Firefly Page 6

  With as much dignity as if he was fully clothed, he led the way to the base of the peak and began to climb briskly. He also took care of me, in a brusque, brotherly way. He pointed out fingerholds to me, waiting impatiently as I fumbled. But the higher we climbed, the dizzier my senses spun and the slower I climbed and the further away Isamu drew from me.

  Now, he was so far above me, he was no more than an outline. And I knew I was doomed to die this day. The moss encrusted on the rock might have taken the whole of my life to grow into a velvet-smooth platform, but it tore beneath my fingers as easily as paper. A particularly vicious blast of icy wind shot past me, and it was the final assault. My body was forced another fraction away from the viciously jagged rock beneath me, and my world stood still for a final moment.

  In a very short time, I would fall. It had taken me hours to climb this high up the mountain face, feeling carefully for each crevice to wedge my poor, bleeding fingers into. My toes were still poised on a narrow shelf of rock, but they could not hope to hold me in place. I was mute with terror.

  “Do not fear death, little sister. It is not the samurai way.” Isamu’s voice was close again, and a moment later, his cold hand was clamped into the small of my back as he pushed me firmly back against the mountain face. My nose scraped the bare rock where I had dislodged the moss. My belly shrieked with pain as it rubbed against a jagged edge. I didn’t care. I was alive! My time for death had not come yet!

  Elation gave me the boost I needed and my fingers found a shallow depression in the rock. Relief made me brave. I turned my head and laughed at Isamu, jerking my chin upward.

  “Race you!” I called. He laughed back at me and began to move at once, his movements so smooth it was like watching a dancer. I would have none of that. I swung myself up alongside him and then, finding a fairly deep fault, I gripped tightly with my aching fingers and hauled myself past him. I was first on to a shallow overhang, Isamu beside me a moment later. We sat together panting, both too exhausted to speak. Isamu put his hand on my shoulder and gripped it tightly. I recognized the gesture as one of mutual respect, and my entire body filled with joy.

  “Relish the moment, Keiko,” he said finally. “It will never come again. This is your first mountain; the second and the third and all the rest will be easy after this.”

  I understood he was speaking symbolically. There was no need for me to climb any more mountains after this one. But there would be a need for me to conquer my fears in other ways. For me to prove myself time and time again. But each time, I would know that I had climbed my mountain. That I had nothing more to fear.

  I smiled at him happily. “How much further?”

  “Not far.” Isamu leaned so far out that I was afraid he would lose his balance. “See up there?”

  I followed his pointing hand with my gaze. A long way up, I could see what looked like a haphazard collection of twigs, perhaps thrown together by the spiteful wind that whistled around me constantly. Even though Isamu was clad only in a loincloth, the same as me, he appeared not to be affected by the cold at all. I wondered in amazement how he did it.

  “That’s it?” I had expected something much grander and was disappointed.

  “Yes. Can you hear anything?”

  I listened carefully. There was nothing but the sound of the wind, biting at us with icy teeth. “Nothing.” I was reluctant to admit it; if Isamu was asking me to listen, then surely there should be something for me to hear?

  “Neither can I. That’s excellent. I saw the mother bird fly off to hunt just before we started to climb. If she has prey, then she will be back soon. That will be dangerous for us. She’ll do anything to protect her chicks.”

  Isamu sounded delighted. I had visions of him tearing the mother golden eagle apart with his bare hands and shuddered. I put my arms around myself, hoping he would think it was the cold that was making me shiver.

  “You’ve cut your breast.” Isamu traced the outline of my breast with his finger. The blood must still have been running as he put his finger to his mouth and licked it. “Does it hurt?”

  “A little,” I admitted. Isamu delved around at head height and found a clump of greyish lichen. He grabbed it and then leaned forward and dabbed at my lacerated breasts in the most matter-of-fact manner, as if I was a child who had fallen and hurt her knee. The lack of eroticism made his touch oddly, intensely sensual. I licked my lips and looked anywhere but at my brother. I was relieved when he threw the bloody lichen away.

  “That will stop the bleeding, and it should stop the cuts going bad. Remember that. If there’s no lichen, moss will do.”

  I nodded and took a deep breath. The afternoon was becoming old, and I was becoming nervous. I did not want darkness to catch us. I glanced upward, and Isamu nodded.

  “Time to move. From now on, you must be very quiet. Do not speak. Try not to breathe heavily. Make sure wherever you grip, there are no stones that might fall. Understand?”

  I nodded. Since Isamu had stopped me from falling, I had not been the least bit nervous. Now, I was apprehensive again. He swung away from me easily, and I followed in his tracks. Only this time, I did not look down.

  The going was easier here, and we reached the nest quite quickly. Isamu put his finger to his lips as we reached the ledge with the untidy pile of twigs. He leaned forward and began to part the sharp branches carefully. I craned around him, anxious to see our prize at last.

  We were both so engrossed, neither of us heard the mother eagle returning. She was on us like a vengeful demon, throwing her head back and shrieking her anger. I had a spare moment when I saw the dreadful beak gawping wide, and then she was attacking Isamu, lacerating him with her talons and pecking fiercely with her beak. I screamed in panic, and I was sure for a heartbeat that Isamu, too, was terrified. Then he was shouting instructions at me.

  “Grab one of the chicks! Any one, it doesn’t matter. You can’t carry it back down. Shove it as far into your loincloth as you can, then go. I’ll follow.”

  I reacted impulsively. Perhaps it was because I was a woman and understood in the depths of my own body what the mother eagle was feeling. Would I have let a strange monster steal one of my babies? I would not. Instinctively, I felt sorry for the poor bird, and I knew she was as frightened as I was. But I also knew with a terrible certainty that if I left my brother to the mercy of this particular mother, I would never see him again. She would die before she let the male intruder who was trying to steal her babies leave this mountain alive. Already, she had cut him in many places. He was streaming with blood. In the space of a heartbeat, her talons ripped at his face and I saw blood stream down his cheek. If he could see at all, it would only be out of the uninjured eye. I was certain it would be impossible for him to climb down the mountain alone. She would harry him all the way down until he could no longer resist trying to beat her off and his other hand lost its grip, leaving his body free to follow the call of the earth as he plunged helplessly to his death.

  My elder brother was clearly helpless. He had no room to draw the short dagger thrust into his own loincloth. Even if he somehow managed to do it, the effort would unbalance him and he would fall to his death. As I watched, he put his hand out to fend the golden eagle off, and she immediately fastened her beak into the back of it, tearing the skin. As she panted, I saw her tongue was reddened with Isamu’s blood.

  The great onna-bugeisha Tomoe Gozen had listened to her man when he ordered her away from him in his last moments on earth. I would not. I knew what I had to do with an icy clarity that had nothing at all to do with thought. I was governed by sheer instinct. I would not let my brother die here in these desolate mountains. Nor did I want to hurt this beautiful bird that was doing no more than defending her own babies.

  I pulled my own dagger out of my loincloth and set it down on the icy ground. It was useless in this situation and would only get in the way. I was so cold that the blade cut me quite deeply when I pulled the weapon out, but at that moment, I did
n’t notice. I straightened, glancing around to get the lay of the land—or rather the ledge—where we were trapped. I may be tall, but I am also very slim. I guessed I had just enough room and moved quickly before terror could tell me otherwise.

  Isamu had his back to the rock face. He must have seen me moving in his peripheral vision. He screamed at me, “No! Keiko, no. Get down. Get away from here. Grab a chick while she’s distracted by me. Save yourself. Go!”

  I ignored him and moved quietly and slowly to the eagle. There were eight paces between us; I counted each one in my mind. She turned her incredible head to face me as I got within touching distance and I saw the anguish in her yellow eyes. I apologized to her silently for the further terror I was about to put her through.

  When I thought I was close enough, I paused. Not to get my balance, but to ensure that she was watching me. As soon as I was sure that she was facing me, as quickly as I could, I thrust my arms out, my fingers hooked into claws that mimicked her own talons. I threw my head back and screamed. The sound echoed around the mountains, coming back at us time and time again, finally diminishing into the sigh of the wind. The golden eagle flicked her head from side to side but continued to claw at Isamu. I screamed again, thrusting my head as close to her as I dared. I felt her pain in my own throat as something gave within me in response to the impossible noise I had made.

  Finally, she gave way. With a great scream of her own, she backed away and took flight to circle above us. Isamu grabbed my arm and dragged me to the lip of the shelf. I tore myself away from him for as long as it took to push my hand in the nest and grope around until my fingers found feathers. I scooped the protesting chick out and thrust it blindly into the folds of my loincloth, fumbling it around to my side.

  “Quickly,” he mumbled. His voice sounded as if he was speaking through a mouthful of food. I glanced at him and shuddered as I saw that his lips were so torn, they looked like strips of raw meat. “I’ll go first. Follow me.”

  There was no finesse in our descent. The battle with the eagle had taken longer than I had realized. Dusk was falling and the cold air was beginning to take on a crystalline quality that forecast frost. My elation was ebbing rapidly and I began to shake. My hands were so cold I couldn’t feel the rock surface; twice I would have fallen if Isamu hadn’t grabbed me. The second time, he hung on to me by my hair. I felt that all right.

  Darkness fell around us quickly. The true dark of a night without stars or moon. No matter how hard I peered around, I could see nothing at all, not even the rock face almost in front of my eyes. I had no idea we had reached the bottom until my searching foot hit the ground. Even then, I was so numb with cold and so exhausted that I kept searching for the drop with my toes, sure that we had simply come to another ledge.

  “We’ve done it, Keiko. We’re safe.”

  It took a moment or two for his words to penetrate. Suddenly, I was laughing out loud. I was alive! Not only that, but I had achieved the impossible. Isamu laughed with me until suddenly his amusement faded abruptly.

  “The chick. Is it alive?”

  Eight

  The winter wind makes

  Me shiver. In summer, I

  Enjoy a cool breeze

  I was horrified. I had been so intent on getting down the mountain I had not given a thought to our precious prize. I slid my hand in my loincloth and was immediately rewarded with a vicious peck. I held my bleeding finger up to show Isamu, forgetting he could not see in the intense darkness.

  “Well? Is it alive?” he demanded.

  “Alive and well, I think. It just bit me.”

  “Excellent. Come on, we need to get it home.”

  I grabbed the back of his robe and followed him blindly. Until the horses moved, I couldn’t see them. We wasted no time, just threw our robes over our loincloths and knotted our obi clumsily with fingers that could barely feel. Isamu helped me mount. I was deeply touched until I realized his concern was for the chick’s safety rather than mine.

  As we set out, a thin, cold moon peered through the clouds. I rarely rode, and the brisk pace he set worried me. How ironic would it be after all the danger we had already faced if we fell from our horses and perished on even ground?

  But it didn’t happen. Isamu was a superb horseman. He seemed to guide his mount by instinct, avoiding the worst of the ground expertly. I clung on for life itself and simply allowed my docile mare to follow his lead.

  Occasionally, he called back to me, asking if the chick was all right. As it spent most of the journey either scratching or pecking me, I reassured him that it was. It was only when we got home that I began to worry.

  Isamu stood in my room, beaming down at the eagle chick. I had gathered together a makeshift nest of old clothes, and it sat in the middle, making annoyed peeping noises. But I could see that the bird was not right. It was listing to one side and barely moving.

  “What’s the matter with it? Is it hurt?” Isamu demanded anxiously. “Don’t say it’s going to die on us now!”

  I was angry with myself. Just like Isamu, I had not given a thought to anything beyond catching our eagle. Now, I felt guilty. I had snatched this poor chick from its mother without giving a thought to its welfare. It peeped again, sadly this time I thought, and I snatched it up and cuddled it against my breasts. It did not fight, but simply snuggled against me, stealing my warmth.

  “It needs food. Go to the kitchen and get some meat for me. Thin strips. Rabbit would be best, but if there isn’t any, chicken will do.”

  “No. Give me the bird. You go.”

  Of course, the kitchen was women’s territory. No samurai would ever go there. I didn’t have time to argue, the eagle needed food quickly. I handed it to him, and immediately it became agitated, struggling and peeping loudly. Isamu held it at arms-length, bewildered.

  “Oh, give it to me.” I took the bird from his willing hands and snuggled it against me. Immediately, it was quiet again. “Please, brother. There will be nobody in the kitchen at this time of night. Nobody will see you. Bring me a plate of meat for him as quickly as you can. His mother must have been on her way back to feed the brood when we took him. He’s starving to death.”

  Isamu sucked a fresh cut the chick had inflicted on his hand. I heard him grumbling to himself all the way down the corridor.

  He brought me rabbit. I dangled it in front of the chick. He ignored it. In the short time Isamu had been gone, the bird had grown weaker. He felt cold and no longer struggled even when I held him away from my body.

  “Is it going to die?” Isamu whispered.

  I shook my head. Had we risked our lives to lose our prize now? “Not if I can help it!” I said firmly.

  I wiggled the meat. Smeared it against the chick’s beak. Still, he turned his head away. Finally, in desperation, I put the raw flesh in my own mouth so that it dangled on each side of my lips. I leaned across to the chick and pushed my face close to it. It hesitated, so I did it again. My hair fell on each side of my face with the movement. Perhaps, to the bewildered chick, it resembled its mother’s feathers. In any event, it suddenly pecked at the meat, tearing off a morsel and swallowing it hungrily. I kept the rabbit in my mouth until the chick’s beak was almost tearing at my lips and watched with delight as the bird swallowed what was left. As soon as it was gone, he raised his head, his beak gawping wide, peeping for more. This time, he took the food from my fingers. He ate until his belly was bulging and then fell over, asleep before he hit his nest.

  “How did you know to do that?” Isamu sounded awed. I stared at him in surprise. He was looking at me with a curious mixture of emotions evident in his face. I saw astonishment, and not a little respect. And, perhaps, fear? I burst out laughing.

  “All I did was to try and mimic how his mother would have fed him,” I explained.

  Immediately, Isamu’s face relaxed into amusement. “Oh, is that all? I see.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to retort that he would never have thought of it, but I
bit the words back. On the mountain, we had been almost equal. Here, he was my elder brother and was to be respected.

  “It’s a good thing Father enjoys meat,” I said instead. Father—although a very wealthy man—had a mean streak. He would never simply leave a deer or a rabbit he had killed in the hunt. He insisted that everything that existed had a life, whether it was vegetable or flesh, and hence we could not discriminate between the two. Besides, once they were dead, the animals he hunted were food, and the gods would never approve of food going to waste. So, he insisted we eat flesh. It made sense to me. And anyway Father was Father and automatically correct.

  “Will it be all right, do you think?” My brother, asking my opinion? Now that was surely a first!

  “I believe so. I’ll feed him again in the night if he wakes up. When do you want to give him to Father?”

  Soon, I hoped. Today, if he was at home. I longed to see the delight on his face when we presented our gift. But I was disappointed.

  “Not yet.” Isamu stared at the chick and frowned. “It’s too small at the moment. It barely has any feathers. It could be anything. You need to care for it until it begins to look like a golden eagle.”

  I took a deep breath and looked at my chick through his eyes. He was right. The bird was very young indeed. It was amazing it had survived the trauma of us stealing it and the subsequent journey. I smiled at it, proud that it had clung on to life. I would not let it die, of that I was certain.

  “I’ll need a box for it,” I told him. “And a chicken would be good.”

  “You’ve already got enough rabbit to feed a family. What do you want chicken for?” Isamu looked scornful.

  “Not for it to eat. A live chicken, a placid, fat hen. It can nest beneath her to keep warm.”

  Isamu scratched the back of his neck. He shrugged and yawned widely. “I’ll leave all that to you. I’m going to have a bath to wash away all the blood and muck. Do you want to come with me?”