Emperor of the Eight Islands: Book 1 in the Tale of Shikanoko (The Tale of Shikanoko series) by Lian Hearn

horses had cleared the ground of grass and were tearing at the tree bark. Shika saddled them and helped Sesshin onto Risu’s back. He rode with his bow ready, but nothing stirred in the forest, no birds, no rabbits, not even a squirrel. The cedars gave way to ancient beeches and live oaks. Beneath the beeches lay the autumn mast in hard reddish pods. Shika dismounted and gathered handfuls, cracking them open in his teeth, but the kernels were thin and barely nourishing.
    “Don’t you have some magic that will tell us where to go or where to find something to eat?”
    “My boy, I have suffered a setback. I need to learn the lesson it has for me before my powers revive.”
    “Should we return to Matsutani?” Shika wondered aloud. “Maybe Lord Kiyoyori will be back by now.”
    “We have been delivered from the Prince Abbot once. We should not put ourselves within his grasp again.”
    “Well, he certainly won’t find us here! No one will even find our bones!”
    Later that day, after they had left the stream and turned eastward, Shika, riding ahead, came on a small clearing and was able to shoot a rabbit before it reached the cover of the undergrowth. He made a fire and cooked the animal, feeding pieces to Sesshin. A little water had gathered among the roots of two trees twisted together. He helped Sesshin drink and lapped at it himself, until the horses pushed him away. The food made him thirstier. It was going to be another cold night.
    “Can you hear water?” he said to Sesshin.
    “I can hear a waterfall very far away.”
    “We must go at first light.”
    “I will teach you a water meditation,” Sesshin said. “Once you master it you can go without water indefinitely.”
    “But can you teach it to the horses?”
    Sesshin did not reply, but arranged himself, cross-legged on the ground, pulling the blanket around him.
    After tethering the horses securely, Shika sat down next to him.
    Sesshin said, “I sat under a waterfall for seven days and seven nights. The water entered my body and entered my bones and then my soul. I can call on it at any time.” His voice droned on while within Shika thirst began to build unbearably. His throat burned, his mouth dried out, his lips were stretched taut and parched.
    “Come close to me and place your mouth on mine,” Sesshin said quietly.
    Shika did so and a gush of cool water rushed into him, spilling over his lips.
    I am dreaming, he thought, I will awaken soon and be thirstier than ever.
    The flow of water stopped, his thirst was slaked, and suddenly sleep overwhelmed him.
    The next morning, Sesshin was lethargic and feverish.
    “I should not have done that,” he said, rambling a little.
    “The water thing? Can you do it again?”
    “Not for a while. You can see how it’s weakened me.”
    “Then we must ride on.”
    “Let’s rest for a day or two until I get some strength back.”
    Shika studied the old man. “I’ll take the horses up to the falls while you rest here. I’ll come back.”
    “Very well. I won’t be going anywhere.”
    Before he left he made a pile of firewood so Sesshin could keep the fire alight. It was a steep climb up the ridge and took most of the day. Once he and the horses had reached the top and could see across the valleys, Shika realized where he was. The waterfall fell down the opposite cliff face, and the stream it formed flowed south toward Kumayama, his childhood home. To the north, beyond the mountains that lay in folds, violet in the evening light, was Shisoku’s place. That would certainly be a refuge, but to get there he would have to fall down the cliff again. Still, knowing where he was made him feel better.
    The horses caught the scent of water and began to scramble down the slope, crashing through the bushes and slipping on boulders. Shika clung to Nyorin’s back, trusting him not to stumble.
    Spray filled the air and the roar of the falls drowned out all other noise. The horses drank steadily. It was bitterly cold