hands growing sticky with resin, my legs beginning to tire, my face scratched by twigs and pine needles. Somewhere in the heights of the pine was a branch that would fail me, sending me plunging to the moment when my dreams of becoming a hunter would shatter and my path to becoming a shaman would begin. The dream-child I had become knew this, sharing my waking self’s every memory. And knowing this, the child in the pine tree hesitated, frowned, shook her head and began to clamber down.

Where are you going, Daughter? Himiko, child, princess, shaman, queen, why are you abandoning me?
A golden light glowed in the branches above me. A circle of polished bronze with a blinding shine entranced me. I could not take my eyes away. The voice that called to me from the heart of that luminous mirror pulled me toward it, branch by branch, until I reached impossible heights, balanced on a single spray of pine needles at the airy summit of the tree.

The enormous mirror floated in the sky, my reflection swimming across its surface. As I watched, my dream-child image melted like beeswax and became the self I knew, then shimmered once and dissolved into the goddess I held closest to my heart. She was no longer a simple clay image. Her arms still cradled the golden dragon stone that my infant hand first clasped in the midst of the earthquake marking my birth. Once again she revealed herself to me in all her divine splendor, with the sun’s rays spreading wings of fire at her back and the fate of countless mortals in her eyes. I
stretched out my arms, yearning for her to come closer, but the sacred mirror drifted high beyond my grasp.

Oh, my lady, here I am! Let me reach you!
I cried.

I cannot grant you that, beloved Daughter, no matter how ardently I wish to have you by my side
. Her voice was mournful music on the wind.
Evil deeds and wicked intentions blaze across the good land. The soot and cinders from those fires fly up to build a wall that will keep us apart. The air itself is turned to stone. If this goes on, not even the gods themselves will have eyes keen enough to see the purest human soul’s reflection in the brightest mirror, and the pathways between our worlds will sink into the hungry sea. Flee, Daughter! When the gods remake the world, dragons dance and mortals perish. Flee, Himiko, before—!

There was a deep rumble of thunder all around us, and with an awful shriek and groan, the dragon stone in her arms cracked and shattered. Its knife-edged shards rained down, engulfing me in fear and pain. I screamed into the nightmare.

I awoke shaking on my bedroll, breathless and terrified.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard the sound of shouting and knew that at least one of the Ookami had discovered that the intended sacrifices were gone.

“Daimu?” I knelt beside him as he slept and shook him by the shoulder. “Daimu, get up; there’s something you must know.”

He tossed his head, groggy from being wakened so early, and peered at me with sleep-heavy eyes. Before he was fully alert, I poured out the tale of what I’d done the night before to set my people free.

“So that noise I hear—?” he asked, indicating the
swelling sound of many voices coming from beyond the walls of the shrine.

“It means that their escape is known,” I said.

“They’ll be hunted down and dragged back.”

“No. Not if we hurry. Not if you help me. I planned for this. They
will
get away.”

“And if they do?” he asked as he threw on his clothes and both of us headed for the door. “Ryu will simply pick more Matsu captives to take their place in my uncle’s tomb.”

“Daimu,
please
don’t make me waste time explaining!” I pleaded as we rushed down the ladder. “Everything depends on my reaching Ryu before he can give any more of his vengeful commands.”

“Yes, anything you say. My poor darling, you look haggard. You must have been up all night, worrying.”

I wish I
had
stayed awake
, I thought, recalling the horrors of my dream.
The goddess brought me a message that’s eating at my heart, but I don’t dare interpret it completely on my own. I need to share it with Daimu, but not yet. Not now
.

“I’ll be fine,” I told him. “Will you promise to follow my lead? Will you add your voice to mine?”

“I don’t know what you’ve got in mind, Himiko, but I’m yours.”

We found Ryu descending from his house into a crowd of villagers. Most of them were only half clad, if that. The uproar surrounding the slaves’ escape had yanked them from their beds more concerned with satisfying their curiosity than covering their bodies. Oddly enough, Ryu was fully groomed and dressed, as were the five warriors who now came trotting toward him. A very rumpled and bewildered
Rinji looked on from a distance. Daimu and I joined him at once.

“Himiko!” he cried, his eyes shining. “Did you hear the news? Your people got away. You must be so happy!”

“Not until I’m sure of their escape,” I replied, taking his hands. “But you are a good friend to rejoice over this, for my sake.”

There was no time for further talk. Ryu was roaring for silence. All chatter ceased. The new day was utterly still, without even the trill of birdsong. It was as if the wolf chieftain’s bluster was mighty enough to intimidate both men and beasts.

“Farewell, my people,” he boomed once he had everyone’s attention. He was carrying a bow and had a quiver of arrows slung across his back, the same weapons that had murdered Mori. “These good men and I won’t be gone long, and once we return with the fugitives, I intend to find out who’s responsible for their escape. When you see us come back, have a feast waiting. Assemble the rest of our slaves, while you’re at it. I want them to see how these useless escapades end. We are Ookami, the wolves of the mountain!” He thrust his bow at the sky. “No quarry ever escapes us! No lesser clan dares to defy our rule!” Wildly cheering people trailed after him and the five hunters as they headed for the village gateway.

“Hurry,” I said insistently, motioning for Daimu to come with me as I skirted the crowd in a race to reach the great gate before Ryu and his men. I hardly noticed Rinji running with us until we arrived. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “You have no idea what we’re about to do.”

“To be fair, neither do I,” Daimu remarked. He grinned at his former apprentice. “Himiko will guide us where we need to go, Rinji, but she won’t tell us which road we’re taking. Is that agreeable to you?”

Rinji swallowed hard, but nodded.

We placed ourselves in front of the gate—Daimu in the middle, Rinji at his right side, me at his left. We made a pathetic little wall, but it would have to be strong enough to hold back Ryu. The young wolf chieftain’s self-satisfied face fell when he saw us, then knotted itself into an ogre’s hostile grimace. I saw the men in his hunting party stop short and exchange nervous looks at the sight of three shamans barring their way.

“What nonsense is this, Master Daimu?” Ryu demanded. “Step aside!”

“With respect, Lord Ryu, we will not,” Daimu replied.

“You have no business keeping me from bringing back what’s mine. And you—!” He jabbed a finger at Rinji, who flinched but held his ground. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be waiting for our guardian spirit’s voice. Are you sacrificing that out of loyalty to your old teacher? I was never one of those who called you a fool, but you’re in danger of changing my mind.”

“My lord …” Rinji shrank back, expecting more abuse, only to be ignored as Ryu turned his wrath on Daimu again.

“Do you believe it’s safe for you to block me because I would not dare
force
a shaman out of my way? A
real
shaman gives his life to the gods! He doesn’t interfere in other matters.”

I took a step forward. It was past time for me to speak.
“Lord Ryu, you speak the truth.” I made sure my voice reached every Ookami who had followed their chieftain’s hunting party to the gates. “A true shaman’s calling is to keep the balance of peace and harmony between our world and the spirits’ realm. When we see someone about to anger the gods, we cannot stand by. If the spirits punish him and we could have prevented it, we are guilty of shattering the balance between worlds as much as he.”