Guardian of the God - God's Appearance - Part 1 Chapter 2 - The Blue Hand's Hidden Fangs

  Guardian of the God

-

God's Appearance

(Book 5 of the Guardian of the Spirit Series)

 

Author: Uehashi Nahoko

Translator: Ainikki the Archivist

 

  Part 1 - Child of Disaster

Chapter 2 - The Blue Hand's Hidden Fangs

   

   There were excellent natural hot springs near the Herb Market. Many visitors that came to the market also looked forward to using the hot springs. The inns lining the street all had signage in front of their entrances: swords, or horses, or flags of different colors. These symbols and colors represented price ranges and the quality of services offered at each of the inns, including the type of access given to the hot springs. Many merchants of the same class stayed at inns that had the same signage in order to make connections and trade with others of their own status.

    The inn Balsa and Tanda had chosen was a bit farther removed from the main road than the others. It was far from the side of the mountain where many of the other inns were, but it was very close to the center of the market. The two of them had reserved a room earlier and unloaded their things on the upper level of the inn. The inn was large and sprawled over multiple buildings; most were connected to one another by a wide passageway that descended from the main level down to the dining and cooking areas.

    This inn was one where many magic weavers, artists and artisans stayed. When Balsa and Tanda entered the inn's half-circle shaped entrance hall, they saw a small monkey sitting quietly on the packed gravel floor. The monkey wore a piece of red cloth around its neck, indicating that he belonged to an artist of some kind. The monkey wore no leash and no one attended him, but he sat there still and calm.

    "Isn't he cute?" Tanda asked. He smiled down at the monkey. Tanda loved animals and insects. Animals especially seemed to sense this about him. This monkey was no exception: he lifted his face and happily let Tanda pet him.

    Tanda's face while petting the monkey did not remotely resemble that of a thirty-year-old man's. Balsa sighed and took a seat on one of the wooden planks near the door, then removed her shoes. A woman working at the inn came over to wash her feet. She didn't wash Balsa's feet with ordinary cold water, but with warm water from the hot springs.

    "Welcome back," the woman said. "Will you be eating dinner here tonight?"

    "What d'you think?" Balsa called out to Tanda. "Should we eat here?"

    Tanda gave the monkey one last pat on the head and stood up. He nodded at the woman. "Thanks for always taking such good care of us, Toma. Are there any fried mushrooms on the dinner menu today?"

    Toma nodded and smiled. "You've made an excellent choice! I'll make you fried hachal mushrooms for dinner."

    "I guess we're eating here," Tanda said to Balsa. "The food's great."

    The two of them used the water Toma brought them to wash off the dust of the road, then walked down the passageway connecting the inn's main building to the dining area below. Both the kitchen and dining area were in separate buildings away from the inn to help prevent a fire from breaking out.

    The sun was just about to set. The cool autumn breeze felt wonderful against their newly washed skin. When they entered the dining area, they saw that three fires had been lit in pits dug into the ground. The entire place was packed close with people. Smoke hung heavily in the air.

    Dining tables surrounded the cooking fires. Dinner had just begun; many people of different nations were sitting down to eat together.

    Balsa and Tanda looked for a place to sit. A middle-aged man sitting near the outer wall enclosing the dining area waved at them. "Hey! Is that you, Tanda?"

    When Tanda looked at the man, his eyes lit up in recognition. "Sufar!" He turned to Balsa. "He's a Rotan magic weaver. I met him here before while traveling with Torogai. He's a good man, and a good magic weaver—even Torogai respects him. Let's eat with him."

    Balsa nodded and followed after Tanda. Sufar stood up from his seat and came to greet them. There was a hawk called a maro perched on his left shoulder. The bird was only about as large as an adult's closed fist. Even when Sufar stood up, the hawk didn't move at all, but stood still as a statue. Its sharp eyes gleamed with keen intelligence. Balsa didn't think that hawks like that could see very well in the dark, but she got the sense that this one could see perfectly well.

    Balsa felt like she and Tanda were being inspected in some way as they approached Sufar. Sufar had a slight build and was about as tall as Balsa. He appeared to be in his fifties. His hair was cropped short; both his hair and his beard were flecked with gray. As she observed his actions with the hawk, she gained some idea of the type of magic weaving he must have mastered. His light brown eyes shone with the light of his hidden abilities.

    Tanda and Sufar gripped one another by the wrist, greeting one another in traditional Rotan fashion. "It's been too long, Sufar. I'm glad you found us."

    Sufar smiled at Tanda and returned his greeting, but he didn't seem to know what to make of Balsa. Ordinarily he might assume that Balsa was Tanda's wife or lover, but he felt the unmistakable aura of a warrior surrounding her. For her part, Balsa sensed that Sufar was a powerful warrior as well.

    As Tanda took in Sufar's expression, he said, "Sufar, this is Balsa, my childhood friend. She works as a bodyguard and wields a short spear."

    Sufar's eyes widened slightly. "Balsa the short-spear wielder," he said in fluent Yogoese. "Are you the bodyguard that saved Crown Prince Chagum's life? If so, I can't believe my good luck. As a magic weaver, I am keenly interested in your exploits. I heard the tale in a song, but I would enjoy it very much if you would provide me with the precise details of your adventure over dinner."

    Balsa had only been able to save Chagum with Tanda and Torogai's help,  along with the assistance of several others. A water spirit from a supernatural world called Nayugu had laid an egg inside Crown Prince Chagum of New Yogo. Because of it, Chagum's life had been threatened by monsters that had wanted to eat the egg, and by his own father, the Mikado, who'd sent assassins to kill him.

    While eating a delicious dinner, the three of them talked easily together in a friendly way. Tanda did most of the talking, though Balsa occasionally contributed certain points of clarification. The story they had to tell was a long one, so Sufar had the opportunity to observe them both at his leisure.

    Sufar was an insatiably curious man. All magic weavers were a bit odd and hungry for knowledge—and perhaps even a little sinister—but being possessed of simple curiosity didn't make Sufar evil or cruel. He was not the kind of magic weaver that manipulated the shadows in people's hearts. Sufar intended nothing ill in his observations, but occasionally his pointed, personal questions hit close to home, revealing his sharp intellect and perceptive insight.

    After dinner, the three of them continued talking over glasses of maral wine. The topic of conversation shifted to current strange goings-on in Rota. There was news of some kind of enemy raid on a prison called Shintadan. Reinforcements that had been sent to relieve the prison discovered that all the prisoners and guards had been slaughtered, both in and outside the walls. It was disturbing and terrifying news.

    "Around thirty people were found dead, but there was no sign of enemy forces at all?" Tanda asked.

    Sufar drained his glass and placed it on the table. "By chance, I was nearby at Makal fortress at the time of the discovery. All the reinforcements sent to relieve Shintadan were seasoned warriors, but when they came back they looked like their bones had been turned to ice. I rushed to Shintadan immediately after they returned. What I saw there was..." He paused and ran his hands up and down the stem of his glass. He continued in a whisper, "I never thought to see such a sight in this world.

    "At first I thought it was a wolf attack, because a lot of the bodies had what appeared to be bite wounds. But it wasn't a wolf attack. The attack came from something not of this world." He described the various magic weaving methods he'd used to examine the site of the massacre. He said he'd seen the aftermath of the attack through the eyes of dogs. Tanda leaned forward, listening eagerly and nodding whenever he recognized or understood one of Sufar's methods or visions.

    Balsa thought the names given to some of the magic weaving techniques were too long and complicated and  lost track of where the conversation was going. She didn't really get magic weaving.

    The other people in the dining hall finished eating and left. The crowd around them thinned out as Sufar and Tanda talked. Eventually, the only people remaining in the hall with them and Balsa were a few groups of people drinking together in the corners of the room.

    Balsa's gaze fell on a group of four men sitting directly across from her, arranged around a corner table. She frowned at them as if they smelled bad. The two men whose faces she could see were the merchants from Sangal she'd seen leading the two children somewhere earlier in the day. One of them had called the girl shattoi.

    The Blue Hand.

    Thanks to her long years in the bodyguarding profession, Balsa was familiar with the seedy underworld that lurked beneath the surface of everyday reality. It was only natural for her to remember the faces of men that were obviously slave traders. She glanced at them sidelong and verified that they were indeed slave merchants. She remembered seeing the man that had insulted the girl some years before, throwing his weight around in Kosenkyo, the capital of New Yogo.

    Technically, slavery was illegal in New Yogo, b ut there were people that were desperately poor and willing to sell one child if doing so could prevent the rest of the family from starving. The Blue Hand took advantage of these critically impoverished people.  Sometimes a family in New Yogo would need another worker, in which case foreign merchants would sell people from their own countries in order to make money.

    Balsa remembered that the children she'd seen that afternoon had been good-looking. They'd probably sell for a high price. Her heart felt heavy in her chest. Those children were complete strangers. Many children in the world were sold into slavery and would continue to be, no matter what she did. She told herself all this, but it was too late; she'd already decided to involve herself. She didn't want that little girl to fall into the darkness of such an uncertain future.

    The slave merchants from Sangal drained their wine glasses and stood up.

    "Hey...could you wait a moment?" Balsa called out to them. She stood up and followed the men, leaving Tanda and Sufar behind.

 

 

    Chikisa held on to his little sister's hand with all his might. Her face was as pale as if it had been drained of blood. The merchants that were keeping them until they could be sold had force-fed them at meals for the past several days. Today, there'd been so much food on the table that they never would have been able to eat it all. They'd never eaten so much meat or foods fried in oil in their lives before. Their stomachs hurt horribly after every meal.

    But Chikisa's stomach didn't just hurt because of the food. Chikisa knew what the men intended to do with them; the thought of it made his guts roil.

    They were going to sell Asra. They hadn't acquired the two of them to be their own personal slaves; they intended to use Asra's pretty face to turn a profit. Chikisa and Asra were Tal people. Their culture and heritage was looked down upon in Rota, but that wouldn't matter at all in New Yogo. Chikisa knew the merchants' intentions the second they'd fallen in with them, but encountering them really had seemed like good luck at the time. They'd been able to escape that awful prison before any soldiers from Rota captured and killed them like dogs on the side of the road.

    The moment his mother had been executed flashed across Chikisa's memory. His chest hurt like it had been torn open. He gritted his teeth to help bear the pain. He had no time now to cry about his mother's death. He had to protect Asra.

    How had something so awful happened to them? Why had their mother done such a thing to Asra? He felt like Asra had been cursed by something horrifying. He remembered his mother cupping Asra's face in her hands before she died. Asra's eyes had glowed with an eerie light. His mother's expression had terrified him. He shuddered at the memory.

    "Don't be afraid," their mother had said. "Other people are wrong about us. They are blinded by the brightness of the light. While staring at the light, they believe they are seeing the darkness. This is the same thing. Other people can't understand it."

    Their mother had repeated those words over and over again as if she was trying to make Asra believe her by force of will. Chikisa hadn't believed her at all. Asra hadn't said a word since her death. When food was placed in her mouth, she chewed and swallowed. She went to the bathroom on her own, slept and woke each morning as usual. But she hadn't spoken to anyone at all. She hadn't so much as glanced Chikisa's way since they'd left the prison.

    Sometimes, when he squeezed Asra's hand, she'd squeeze back. He guessed that Asra was still in there somewhere, but something had happened to her on a fundamental level. He felt sorry for her. He used to tease her and fight with her all the time, but now he felt nothing but pity for her. Their mother was dead. They could never go home again.

    Five years ago, their father Makkara had been killed by a wolf pack while setting traps in the forest. Chikisa and Asra used to have a normal family with a mother and father, but now they only had each other. The only one that could protect Asra now was Chikisa, but he felt powerless.

    What will happen to us now?  If he was older, he'd take Asra and run. They'd find some way to survive. He was sure there'd be more choices for them if he was an adult.

    Chikisa heard the voices of the slave traders outside the door. The key turned in the lock and the door opened, revealing the slave traders and two other men that Chikisa had never seen before. As they entered the room, Chikisa knew that he wasn't done being scared yet.

    A merchant that looked Rotan turned to face the slave traders. His companion had the features of someone from Yogo. The Yogo merchant approached Chikisa and Asra, speaking in a low and sonorous voice. He extended his hand slowly and gripped Asra's chin, then tilted his head to take a closer look at her. When Chikisa tried to slap the man's hand away, the slaver punched Chikisa hard in the face.

    Chikisa's head slammed into the wall behind him. The inside of his head echoed as if someone had just rung a gong inside it. He almost passed out.

    Asra's blank, doll-like expression turned into a frown. She'd been at least half-asleep up to this point. She felt like she'd been enclosed in a dark quiet place, soothed by murmurs and echoes. She'd seen a smooth clear lake there. Beyond it, her brother's face and the rest of the outside world had been only faintly visible.

    When she heard Chikisa gasp in pain, something within her responded and began flowing into her heart from within. Her eyes became clear and alert. She saw a man she didn't know standing in front of her. He looked at her with clear contempt. His cold stare was positively frightening.

    "Hm. How about three silvers for this one?" the man muttered.

    The Rotan merchant standing behind him laughed. "Let's dispense with your foolish attempts at bargaining. She's exactly what I told you she was. We only bring in the most attractive girls. We've worked together for a long time, so I expect you to pay what we agreed on."

    The man holding Asra's chin let her go, stood up and faced the Rotan merchant. His slow, deliberate way of moving made him appear even more terrifying. "Three silver's my best offer. She's sickly-looking. There are plenty of good-looking girls on the market, but no one'll buy one that's sure to die quickly."

    The Rotan merchant looked at him in sullen silence, then pointed to Chikisa. "You'll have to sell this one with her. Pay a gold coin for both of them, as you promised."

    The man with the terrifying eyes drew the sword from his hip before anyone could blink. "I don't need another starving brat. If you keep complaining, it's not gold I'll give you, but this blade in your chest."

    As Asra listened to their exchange, she finally understood what was happening. Her eyes snapped open wide. They were talking about selling her and her brother! Chikisa was only half-conscious. She heard nothing but the hushed words of the two men bargaining. The two Sangal slave merchants in the room consulted with one another in whispers. They finally agreed to accept three silver.

    As they made their decision, Chikisa's vision came into focus; he could see the people and objects in the room clearly again. His head felt like it had been split in two. His bloody nose swelled and throbbed as he sucked in a painful breath. Asra heard his shuddering breaths and turned toward him.

    "Chikisa?"

    The Yogo merchant grabbed Asra's arm. Asra let out a high-pitched scream like the call of a bird and clung to her brother. "Chikisa! Chikisa!"

    Chikisa took Asra's hand and tried to drag her away from the Yogo merchant, but the Rotan merchant kicked him in the gut. He collapsed against the wall.

    Something in Asra's chest flipped over and squirmed.

    He kicked Chikisa!  Asra released a harsh cry from the base of her throat. Fear and hatred simmered within her and boiled over until it threatened to escape the confines of her body in a conflagration of fire. Her feelings could not be contained. They were so hot that they seared her throat.

    Asra felt like she was turning away from the darkness to face the light. She felt the emotions within her converge into a shining river that cut through the darkness. The sound of the river got louder and louder; she felt that it might soon flow out of her, into the outside world.

    No one in the room could see it, but Asra's neck was surrounded by a ring of light. Asra could feel it even though she couldn't see it. The ring of light smelled a lot like blood. The scent soaked into her body and wafted through the room.

    Guided by the smell of blood, something flowed down the river within Asra.

    God! Please save me!

    Asra took frantic, shallow breaths and looked up at the man that had kicked Chikisa. Her eyes rolled back in her head. All the blood drained out of Chikisa's face as he gripped Asra in a hard hug. "Stop it, Asra! Don't do it!"

    The Yogo slave merchant felt a warm breeze on his face and narrowed his eyes. The next instant, the warm breeze became colder than ice.

 

 

    Balsa stood quietly in the hallway that led up from the dining area into the inn's rooms. The hallway had guardrails to either side. At the very end of the hallway, the inn's paved courtyard was faintly visible below.

    Rooms at this inn were small. If she burst into that room now, there would be six people in it. She wasn't used to acting on such a swift impulse. She was only making problems for herself here. She'd been rebuffed by the slavers in the dining area, so she'd followed them to their room, then returned to the room she shared with Tanda to retrieve her spear. Now that she was outside their door, she'd have to move quickly. Once she was in the room, it was possible that one or another of the men would take the children as hostages.

    Balsa waited for the moment when the Blue Hand would lead the children out of the room. She heard the stifled sounds of conversation between the slave merchants on the other side of the door. After what felt like a long time, she heard the little girl scream. The boy cried out as well. Balsa gripped her spear and prepared to fight.

    Goosebumps rose along Balsa's arms. She didn't know what she was sensing, but whatever it was got jumbled up with the sound of the girl screaming. Someone collided with the door from the inside; the door came loose from its frame and fell into the hallway.

    Blood sprayed from a man's throat all the way up the to the ceiling of the room. Balsa jumped up to the handrail in the hallway and sprang upwards, ducking and dodging as she made her way toward the lower courtyard's garden.

    The handrail she'd jumped from vanished as if it had never existed. Balsa felt the weight of someone's huge unseeing eyes upon her, swinging an invisible weapon with wild abandon. If she'd stayed in the hallway, she would have been cut down.

    She couldn't see it, but Balsa felt something flying toward her; she dodged narrowly just as it hit. She had no time to think. She let her body move on instinct and focused only on avoiding the attacks of her invisible enemy. She'd had the tip of an enemy's weapon pointed at her throat countless times before; the experience of combat had soaked into her bones. Those experiences saved her now.

    Avoiding the blindingly fast attacks of the unseen scythe rubbed her nerves raw. She was completely out of breath. When she brought her arms up to protect her neck and head, she felt a sensation of sharp cold move up her arms.

    It wants to cut my wrists.  Balsa dropped her arms away from her face. The sharp cold feeling shifted to her left side; an instant later the area felt red-hot as the flesh of her stomach was slit open.

    Balsa collapsed to the ground and rolled over, back in the direction of the passageway that connected to the inn's main hallway. She felt her attacker following her. It targeted her neck again; she held her hands up over it to protect it and steeled her resolve. She couldn't strike out at it with her spear like she would with an ordinary enemy.

    But before she could work out a strategy, her enemy retreated. Balsa's breathing was ragged. She lowered her arms from her face and realized she was trembling violently. Her teeth chattered. She tried to clamp down on herself and stop shaking but she couldn't stop. Balsa gave herself a tight hug and willed herself to be still.

    She’ d been shaken to the core of herself. That hadn't happened to her since the day she'd made her first kill. She hadn't been able to stop shaking that day, either.

    Balsa closed her eyes tightly. She heard Jiguro's voice in her ear, low and reassuring: Count your breaths. One, two, three...

    By the time she counted eight breaths, she felt herself calming down. The cut to her side throbbed and became increasingly more painful.

    She heard footsteps nearby. Someone was in the passageway further down. Balsa ground her teeth and crouched protectively over her wound. She crawled slowly down to the end of the passageway, then stood up.

    "Balsa?" Tanda was on the level above her. He leaped over the guardrail and landed nimbly on the lowest level of the inn where Balsa stood. He ran up to Balsa and supported her as she struggled to remain upright. He was surprised at how cold her hands were. Her face was pale and covered in a fine sheen of cold sweat.

    He noticed the cut to her side immediately and helped Balsa climb up the path back to their room so that he could treat her. The passageway to and from the courtyard and the hallway of the inn beyond it were crowded with people, but most of them stepped aside and let Balsa pass when they saw her injury.

    Balsa felt eyes on her back and turned around. There was no one behind her. I'm being watched, she thought, but she didn't know who was doing it. The sensation of being spied on bothered her, but she felt no ill intent in the gaze. Balsa focused on putting one foot in front of the other until she reached her and Tanda's room.

    There was a young woman standing in the hall outside the room where the slave merchants had been cut down. She leaned forward, curiously examining the corpses, one of which had spilled out into the hall along with the broken door.

    When Balsa looked into the room as she passed, she saw Sufar standing in the very center of it with his back to her. His maro hawk was perched on his shoulder. Balsa put pressure on her wound and approached the doorway.

    Sufar turned to look at her. He pointed to the corpses with a severe frown. "They all had their throats ripped out, exactly like the bodies at Shintadan." Sufar looked straight at Balsa.

    Balsa said nothing. She scanned the room until her eyes fell on the two children crouched in a corner. The boy's face was slack with shock and his eyes were firmly shut. The children appeared to be clinging to each other, but on closer inspection it was clear that only the older brother had circled his sister entirely with his arms. He was bent partway over her as if he was trying to protect her—or restrain her.

    Balsa saw that the boy's hands were bleeding. She approached the children slowly and crouched down, then reached out tentatively to touch the boy's forehead. The boy opened his eyes and flinched away from her, trying to press himself and his sister into the wall. He sucked in a huge breath and started shaking all over. His frightened eyes stuck out from his emaciated face so far that they looked like they were about to burst.

    The boy kept holding his sister and tried to move away from Balsa along the wall. She saw faint signs of hostility in his eyes like an echo of what she'd felt from her invisible attacker. The boy set his shoulders and tried to calm himself with his breathing, but he only shook harder. He lost his grip on his sister at the same time that he lost his balance and caught himself on his palms on the floor. Even after he landed, he didn't stop shaking.

    Balsa pushed the boy's sweaty hair back from his forehead carefully. She lifted his head gently and held him grounded in place until his breathing evened out and he stopped shaking. It took a long time.

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