A Parent's Story (2)
The Emperor stared blankly up at the sky, if only for a moment. Until just now he had been a father howling himself hoarse for his daughter—but in this instant, he was reduced to a single, ordinary man.
"Ah... ahh..."
At last he understood every word and gesture Delphin had offered. He understood how the great Knight of Steel had been broken. One knew it by instinct, merely by looking. The difference in stature was absolute. Even to gaze upon it felt like a sin. Crushed beneath that pressure, his body still trembled with rapture.
"O Great One..."
Had it not been for the Crown Princess, the Emperor would have kept his head bowed to the earth.
"I... I dare to beg of you. Please... your mercy..."
Ah. In the end, he could not finish. It was not a matter of courage or of fear. He simply could not open his mouth. He could not face it. A mouse before a cat. No—an ant before a man. No, no. Even that comparison did not begin to serve.
Perhaps because he was buckling under the weight of it, a voice rich with consideration reached him.
This is nothing more than an answer to a parent's heart, given for the sake of a child.
So do not expect such a thing from this day forth.
"I... I shall take it to heart! O Great One!"
The red bird surged into the sky. At the same time, the day began to fade. Darkness came on, and a chill filled the world.
"Ah—ahh!"
Pull yourself together. This was no time to stand here stunned. A path of fire. A path of fire! The Great One had commanded that a road be made—to his daughter. He had to guide it all the way to where the Imperial Palace stood!
For the briefest instant, doubt flickered. They would have to light the way all the way to the Imperial Capital—all the way to the palace. If this being harbored any wicked intent, disaster would follow. They would be rolling out a carpet and bidding it welcome.
...We have gone mad. We are not in Our right mind.
A moment ago he had not even dared lift his head properly—and now he presumed to sit in judgment of a being that was not human. Thinking himself far too steeped in worldly suspicion, the Emperor called for his chamberlain.
"Chamberlain!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
"Have fires lit at once along the great road that leads to the Imperial Capital! Not campfires—beacons. Raise them so they can be seen from the sky. Do you understand?"
An ordinary servant might have asked why. The chamberlain only answered that it would be done. He had been, all his life, a steadfast vassal at the Emperor's side—and a true friend.
"Sir Delphin. We must return to the palace at once. Will you ride with Us?"
"Of course, Your Majesty."
Far off along the great road, bright flames began to rise. The red bird that had been lingering in the heavens turned and started in that direction. It looked like a single meteor loosed across the dark.
"Faster! Faster still! So that it does not lose the way! Guide it to the Imperial Capital—to the Imperial Palace!"
From the north toward the Imperial Capital. From the cold toward the heat. From death toward life. Along the road where the flames were blooming, the red bird went on.
The Imperial Capital. The Imperial Palace. The Eastern Palace.
"..."
The Empress was barely holding back the sobs that kept trying to break free. The precious daughter she had carried and borne was dying before her eyes. So young—and flickering out like a candle in a draft. If only she could have taken the pain in her place. She would have been glad even to die in her stead. And yet, as a mother, there was nothing she could do.
A thin, ragged breath slipped from the little body. Fever had soaked her through with sweat; her arms and legs hung limp. The imperial physicians had all gathered and strained to find some remedy, but not one of them had found a way. In the end, all that remained was to pray for her recovery—to offer prayers to the all-powerful One above the heavens.
"Crown Princess."
It seemed she might answer at any moment—Yes, Mother!—with that wide, bright smile. The Empress could see it as clearly as if it were happening: the child running to her, asking why she had been called, and tumbling into her arms.
"My darling."
But now she could not even open her eyes, let alone answer. She was only holding on, forcing out those shallow, laboring breaths.
"Ah. Ahhh..."
Tonight was the crisis, they said. She might not live to see tomorrow. A sentence that belonged on a hundred-year-old man, fallen instead upon a child of ten. The fact of it stabbed the Empress's heart a hundred times, a thousand times. If she had known it would come to this, she would have cherished her more, loved her more. She should never have told her that a Crown Princess must carry herself with dignity. She had thought she would have her at her side for a lifetime—and now she was to send her away like this.
The Emperor had said there must be some way, and had gone. Even his fiercest vassals had not dared to hold him back. All they could do was gather before the Eastern Palace and pray for the child's recovery. The Empress had allowed herself hope, too. She had believed there would be some remedy. But by now she had given up on everything. She had let it all go. She asked only that the child stay a little longer—just a little longer—at her mother's side. That before she left, she would say Mama one more time.
O God. At the very least, grant us a farewell.
Time passed. The night deepened. The child's breath grew fainter. The mother held her in her arms and prayed only that she would last one more day. Beyond the window, dawn began to come. The darkness thinned, little by little. But that only meant the Crown Princess's breathing was thinning with it.
"... ...!"
"...! ...!"
A sudden commotion reached her, and the Empress turned her head. She was a gentle woman by nature—but not this time.
"What is this commotion? Who among you is so eager to die that they would raise such a racket?"
A moment later the door opened, and the Head Lady-in-Waiting bowed her head.
"Your Majesty. An imperial command has just arrived."
"An imperial command?"
"His Majesty has ordered that great fires be lit, beginning in the north, passing through the Imperial Capital, and reaching all the way here to the Imperial Palace. The Eastern Palace is in an uproar over that command even now."
The Empress could not hide her bewilderment at so unexpected an order. He had gone as far as the north—and now he was telling them to light fires? There would be a reason. If it was His Majesty, there would surely be a reason. She answered that she understood, and was just gathering the child back into her arms when—
A cry she had never heard before filled the dawn sky.
At once the ladies-in-waiting came rushing in and dropped to their knees.
"Your Majesty! You must flee at once!"
"What on earth is happening? And what was that sound just now?"
"Something strange has just come down from the sky. It is coming toward the Eastern Palace—you must get away this instant!"
"Get away where? And leave the Crown Princess? Leave this sick child behind? No. I would rather die here with her."
Under the unrelenting urging of the Head Lady-in-Waiting and the others, the Empress lifted the Crown Princess into her arms. It did not matter that the child's breath might stop at any moment. She would carry her to the end. There was only one case in which a mother left her child behind: when she died first.
"This way—quickly!"
As they came out of the Eastern Palace, the Royal Guard was visible in a state of taut alarm. They were the bravest and most loyal men in the realm—the Royal Guard itself. Even on their faces, a faint fear had taken hold.
What in the world is happening?
The Empress, still carrying the Crown Princess, turned suddenly. And in that moment, she saw the cause of it all.
"...Ah."
A single red bird, perched upon the roof of the Eastern Palace. Plumage smoldering as if it might breathe fire at any instant. Eyes sharp enough to pierce a person through. That vast being sat there with serene dignity, looking at her. No—more precisely, it was gazing at the Crown Princess in her arms.
The words did not arrive through the ear. They came into the mind, into the chest. The Empress's feet stopped dead where she stood. The ladies-in-waiting, too, did not dare to urge her on. They only stood there.
It was a being she had never seen. It might well be dangerous. And still the Empress could not bring herself to run. With her body shaking, and the Crown Princess held tightly all the same, she could only walk toward the red bird that was calling her.
Hmmm.
The red bird tilted its head for a moment—as if, though it was no human, it had once been one.
This is not a life meant to go out.
Something wicked has been playing tricks.
Not a life meant to go out? Something wicked had been playing tricks?
How fortunate.
For an instant the Empress nearly let her fury spill out. Fortunate? To say that in front of a mother whose child was dying—
This way, they will have nothing to say for themselves.
From behind her, scarlet flame erupted without warning. She turned, and one of the ladies-in-waiting was burning alive.
"Aaaaaagh!"
"Q-quickly, put it out! What in heaven's—"
The voice carried a majesty no one dared defy. Not a soul present could bring themselves to disobey—and the Empress was no exception. She said nothing more.
"Aaaaaagh!!"
The lady-in-waiting, collapsed where she stood, burned all the harder. The Empress was about to turn her eyes from the horrific sight when she saw something strange. From the burning body, a black thing rose. It was not smoke. It was something viscous, clinging, a substance that pulled a deep revulsion from anyone who looked at it.
You cannot deceive my eyes, wicked thing.
With nothing left to cling to, did you covet a child's body?
As that stern voice went on, the black thing writhed this way and that. It seemed to be in agony. It seemed to be trying to flee the pain.
Vanish. Never come again.
The flames ran wilder still and devoured the wicked presence. The maid—no, the thing that had been a maid—melted away to nothing. Everyone who saw it froze in horror.
You were fortunate. You kept your true body far away.
The red bird clicked its tongue and turned its gaze. In those five-colored eyes, the Crown Princess was reflected. Something warm lingered there a moment, then was gone.
She will be all right now.
The Empress, barely recovering her wits, looked down at the child in her arms.
"...Ahh."
The breath that had seemed ready to break off at any instant had come back. The terrible heat had been wiped away. She was no longer in pain. She had only fallen into a deep sleep in her mother's arms—and she was even smiling, as if she were having a happy dream.
"Ah. Ah! Ahhh...!"
A miracle. It was a miracle. The Empress crumpled where she stood, still holding her daughter tight for fear of losing her, and bowed her head.
"Thank you. Thank you. O Great One..."
Thank you. Thank you. I will live the rest of my life in gratitude. Whatever you desire. Whatever price you name. Whatever it may be...
At those words the Empress lifted her tear-streaked face. Do not thank you? How could that be possible?
The red bird spread those vast wings. Then it rose beyond the dawn sky. The radiant presence grew fainter and fainter in the distance.
"Empress!"
"Your Majesty."
The Emperor, who had only just arrived, came running and gathered mother and daughter into his arms. There was no trace of death anywhere upon them. There was only the flame of life, burning fiercely.
A long cry went up—and the red bird was gone. At the same moment, the sun at last came up, driving out every last shadow and pouring light upon the world.
The day that someone had so desperately longed to see had dawned.