It took a few days for Takaeyama to recover
enough to move on. Harata asked Blue to continue his counsel of the Corduran,
and the Night’s Herald complied. Though he’d lost the look of emptiness
he’d carried before, Takaeyama could still spend days without saying a word,
and was still prone to staring. He’d also taken to crying, sitting silently,
letting tears slip down his face. Blue, in his infinite patience, did nothing to
pressure Takaeyama. He would speak when he was ready.
Keisuke was spending as little time as possible with the rest of the
Champions. He appeared dejected in the few moments that he wasn't looking
absolutely fear-inspiring. Most of the others were afraid of him, and not
particularly sorry that he spent so much time apart. Harata, however, was
concerned that the Commander would sell them out to his Clan. He obviously had
no emotional investment in the Task. If Keisuke was unable to form any feelings
for the other Champions, he’d be very likely to betray them.
Every day that they remained at the outpost dragged by for the Clanless,
who lived in fear that the HeadHunters would descend upon them at any instant.
He was incredibly relieved when Yukiiae informed him that they could leave.
They departed the outpost at dawn, with packs full of supplies, clean and
mended clothing, and far quieter spirits. They continued traveling west. It was
a day’s journey to the shoreline. That night, in the quiet of the forest,
Yukiiae would perform the ritual that would call their guides.
Unbeknownst to the others, the Decameron both feared and loathed what she
must do. It seemed that all which was wrong with her life had grown from her
father performing the same ritual all those years ago. Harata had seen it there
in her eyes, if only for an instant, when they’d left the place she lived.
“You’ve said your goodbyes?” he’d asked, in a friendly manner.
There was no one else around, but perhaps she’d bid her farewells
the night before. She only smiled at him sadly and shook her head. With
that motion, she visualized all of the blades that had cut her from the others
in her life. Harata could see it then, that shadow of fear and loneliness.
“Let’s go,” she said with a forced cheerfulness. She bent down and
picked up the grey and white rabbit that had so startled Harata in the forest.
“You’re taking the rabbit?”
“Kinjal goes everywhere with me.”
“Suit yourself.”
You’re scared, Kinjal said to Yukiiae as she snuggled him into
her bag.
You know why I’m scared.
You humans put far too much importance on symbolism. It’s a different
thing, and you knew you’d have to do it.
Yeah, I know, but… I just don’t like being reminded is all.
I know. Perhaps once this is over you can go back to trying to forget.
It’s hard to forget with that Angemal around.
Be that as it may…
Yukiiae turned her attention away from Kinjal and back to Harata. She
tried her best to compose herself for the others, who waited by a path into the
forest. It is a different thing, she told herself. Still, she
couldn’t help but remember the faces of those who had long since left her
life. As though he could sense her disquiet, Keisuke shot her that crooked, evil
grin of his. She shuddered.
They made camp that night in the quiet of the forest. Everyone gathered
together in the darkness, held still by the excitement in the air. Yukiiae
explained that while the other Champions need not do or say anything, they must
all be present, in order to be judged.
“There’s little chance that we’ll be denied passage, so don’t be
nervous,” the Decameron said to the rest.
From her bag she pulled four shallow clay bowls. In one she placed dirt
she took directly from the forest floor, in the next water from the stream
Chieko had played in. The third she filled with twigs that she set alight. In
the last one, she simply breathed. She then traced a perfect circle in the
ground with her finger. She placed the bowls along the line at equal intervals.
She crouched in the center of the circle, one hand resting flat on the ground.
Her touch seemed reverent, her countenance still. Though she was silent, she was
speaking.
We, the Champions of Diasminion, cry out to be judged.
Beside Blue, Takaeyama tensed, then jumped a little. He seemed to come to
life for the first time, his eyes clear and keen. He felt it- the magic
potential of that place- exploding around him. It had gone from a sluggish,
placid pond to a thundering sea. The shock startled him. Gently, as though
without thought, Blue rested his hand upon Takaeyama’s arm, stilling him.
Takaeyama felt his attention drawn for a moment from the immense power
surrounding him to the man beside him. He looked for a moment in wonder, as if
he’d just awakened from a long and troubled sleep.
Nearby, Chieko, open mouthed, stared at the circle.
“Wow!” she breathed, sounding like a child at her first fireworks
display.
Within each of the shallow bowls surrounding Yukiiae, there was a strange
turbulence. The water churned, as did the dirt, the fire leapt, the air began to
swirl. The space around Yukiiae began to glow with the red color of her shirt,
her hair, the red stone in the bracelet that dangled from her wrist. Figures,
strange in shape and proportion, appeared above the bowls.
“They’re Elementals.” Blue’s voice was barely audible. He’d
seen Elementals in their proper planes before, but on Qian Ra? What could they
be doing here?
Yukiiae’s attention was focused entirely on the creatures before her.
She took no notice of the startled, awe-struck faces of the other Champions. The
fiery Elemental spoke, its voice the crackle of burning twigs, the whoosh of
consumed oxygen.
What is the purpose of the journey you wish to take?
At
this point, the usual response would be: “To pay homage to those who protect
us, and to gain from their wisdom.” However, the answer must be true, and as
such, Yukiiae altered the traditional words. She spoke the line she’d been
practicing.
To fulfill the Legend, the Champions have been instructed to seek out
the Guardians.
The fairy-like Elemental of air spoke next, breezy voice full of
child-like concern.
Some of the Champions are unwilling.
We are all bound to this Task, and we shall complete it.
Next spoke the Elemental of Water, bubbling out its words.
Some of the Champions are corrupt.
Yukiiae knew she must not falter, must not fall prey to the temptation of
giving up. What was the answer? What could she say?
We are only human beings. It is difficult for our souls to remain
pure.
In some the corruption runs deep.
Perhaps that may be so, but we have no choice but to continue on. For
whatever reason, we are the ones who have been chosen. We must go to the
Guardians. If we fail to do this, the world will be lost.
This answer seemed to satisfy the watery
Elemental, for it questioned her no further. Last, the Elemental made of dirt
spoke. It was an old, familiar acquaintance of Yukiiae’s. She was glad for its
presence, the well-known rumble of its voice.
You have kept your promise and
fulfilled your half of the bargain, for which I am glad, the Elemental
began. However, I am concerned… Some of the Champions are weak.
Weakness in body does not imply a
weakness in spirit.
Yes, this is so, but the way will be
long and arduous.
Such a trial can only instill
strength.
Enemies beset you.
We will find a way to survive.
The
Elementals fell silent then. At this point, Yukiiae knew she must simply wait
for their answer. Outside the circle, Kazuki fidgeted. He could not understand
the language being spoken, nor could any of the others. Despite the spectacle of
the Elementals, he was beginning to grow bored. Mina, on the other hand, was
still watching with keen interest. What were these creatures, and why hadn’t
they been discovered before?
Within the circle, they could see
Yukiiae’s eyes go muzzy and unfocused, as though she was seeing something in a
world of dreams. This went on for a few minutes until finally her eyes cleared.
She bowed in turn to each of the creatures, lingering a bit longer with the
planetary Elemental. Then, they disappeared, sinking back into the substances
from which they’d come. After they’d gone, the bowls stood empty, robbed
even of their initial contents.
The Decameron remained crouched in
the circle, and everyone was silent. They all stayed frozen like this for quite
some time.
Eventually, Yukiiae stood and left
the circle. She returned to the others and sat down with them.
“We’ve been granted passage to
the Guardians. I now know the way. The Lair of the Guardians lies in the
Otherlands.”
“The Otherlands?” It was Harata
who spoke, dismayed. How could they all manage to get across the ocean?
“I expected as much. My father
made the Pilgrimage when I was young.” Yukiiae spoke softly, struggling to
hold the fearful image in her mind at bay. It threatened to consume her, to drag
her into despair.
“We’ll have to cross the
ocean.”
“You did that once already,
didn’t you?” Chieko pointed out. “We could just do what you did.”
“I stowed away,” Harata
explained patiently. “It’s not that easy for one person. Ten people would
definitely be caught.” He turned back to Yukiiae. “How do the Decameron do
it?”
“We have ships, but they don’t
like us leaving the country. We have to fly a flag with our Clan’s emblem to
ensure safe passage, but… but sometimes the Coast Guard sinks the ships
anyway.” Why? Why am I being made to remember this? The bloated corpse
of the man that had been her father lay baking in the sun, nibbled by crabs. Her
mother was tearing out her hair. Her sister was shivering and cursing. Stop.
Please stop thinking about this. Just as she couldn’t tear her eyes away
from her father’s body all those years ago, she could wipe the image from her
mind now.
“Maybe we could use one of the
Decameron ships anyway. Do you think they’d let us?”
“It’s not impossible…”
The Champions sat quietly, thinking.
Most of them had no idea where they might find a ship. Perhaps approaching the
Decameron was the best option they had…
“Wait!” Chieko sprung to her
feet, spreading her arms wide in triumph. “I know where we can get a
boat.”
She waited, like a ringmaster, for
her audience to gain the correct level of anticipation. She grinned widely and
informed them,
“We can use my dad’s. I’m
allowed to take it anytime I want, and I can drive it. It’s a big
yacht- big enough for all of us.”
“Where is it?” Harata asked
urgently.
“Down south, at our beach house in
Kinumi.”
“What if he finds it missing and
reports it to the police?” Mina’s voice had once again assumed its skeptical
edge.
“I’ll leave him a note at the
house. Daddy won’t mind.” Chieko was overcome by a sudden loneliness for her
father, which caused her to sniffle a bit.
“Seems like the best we can do,”
Harata stated resignedly. “So tomorrow we’ll start heading south along the
coast. How long do you think it will take us to get to Kinumi?”
There was a brief, collective
silence, as they all pondered the question. It was Mina who answered.
“About three weeks, as long as the
weather holds, and we don’t run into any… uh, obstacles.”
“Okay, then. I suppose that’s
all for tonight,” Harata said rather anti-climactically. “Chi, you wanna sit
first watch?”
“Sure.”
With that, the group of Champions
dispersed, most headed for bed. Yukiiae returned to the circle she’d drawn in
the dirt and picked up the dishes she’d left sitting there. After obliterating
the circle to the best of her ability, she slipped off unnoticed into the woods.
There, she let the horror overcome her, giving in to the agony of recollection.
