Traveler of the Void - Part 2 Chapter 2 - The Dreaded Spear

  Traveler of the Void

(Book 4 of the Guardian of the Spirit Series)

Author: Uehashi Nahoko

Translator: Ainikki the Archivist

 

Part 2 - The Curse

Chapter 2 - The Dreaded Spear

  

  At breakfast on the morning of the fourth day of the coronation celebration ceremonies, the guests of state were treated to a feast for the eyes. Priceless treasures were gathered in a huge hall. Guests ate and talked along the sides of this hall while the king of Sangal and Crown Prince Karnan explained each treasure's history and origin, as well as the history of the royal family.

    Though it was well before noon, it was cloyingly hot. There were few windows in the treasure hall. The servers that had brought in the food stood near it and started waving huge fans to circulate the air, but this did not help much.

    The Sangal royal family's treasures proved fascinating enough for the guests to tolerate the heat. Many of them had been gained through trade from faraway or ancient empires. Guests spoke in reverent tones as they gazed at the treasures. Radiant gemstones drew many eyes, though not so many as the enormous collection of spears and harpoons lined up along one wall. Some of the spears were lavishly decorated with jewels, while still others were unadorned. All of them were as sharp as thorns.

    "You may believe these spears are too warlike and crude to be considered priceless treasures," the king of Sangal said, "but these weapons tell the history of this nation, as well as of our family. It is likely that all of you already know this, but our royal ancestors were pirates."

     The king of Sangal smiled warmly. His smile was infectious: many of his guests smiled back at him. Chagum also grinned while glancing at Prince Tarsan, who sat in a chair near his father. But Tarsan did not smile. Something seemed to be troubling him; his eyebrows drew together in a frown.

    Chagum was concerned at seeing Tarsan so much changed from the previous night. Another thing that troubled him was the girl standing close to the middle of the hall, unmoving, with her eyes completely covered. Even though he couldn't see her full face or her eyes at all, he had the strongest feeling that she could see, somehow. He hadn't noticed that the previous night because he'd been so distracted by the scent of the water spirit of Nayugu, but he felt fairly certain she'd been able to see then as well. The more he thought about it, the more worried he became.

    Tarsan was in a foul mood. It was hot and the voices of his father and brother buzzed like irritating insects in his ear. He wished this dumb ceremony would end already so that he could go swimming. Why did his father insist on explaining everything so exhaustively?

    Please, please, please stop talking...

    He'd heard a low buzz like the droning of bees ever since he'd woken up that morning. Tarsan felt that he was rapidly approaching the limits of his tolerance for decorum. If he couldn't leave soon, he'd explode.

    One of the guests of state pointed to something at the far end of the treasure hall. "Have all these spears been used in war?" she asked. "What about that enormous one there?"

    The other guests turned their attention to the spear indicated and let out exclamations of awe. The spear was made of plain iron, unadorned, but it was as tall as most grown men and its shaft was as thick around as a child's arm.

    "Yes, yes, of course," the king of Sangal said, still smiling. "That spear belonged to our illustrious ancestor, Prince Sadal. It was nicknamed the 'Dreaded Spear,' as it was very much to be feared. One successful throw of the spear could pierce a warship's hull and sink it."

    Many of the guests nodded politely at this story. The king, as if sensing their doubt as to the spear's effectiveness, laughed and went on, "Do you believe it? Maybe it does seem impossible. No ordinary man can so much as lift this spear. Men that can hoist it to shoulder level and throw it any distance are even rarer. The only man here that could even make the attempt is..." He paused, looking around. "Prince Tarsan."

    Tarsan lifted his head.

    "Everyone," the king said, "behold how the men of Sangal wield their spears!"

    The guests spoke apprehensively among themselves. No matter how strong he was, Prince Tarsan was still only a boy of fourteen. It didn't seem like he'd truly be able to lift such a massively heavy spear.

    Are they making fun of me?  Tarsan thought. Do they think I can't do it?

    Tarsan left his seat. Without bowing, he faced the spear and started walking toward it. Chagum's face clouded over as he watched Tarsan move. Tarsan's expression was entirely flat and lifeless, but Chagum sensed an incredible anger burning within him. Saluna noticed him seething as well and wondered what had caused it as well as what could be done about it.

    But as Tarsan stalked down the hall, neither Chagum nor Saluna could identify anything precisely wrong with Tarsan. They were concerned at seeing his discomfort and unease, but neither of them could guess the cause.

    Tarsan reached out and gripped the two-handed spear casually, using only one hand at first. It was heavier than he'd anticipated: heavy enough to interfere with his balance. He nearly toppled over, but then he braced the spear with both hands and used his whole body to remain upright. 

    At that moment, scornful laughter echoed through the hall, but only Tarsan heard it. In truth, no one had laughed. Tarsan could hear his brother's laugh bouncing off the walls of his mind.

    Tarsan blushed bright red in embarrassment. All of his seething rage boiled over at once. His vision went white with the force of his anger.

    Tarsan lifted the Dreaded Spear and adjusted his grip, holding it firmly so that he could lift it to his shoulder. He turned around, summoned all his strength—and hurled the Dreaded Spear directly at his brother Karnan.

    The room dissolved into chaos as everyone struggled to make sense of what was happening. The heavy spear slashed through the air with a sound like roaring wind, its point finally tearing into Karnan's shoulder and embedding itself in the wall behind him.

    Karnan's blood splattered all over the king of Sangal. The remaining guests stared at the unconscious Karnan in horror as if they'd been frozen to the spot.

    The next moment, anxious murmurs filled the hall like the buzzing of a hive of agitated bees. Tarsan laid sprawled out on the floor, still and unmoving as if time had stopped. One hand clutched his injured shoulder.

    In the exact center of the room, the Eyes of the Nayugul Raita stood absolutely motionless.

    "How is Prince Karnan?" Chagum asked Saluna when she greeted him at lunch. She appeared calm, but he could sense what her composure must be costing her.

    "I'm so sorry this happened... It's kind of you to be so concerned. Thankfully, his life does not appear to be in danger, but no one can tell for sure yet." Saluna bit her lip.

    "I am sure the king has many excellent physicians," Chagum said, "but if you deem it appropriate, I know Shuga would like to help, if possible. Star Readers receive excellent medical training."

    Saluna looked over at Shuga, who was sitting next to Chagum. He did seem like a smart and capable young man, so Saluna bowed to Chagum and said, "Thank you. After we finish lunch, I'll lead you to—"

    Saluna's words were cut off by the sound of a shaguram flute. Everyone turned toward the sound and saw the king of Sangal standing in the entrance to the dining hall. Conversations ceased as all eyes fell on the king.

    The king of Sangal bowed deeply. "Honored guests. First, I must apologize to each and every one of you. Even though you've come all this way at our invitation, we have allowed this terrible situation to occur. I beg your forgiveness." The king's voice was usually redolent with echoes of laughter, but there was no joy in his tone now, only measured calm. "Fortunately, the Crown Prince's injuries do not seem to threaten his life, nor should he lose the use of his arm."

    Some of the guests expressed their relief aloud. The king bowed before the assembled guests once again. "I thank you so much for your kindness! I would like to give you all a full explanation, but it was never even considered possible that such a tragic event could occur during our coronation festivities."

    If the new king was not crowned—that is, if Karnan's state of health worsened—the king of Sangal would lose an entire generation of male heirs. Regardless of what happened with Karnan, Tarsan would be tried for attempted bratricide and possibly executed. The king was dancing on the knife edge of despair, though he showed none of his anguish on his face. He doled out apologies as if they were the most precious gifts he owned, but no number of apologies could help either one of his sons now.

    The king then told his guests that they were free to stay for as long as they chose, but that all remaining coronation ceremonies were currently canceled. It didn't make sense for foreign kings and dignitaries to linger too long in a foreign land when there was no diplomatic need to do so.

    However, many of the guests could think of at least one reason to stay. Until the situation with the royal family resolved itself, Sangal's place as a nation was unstable. They were better off staying until the situation was resolved rather than returning home and relying on unreliable or incomplete rumors of the end result later.

    The guests exchanged their opinions of the king's policy in hushed tones. It became the main topic of conversation over lunch.

    "Where is Prince Tarsan now?" Chagum asked Saluna in a whisper.

    "I can't say for sure, but they've probably moved him to the stone dungeons," Saluna whispered back.

    "I can't believe it," Chagum said, with maybe a little too much conviction. His voice was too loud for the hall. "I know Prince Tarsan has a temper," he said more quietly, "but to do something like that would have required some kind of premeditation. A hint. A plan. Anything. I didn't sense anything like that from him at all."

    Saluna looked at Chagum. Her cheeks were faintly tinged pink. Every line of her face expressed gratitude. "You believe in him, too," she said softly. "Thank you. So do I."

    She glanced around, trying to determine if anyone was listening to them. "He did try to work some violence toward you, Prince Chagum. I know it, and I know he is quick to anger, and he can be prompted to idiocy like a frustrated child at times, but never, not in a million years would he ever lift a spear against his brother." Saluna spoke rapidly, the words gushing forth as if some dam within her had burst.

    "And that isn't the only strange thing I noticed," Saluna said. "From the moment he entered that hall, I knew he was in a terrible mood."

    "I noticed that, too," Chagum said. "He was acting completely differently than he did last night. I thought there was something seriously wrong."

    Saluna's eyes shone. "Really? I may have dismissed my own feelings if I were the only one that noticed, but..." The hopeful light in her eyes flickered and went out. "But even if he had some kind of reason, that still doesn't change the fact that he attacked Karnan unprovoked."

    When she thought about the fate awaiting Tarsan now, Saluna burst into tears. She knew it was inappropriate to display such improper behavior before guests of state, but she also couldn't compose herself any longer.

    Chagum reached out his hand, but he stopped himself before he could touch her. He wanted to offer her comfort, but that, too, would be a breach of decorum before the assembled guests.

    Prince Karnan's medical treatment continued until well into the wee hours of the night. The Dreaded Spear had grazed the bone of his left shoulder and pierced deeply into his flesh. He remained unconscious, undoubtedly from shock and the terrible pain of the wound. However, the spear had not punctured any major arteries or blood vessels; this was likely the reason that Karnan's life had been spared.

    Shuga, at his own request and backed by Chagum's orders, accompanied Saluna to Prince Karnan's bedside, where he remained for the next several hours. He helped as much as he could with Prince Karnan’s treatment. Sangal's physicians were capable and knowledgeable; Shuga learned so much from them that the time passed in the blink of an eye. However, the physicians lacked a knowledge of many medicines that were common in New Yogo. He offered the physicians one of these medicines, a common painkiller. They were stunned at how quickly it worked to bring down inflammation and at how effective it seemed to be.

    In each of the four corners of the room, a priestess of the mother of the sea stood chanting prayers continuously as Shuga and the other physicians worked. When Prince Karnan's strength seemed to be fading like the ebbing of a tide, their prayers grew louder and more urgent, as if they were begging for his soul not to be pulled into the sea.

    At long last, Karnan's condition stabilized. By this time, it was well past midnight. Shuga offered his thanks and sincere admiration to the other physicians, then left the room to return to the chambers set aside for him and Chagum.

    A servant was leading Shuga down a corridor back to the palace’s guest quarters when he heard a strangled cry. The servant in front of him trembled in fear.

    "What's that?" Shuga asked in Sangalese.

    The servant looked up at him and frowned. "It is coming from the room where Prince Tarsan is being treated for his injuries."

    "Ah! I suppose that lifting and throwing a spear that heavy would injure his shoulder. It may be a good idea to give him something to help with the pain. No matter how grievous his crime, it seems a shame to let him suffer."

    Shuga had no interest in involving himself further in the Sangal royal family's problems, but he knew that Chagum was worried about Prince Tarsan. Still, that seemed to provide even more of a reason not to get involved. Chagum would gain nothing from a connection with a prince that had tried to kill his own brother.

    Shuga approached the entrance to the room where Tarsan's injuries were being treated. The door slammed open and a single soldier ran down the hall away from him. Shuga peered into the room through the open door and stopped in his tracks.

    Four soldiers squatted down on Tarsan's body, each one pinning a limb. Their attempts at restraining him were not very successful; Tarsan thrashed like a madman beneath them, dislodging one and then another as they struggled to hold him down. The soldier Shuga had seen in the hall had probably run to get help.

    Tarsan looked like a demon in a rage. His right shoulder was bandaged, but Tarsan showed no sign of favoring it. He did not appear to be in any pain at all. If he managed to shake any one of the soldiers completely off, it was likely that the others would not be able to maintain their hold on him.

     If Shuga chose to leave now, he didn't know what he'd do next. Call for help himself?

    But of course Shuga couldn't leave now. He also couldn't just stand by and watch all this happen. He had learned a bit of magic weaving from Torogai that would render anyone that had been magically induced to violence unconscious for a time. He decided to try it, summoning his concentration and gathering energy in his right hand as he spoke the words of the spell in a voice not much louder than a whisper. He approached the soldiers, assuming a low stance as if he meant to help them pin Tarsan, then set his right hand casually on Tarsan's forehead. He tried to make the movement look accidental, coincidental, like he was pausing there before holding down Tarsan's shoulders.

    The instant Shuga touched him, Tarsan collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Searing pain throbbed in Shuga's right hand. He jumped back from Tarsan reflexively, his hand hurting so much that his vision went white for a few seconds. As he withdrew, he smelled something burning—a terrible something that almost made him gag.

    Shuga summoned the presence of mind to complete his spell in order to protect his mind and soul from the source of that pain and the awful odor that came with it.

    It smells like dolga root when it's been burned.

     Shuga looked at Tarsan with an expression of horror. Dolga root was only ever used for one thing. Torogai had told him that dolga root's only utility was in manipulating people's souls.

    There were some magic weavers in the world with black hearts that would curse or even kill people for money. The curse that required dolga root was only used by magic weavers such as these. People afflicted by the curse would become the magic weaver's puppet, compelled to do whatever the magic weaver desired of them while losing all sense of themselves. If the curse remained active too long, the victim would go mad and attack everything around them like a wild beast.

    Prince Tarsan had undoubtedly been cursed by someone. Shuga felt goosebumps rise along the line of his spine. Up until yesterday, Prince Tarsan had seemed completely normal. When and how had he been cursed?

    The soldiers in the room wiped the sweat from their brows and looked down at Prince Tarsan. Their expressions conveyed their confusion at what had just occurred more eloquently than any words. Shuga offered them a hopeless shrug, as if he didn't understand anything, either.

     "He must have exhausted himself and passed out. Let's get him into bed," Shuga said in Sangalese. The soldier that had run for help would probably return soon, with more soldiers. Until they returned, Shuga could still act, but he was unsure of what he should do. Even if Prince Tarsan had been cursed, it was best for him to stay out of any affairs or plots affecting Sangal's royal family. He now wished that he'd retreated when he'd first seen Tarsan and the soldiers.

    However, he was intrigued by the idea that someone had cast a curse on Tarsan that required dolga root. He remembered something Torogai had told him when she'd first taught him about such curses: "This spell was not dreamed up by Yakoo magic weavers. It came from you Yogo people, when you crossed the sea and came here. It originated on Nayoro peninsula to the far south and spread from there. That's what I've heard."

    Shuga had laughed. "Impossible! The Yogo people don't know how to curse anyone. The only magic the Yogo people brought with them to this country is Tendo, which I've studied extensively. Tendo teaches no curses. Perhaps you are mistaken, Master Torogai."

    Torogai had fixed him with a serious expression. "No. Your people may have forgotten it, since you came here so long ago and from so far away—but when you came across the sea, you brought your magic weavers with you. Their magic and Yakoo magic developed together after that, each taking bits from the other, but Yogo magic weaving has faded into the background, these days."

    Based on what he'd seen with Tarsan, it seemed to Shuga that Sangal magic weavers might also know how to cast a curse using dolga root. If this specific curse had originally come from Yogo, who on earth could have cast it? They were in the royal palace; there were watchful eyes and potential witnesses everywhere due to the coronation ceremonies. Who could have managed it?

    As Shuga approached Tarsan's bed, he had a terrible premonition, as if a poisonous snake was about to slither out from beneath it. It was clear that whatever this magic weaver's plot was, the plot's target was the Sangal royal family. But knowing that didn't make Shuga worry any less. If there was someone in the palace that could manipulate anyone to their will at any time, then no one was safe. It was possible that Tarsan could still be manipulated by this magic weaver.

    He had to get to the bottom of this. But if the Sangal royal family found out about his involvement with Tarsan here, it could lead to some serious misunderstandings.

    Shuga crossed the remaining distance to Tarsan's bedside and pretended to check his condition. The magic weaver that had cursed Tarsan would have left traces of their own tampering in his body. Focusing on what Torogai had taught him, Shuga searched Tarsan for the root cause of the curse.

    This curse caused the victim to obey the caster. How were they connected? He had to find the connection before the soldiers in the room grew suspicious. Shuga moved his hands from Tarsan's sweaty forehead to his shoulders and chest rapidly. As his hands passed over Tarsan's stomach, the smell of dolga root became overpowering.

    Shuga's eyes snapped wide open. The cause of the curse was contained inside a ring wrapped precariously around the first knuckle of Tarsan's little finger. It was so small that it was difficult to see at first glance.

    That's it. That's the connection.

    Shuga heard the sounds of many footsteps approaching behind him and turned around. The soldier he'd seen in the hall before was some twenty feet away, leading several others.

     In the brief amount of time he had left before they entered the room, Shuga whispered a spell and slipped the ring off of Tarsan's finger. When he touched the ring, he felt someone's eyes on him and blinked out an afterimage of someone staring at him in the dark. Before he could identify who was watching him, their presence disappeared entirely. All the magical energy suffused within the ring dissipated as well.

    The person that cast this curse was watching me this whole time.

    He felt like the magic weaver’s eyes were still on him. His shoulders shook. That magic weaver was capable of cursing others and leading them to cruel and painful deaths—and they had seen absolutely everything. They knew who he was.

    Shuga felt himself balk at his own inadequacy. He had learned the basics of magic weaving from Torogai, but he felt like a chick just hatched from a mother hen. There was so much more for him to learn. Whoever had cast the curse on Prince Tarsan was on another level than him entirely. Shuga did not believe that he was strong enough to oppose them.

    The door to Chagum's side chamber opened with a muffled sound. Chagum opened his eyes. It was still some time before dawn; the room was pitch black. When he heard Shuga's footsteps in the next room, he crawled out from under his blanket and sat up.

    "I'm sorry," Shuga said from the doorway. "Did I wake you?"

    "It's fine," Chagum said. "I wasn't sleeping well, anyway. Could you light one of the lamps for me?"

    Shuga lit one of the salu shell lamps in the room. Chagum watched his face appear above him in the dark, illumined in a dim corona of candlelight. Shuga appeared as calm as ever, but Chagum could tell that he was doing his best to conceal his exhaustion.

    "Prince Karnan's condition is stable," Shuga said. "As long as the situation doesn't take a drastic turn for the worse, I do not believe that his life is in danger."

    "Really? Thanks for telling me, Shuga. It must have been awful to see. I'd like to hear a full report in the morning, but right now I think you should get some sleep."

    "Thank you, Your Majesty." Shuga bowed, but did not leave the room.

    Chagum identified genuine worry in Shuga's exhausted eyes. He frowned. "Did something happen, Shuga?"

    Shuga stared at Chagum for a few moments, then blinked. "Your Majesty. Prince Tarsan was cursed."

    "What? Cursed?"

    Shuga arranged his thoughts and told Chagum what he knew about Tarsan's curse, including what he knew of its root cause and the magic weaver that had cast it. Chagum's eyes remained fixed on Shuga as he spoke.

    When Chagum finished listening, he got out of bed and stood up. When he began removing his own sleeping clothes without calling any attendants, Shuga's jaw slackened in shock.

    "Your Majesty, what on earth are you doing?"

    "I'm doing what I have to do. I understand worrying about curses. Of course I do. And I know you always consider my safety first, and I'm grateful for that." Chagum looked at Shuga with shining eyes. "But both of Sangal's princes have been targeted. I can't keep quiet about this."

    "But...dolga root is—"

    "I've already considered that," Chagum interrupted irritably. "We don't know if only Yogo magic weavers use dolga root, or if Sangal magic weavers do, too. That makes it harder for us to figure out who's behind this. But I don't want to sit here thinking about it—I want to do something."

    "You're planning to tell the king of Sangal about all this?"

    "Yes. I know you're against it. But there's a chance that the magic weaver is from Yogo. That might help narrow the suspects down. Even if it doesn't, forewarned is forearmed. The most important thing now is to find out the truth. Right? How did Tarsan get cursed? If we don't find out, now, we might not uncover the purpose or the scope of the plot until it's too late. We are being tracked by a venomous snake in the dead of night. Who knows who it will bite next?"

    Chagum spoke rapidly without pausing for breath. Shuga put up a hand to restrain the unrestricted flow of words. "Your Majesty. I understand. We are indeed being tracked in the dead of night. We do not know who the magic weaver's next victim will be. Everything about this situation is shrouded in darkness.

    "But we also have no evidence to present to anyone that might doubt us. I believe this ring originally contained the curse upon Tarsan, but now..." Shuga trailed off as he showed Chagum the ring he'd taken from Tarsan's hand. "It's just an ordinary ring. All anyone can say for sure right now is that a lot of people saw Prince Tarsan throw a spear at Crown Prince Karnan with deliberate intent to injure or even kill him. There is no evidence to suggest that this is not the case."

    Shuga looked at Chagum and said quietly, "The current situation of the Sangal royal family is untenable. Something must change. Something will change, undoubtedly for the worse. We may be better off thinking along the same lines as the magic weaver to discover the truth—the only ones that would benefit from a prince killing another prince would be traitors of some kind. If we do uncover a traitorous plot, it may be possible to exonerate Prince Tarsan.

    "However," Shuga said, "even if you tell the king of Sangal about the curse, he may not be motivated to seek out the truth."

    Chagum frowned. "Why?"

    "Consider our own nation. The royal family is always expected to be dignified and free of any corruption, illness, or any hint of scandal. The royal family of Sangal is much the same. If you did tell the king of Sangal about Tarsan's curse, at best you would be telling him to search for a criminal without giving him any clues as to who they are or where they might be. At worst, the king may consider your knowledge suspicious. The king is desperate. We may be seen as a convenient answer to his prayers and be sacrificed as traitors in order to protect his own reputation."

    Chagum's face scrunched up as if he'd just smelled something incredibly unpleasant. He turned away from Shuga and faced the flame that was lit inside the salu seashell lamp. Slowly, very slowly, he returned his gaze to Shuga.

    "I understand," Chagum said. "I won't tell the king anything. For now."

    Shuga's entire body relaxed in relief, but a moment later he straightened up again. Chagum came closer to him until they were nearly close enough to touch, then fixed Shuga with a flensing stare. "Shuga. I want you to promise me one thing. If you find out anything more about this plot—anything at all—I want you to promise you'll tell me. Even if you think, or know, that it would put me in danger, don't conceal anything about it from me. Even if you think I'd be killed for knowing." The light in Chagum's eyes was like the white reflection along the sharp edge of a short sword. "Promise me."

    Rulers and politicians could use even sympathy and compassion as weapons. Shuga considered that only natural. Shuga understood that Chagum wanted him to set aside his exalted image in order to protect him—Chagum, the person. Not his reputation. More than that, this was a request to protect Chagum even if doing so irreparably damaged his reputation by tainting him with scandal.

    "I promise, Your Majesty," Shuga said. He hoped he wouldn't regret it.

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