Spirit's Chosen (49 page)

“Rinji, I don’t need you to—”

“You do,” he said, indicating the chaos around us. People were rushing this way and that, choking on the smoke as they called out for help, grasping each other’s clothing as they begged for aid.

“Have you seen my father?”

“The roof of my house fell in! I called my daughter’s name, but there was no answer and I can’t move the beams alone!”

“Can you help me find something to bind up wounds? My husband was hit in the head by a falling timber, and there’s so much blood!”

Knots of workers were already laboring over the ruins of houses, shouting into the rubble. An answering voice was cause for cheers, but silence was only a momentary discouragement. As they hauled aside the remnants of pit
house roofs they did not pause to ask if the trapped souls within were their clanfolk or their slaves.

The village pathways were thick with debris. Everyone worked at a frenzied pace, not bothering to notice where they tossed the lighter pieces of rubble. A chunk of wood came flying at us. Rinji pulled me out of its way just in time. His face was stern and there was a stubborn look in his eyes as he said, “Where do you want to go?” It was clear that he was not going to let me go alone, and I saw the wisdom in accepting this.

“Ryu’s house. Quickly.”

He took my arm and strode through the ruins of his village. Storehouses leaned against one another like drunkards. Smashed clay jars poured out the grains that should have fed this clan until harvest.

If there will be a harvest
, I thought. No one had listened to the spirits’ words of warning. No one had gone to stand watch in the terraced fields. When the dragon twisted his back under the mountain and the thick earthen walls of the rice paddies cracked open like eggshells, no one was there, ready to cram mud into the breaches before everything was lost.

We passed many of the nobles’ houses before we reached the chieftain’s home. The bulky pillars that supported these grand dwellings were no more than stalks of autumn-faded grass between the dragon’s claws. Many had toppled, taking the houses with them. Some creaked and swayed dangerously, as though ready to fall if brushed by a butterfly’s wing. Some still stood, but split open like the skin of an overripe
fruit. The proud homes of the highborn and the pit houses of the common folk were equals in the blind, indifferent power of the earthquake.

So were the dead: rich or poor, old or young, man or woman. We saw them everywhere. We heard the wailing of those who had loved them, brought them out of the wreckage, arranged their bodies so they no longer looked like broken dolls. I caught sight of one small, cloth-draped shape and could not hold back a cry.

Rinji made an awkward attempt to hug me, but I was already running as fast as I could. Too many ghosts were rising, and I dreaded seeing my brother’s face among them.

Rinji caught up to me just as I reached the chieftain’s house. It was now no more than a pile of broken timbers, scattered thatch, and swirling dust that blurred the figures moving away from the rubble. Lady Sato was the first to emerge into clearer air, followed by Chizu. Her arms were empty and my heart sank until I saw Ryu come after her, his infant son held tightly and tenderly to his heart.

“Lady Himiko!” He was smiling and weeping at once, and he looked like a man who has witnessed miracles. “He saved them,” he said in a hushed voice. “Master Daimu rescued my family, my dearest ones”—his awestruck gaze returned to the baby—“my Arashi. By the time I reached the house, they were already out of harm’s way. If I had stopped him, they—they would be—” He began to sob.

“He was wonderful,” Chizu said, her face shining. “The house shook and slid and tilted over. The ladder fell and we were too high up to jump, but he arrived in time to set it back in place, climb up, and—”

“Where is he?” I demanded, seizing her shoulders. “And where is my little brother? Where has Daimu taken him?”

“Taken him?” Her look of joy faded. “When the earthquake struck, your brother shrieked and ran to the back of the house, where he sleeps. I tried to go after him, but I was holding the baby, and the house slipped, and I was calling his name, and Lady Sato was screaming that the ladder was gone, and—and—” She trembled, reliving those moments of too-recent terror. Biting her lip, she regained control of herself and went on: “Master Daimu got us out of the house, then saw that Noboru was missing. I told him where the child was hiding. He ordered us to move as far from the house as possible and then … he went back.”

I stared at her in disbelief, then turned my head toward the demolished house. “No,” I said.
“No!”
I flew headlong into the shroud of dust, clawing madly at the ruins, calling the names of my brother and my beloved again and again and again!

“Himiko …” Daimu’s voice came to me so faintly that at first I thought it was a cruel illusion. “Himiko, we are here … back here.”

I clambered over the fallen pieces of the wolf chieftain’s house, my heart soaring.
He’s alive! Daimu is alive, and he said
“We
are here”! That must mean Noboru is safe too. Oh, may the gods be praised!

The dust was settling. I followed the sound of Daimu’s voice and found him half buried under an open tangle of fallen beams. He smiled weakly when he saw me and shifted his body just a little. The owl-eyed, anxious face of
my little brother peered up at me before his mouth twisted sharply down at the corners and opened in a lusty yowl.

Somewhere behind me I could hear Ryu’s voice shouting orders. A group of five strong warriors appeared and began to move away the timbers arching over Daimu and Noboru. My brother was the first to be freed. He buried his face against me so deeply that I was sure it would leave a bruise.

Let it leave a hundred!
I thought gladly, embracing him.

Ryu dropped to one knee beside us. “The child is all right?” he asked with genuine concern. I could only nod, too happy to speak. “Himiko … Lady Himiko, from this moment—now—you and your brother will be treated with all respect and every honor. There will be no more talk of hostages, or banishment, or”—his voice dropped to a shamed whisper—“or sacrifice. You truly are the greatest among shamans. You foresaw this and tried to warn us. It is thanks to you that my family survives. How can I repay such a debt?”

“There is the one you must repay,” I said, nodding to where his men had finally extricated Daimu from the fallen house. Two of them lifted him clear while two more removed as much of the quake debris as possible before their comrades set him down. The fifth man removed his tunic and rolled it into a support for Daimu’s head.

With Noboru clinging to me, I moved gracelessly to attend my beloved. His eyes were closed, but the lids fluttered when I took his hand in mine. “Did you see them?” he asked softly. “Ryu’s family …”

The wolf chieftain’s shadow fell across us. “They are safe,” he said, choking on unshed tears of gratitude. “Master
Daimu, I swear to you by the precious lives you rescued, you may name anything you desire and it will be yours. If your shrine has fallen, it will be the first structure we rebuild. Your marriage to Lady Himiko will be a celebration that this clan will remember forever. Your household’s share in our harvests—if the gods have spared our fields—will be twice as great as mine.”

Daimu smiled. “Don’t promise me
too
much, Lord Ryu. You might regret it. Are you sure you want me to marry this”—he coughed before he could finish the joke—“troublemaker?”

“Please bring him some water,” I said to one of the men who had freed Daimu from the wreckage. “This dust is awful; it’s choking him and he’s covered with it. See how pale he looks? Rinji!” Daimu’s former student was with us at once, crouching at my elbow. “Find the best house that’s still standing. He should be brought there and made comfortable before we begin treating him.”

“Of course, Lady Himiko.” Would he always speak to me with such an air of apology from now on? “I’ll also see if the shrine still stands, or at least hasn’t been destroyed completely. I hope to salvage some of the remedies and the ingredients; we’ll need to make more.” He glanced at the darkened bloodstain on Daimu’s sleeve where Ryu’s sword had slit fabric and flesh. “And bandages,” he added as he rose to go.

“Rinji … wait. Stay with me.” Daimu’s request rasped from his throat. The ongoing chaos of the ravaged village made it difficult to hear, but I thought I detected a low, eerie crackling in his breath.

“Noboru,” I said in a quiet voice. “Little Brother, I need your help.” He looked up at me with inquiring eyes but still clung close. “Lord Ryu must stay here for now, but Lady Chizu needs someone strong to stand by her, to protect her and the baby.”

“Come with me, Big Sister,” he whispered.

I shook my head. “I must stay here too. You’re a big boy, and you will be our leader someday soon; you can do this.” I gave him a ferocious hug. “I know you won’t disappoint me.”

“Yes, Big Sister.” He still looked scared, but he trotted off.

“Why did … you do that, Himiko?” Daimu spoke with his eyes closed. I stroked his brow and tried not to shudder with alarm at how clammy it felt. “Why … send Noboru … away?” Every utterance was a struggle.

“He’s seen enough unhappy sights for one day.” I battled tears.

“What’s the matter?” Ryu broke in. “Why are you talking like that?” He seized the edges of the slash on Daimu’s sleeve and pulled them apart, revealing the wound below. It was hardly more than a nasty scratch, and he said so for everyone to hear. “And this is the only mark on you, Master Daimu, besides some insignificant scrapes and bruises. It’s nothing,
nothing
! Look, Lady Himiko is crying! Tell her that there’s no need for that. Tell her you’ll be well!”

Daimu sighed, then coughed again. A bubble of blood glittered and burst at the corner of his mouth. “She knows … truth. Give her … your thanks … not me. Her vision saved … saved …” The nerve-racking sound
strangling his breath was harsher. The whiteness of his lips stood out in shocking contrast to the thin trickle of red moving slowly down his chin.

I lifted him gently so that his head was cradled in my arms. “Daimu … my beloved … my only one …” The Ookami warrior returned with water and a rag. I tried to help Daimu sip from the bowl, but he shook his head feebly. His eyelids drooped and fell. I used the water to wash his face instead, possessed by the ridiculous hope that its cooling touch would revive him.

“O spirits, hear me,” I murmured fervently. “You who dwell in all things, you who heal the wounds that fire and flood, drought and quake inflict upon the earth, heal him. Do not tear my heart away. In mercy’s precious name, do not part us now.”

“Himiko …” Daimu’s voice had become the sighing of an autumn wind. “My Himiko … you hear the gods more … more clearly than I ever did. Hear them now, my beloved … my bride.…” A last breath, and his spirit flew away.

I saw it go. I swear this by all that I have ever loved, I saw Daimu’s spirit rise and cross the shadowy border between worlds. I held his lifeless body in my arms and felt the tears dry on my face as he walked into the willow grove I knew so well.

Reikon was waiting in the dappled shade of the willows’ drifting branches. The two spirits drew near to one another, as though some god’s unseen hand were moving a mirror closer and closer to the thing that it reflected. But there was no telling which of these two was merely the
image and which the reality. Before my eyes they melded into one—the prince of my spirit, the love of my heart, the keeper of my soul.

Do not mourn me, Himiko
. The words brushed over me as delicately as the touch of willow leaves.
Do not spend your strength or waste your powers in grief. You know the truth
.

I nodded, neither knowing nor caring if he could see it. I did know: my life’s purpose still lay before me. This blessed land, favored so generously by the gods, was shattered into more fragments than any dragon’s dance had ever left behind. Clan mistrusting clan, clan battling clan, clan enslaving clan, when it was all the same as mistrusting, battling, and enslaving ourselves!

Now the grove became a swarm of countless spirits. My beloved disappeared into their midst. I called to him by his name as a prince of the spirit world and by the name of the young Ookami shaman who had been mine for such a sorrowfully short time. Reikon or Daimu, spirit or mortal, he had been swept away.

Now the spirits summoned me:
See, Himiko! See what awaits you! See the balance and beauty of the land! Grandfather Pine grows tall and shelters the wolf and the boar, the deer and the hawk alike, in harmony. Death too has its place here, but death within set boundaries. The hawk strikes from above, but sheds blood only to satisfy his hunger. The wolf hunts and kills, but does not slaughter. Remember this, Himiko
.

Remember this, O princess, shaman, queen. Remember this, my cherished Daughter
. The sun goddess stood before me. Her arms were empty, but her cupped hands were heaped with the shards of the dragon stone. One by one they rose into
the air. One by one, they joined together as I watched and as she spoke:
Become what you have always known you could be. Become the healer, the counselor, the comforter, the one who builds a path between worlds. Become this vision and this memory. Bring this teaching to every clan your life will touch until your touch makes all clans one
.

Fascinated by the glittering fragments, I stretched out my fingers to touch one before it could reunite with the rest. I scarcely brushed its jagged edge, but that slight contact was enough: a long cut opened from the tip of my left hand’s smallest finger to the base of my wrist.

I cried out in pain and found myself in a world where a village lay in ruins, an unknown path lay before me, and the only one I could ever love as my soul’s other self lay dead in my arms.