Guardian of the God - God's Appearance - Part 1 Chapter 4 - Short Spear in the Moonlight

  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 4 -Short Spear in the Moonlight

     Balsa ate well and slept well. On the third night after she'd been injured, she felt well enough to practice with her spear. She got up and went to the inn's garden to train.

    Tanda thought her powers of physical recovery were remarkable for someone of her age. She was like a wild animal that could be killed by its environment at the first sign of weakness or sickness. In such an environment, recovery speed would determine whether the animal lived or died. When Tanda was injured or sick himself, he usually wanted some kind of sympathy or compassion as healed, but not Balsa. She couldn't permit herself to behave in such a way; she'd probably turn to stone before she asked for sympathy. In her times of greatest weakness, she took her heart and locked it somewhere far away. Jiguro had made her into something wild and independent that could survive anything alone.

    Chikisa was also recovering remarkably well, given his injuries and his general weakness from near-starvation. Tanda knew that children from impoverished families were usually hardier than children raised in the homes of rich merchants and lords, but Chikisa's rate of recovery rivaled Balsa's. Their minds seemed to be rushing their bodies along: Get well fast so you can move.

    Asra awoke the morning after Tanda and Chikisa had spoken. She'd been groggy and disoriented at first, but by noon she'd been able to help Chikisa sit up in bed and clean herself up after her long sleep. She ate and walked around a little, slowly making progress each day.

    Tanda spoke to the workers at the inn and asked them to tell Tanda if Asra or Chikisa's health worsened, but otherwise let the inn's staff take care of the children. He did feel somewhat guilty about this, so he continued to make and bring food for them every day. They ate his food eagerly. He watched over them until they finished, offering them his silent apology for all the things he couldn't do for them.

    He hoped Asra and Chikisa would continue to recover quickly, before he became more attached to them. He still wanted to part from them at the earliest opportunity, but no matter how terrifying they were, he couldn't bring himself to abandon two children that were barely strong enough to sit up in bed. Tanda recognized this as a sort of weakness in himself.

 

 

    After dinner, Asra and Chikisa each laid down on opposite sides of a brazier in their room. They drowsed for a while, half-asleep, until a strange noise awakened them. There was a high sound like a whip cutting through the air coming from the direction of the garden. Asra opened her eyes and looked at Chikisa.

    "What's that?"

    "I don't know. It sounds like an apprentice horse driver learning how to use a whip."

    "But I don't hear the sound of the whip recoiling," Asra said. "It's just cutting."

    Chikisa got up, holding his blankets around his shoulders as he moved. He lifted the window blinds and peeked into the garden. Asra stood beside him and looked out.

    The garden was lit only by the dim light of the moon, so at first all they could see was something small and sharp flashing as it cut through the air. Whatever it was left a bright afterimage as it moved at dizzying speed. It was the tip of Balsa's spear, reflecting the moonlight as she trained.

    Stunned at the speed and grace of such movements, neither Chikisa nor Asra said anything for a long while. They stood and stared at the point of dancing light as their eyes adjusted to the darkness. Eventually, they could make out the shadow of a person moving.

    "Ah! It's her!" Chikisa said.

    "Huh?" Asra asked.

    Chikisa seemed reluctant to speak, but after a moment he whispered, "She was in the hallway outside the door when those men were killed. She was hurt. Her name is Balsa."

    Asra frowned and said, "I remember. Why did you tell me not to summon the god?"

    Chikisa gave Asra a sullen look, but Asra's frown did not shift. She was clearly not in the mood for excuses or complaints, but answers.

    Chikisa relaxed his shoulders. "Let's put that aside for now. That woman, Balsa, was attacked by the god, but she wasn't killed. She probably moved fast enough to save herself."

    Asra shook her head. "It doesn't matter how fast someone moves. The god can always catch them. The god didn't kill her because she's not a bad person."

    Asra's expression was solemn like a priest's while performing sacred rites. Chikisa saw no trace of his kind and timid little sister in her anywhere. His heart hurt. He bit his lip. Asra worshiped the thing that lived inside her as a kind and just god. That god was called Talhamaya.

    Talhamaya was a god born of Afal, the Tal god of blessings, but Talhamaya bore no resemblance whatsoever to her benevolent parent. Her nature was essentially cruel. Chikisa and Asra's mother had served the Tal Kumada, who were called the Shadow Priests by the people of Rota. But their mother had gone against the Tal Kumada's teachings. She'd believed that Talhamaya's terrible power could be harnessed and used to restore the Tal people to their former glory.

    But Chikisa had witnessed the massacre at Shintadan prison. He knew that the Shadow Priests had been right all along.

    When his mother had been executed, the men and women surrounding her had laughed. Chikisa had hated them. He would have cut them all down himself if he could have. But the thing that had emerged from Asra had been like an unstoppable storm cutting down every tree in its path. It had killed everyone.

    Chikisa didn't believe that a god would do something like that. Whatever he'd seen had no capacity for pity or compassion. The god was nothing but a heartless and cruel expression of raw power.

    But Asra had never doubted the god, not even once. She believed Talhamaya was sacred and holy, like their mother had said. That belief was a shield that protected Asra's heart. Chikisa thought that if she ever did start to doubt the god, she'd go insane. He could do nothing but feel sorry for her as she imitated the lofty attitude and actions of the holy priests of the god. She was acting like their mother—but it was only an act.

 

 

    "I'm sure she's a good person. That's why the god didn't kill her," Asra repeated in an attempt to reassure herself. "She must be."

    "She's definitely good," Chikisa said. "When I was hurt, she hugged me and helped me calm down."

    Asra looked at Chikisa in disbelief. Why would a complete stranger hug Chikisa?

    "It's true," Chikisa said.

    Asra blinked and frowned a little. "Really?" She seemed to be looking for the lie in her brother's words. "But she's not hurt at all. Shouldn't she be resting like you?"

    Chikisa also thought that was a bit strange. He remembered blood gushing from her left side on the night of the attack; it had only been three days since then. How could she move like that?

    The two of them watched Balsa training in the garden. They hadn't noticed before, but she really did seem to be favoring her left side. Movements made with her right side were perfect and precise, but movements moved with her left side were obviously slower. They saw her supporting her spear with her elbow when it crossed to the left side. Her elbow kept her spear fixed to her side above the site of her injury and held it there as she performed her training.

    "It’ s true!" Asra said. Her voice was soft, but her tone was bright. Chikisa smiled. He hadn't heard her sound like that in a long time. He felt like they'd been been wandering alone in the cold dark for weeks. Even before they'd arrived at this inn, there had been so much darkness in front of Chikisa that he hadn't been able to see a path forward. When the god had killed all those people, all he'd been able to think about was staying alive.

    As Asra watched Balsa outside the window, Chikisa felt like he'd gotten his little sister back. This warm, brief moment shone like a tiny light in the darkness of Chikisa's heart. At the same time, he realized that this moment wouldn't last. Asra was never going to be her normal self again. He felt the sudden need to talk to her. He might never get another chance.

    "Hey, Asra. Can we talk a little?" he asked. Chikisa took Asra's cold hand in his own and squeezed. Asra squeezed back. "I've been thinking about what we should do now. We have no money. Someone bad might catch us again. I don't know what will happen to us then."

    "Don't worry about us, Chikisa! We'll be fine. The god is with us. Even if bad people find us again, the god will protect us for sure." Her eyes shone bright with conviction.

    Chikisa hesitated, then said the thing he knew he had to say, even though he really didn't want to. "Asra...I never want to see the god again." His voice caught in his hoarse, dry throat as he spoke. Hearing his pained voice, Asra turned toward him and frowned deeply. Chikisa said hurriedly, "You haven't seen it. Have you? You haven't seen what happens when the god comes."

    Asra blinked. It was true that when she called the god, she never saw what happened immediately after. But calling the god felt good. All her feelings of rage or fear melted away in an instant when she invited the god in; at the same time, she was filled with an incredible sense of peace and comfort. And when she came back to herself, the bad people were always gone.

    Chikisa's emotions could not be easily expressed in words. He let go of Asra's hand and started untying the bandage on his right hand. He undid the knots in a hurry, ripped away the clasp, then pulled the cloth from his wound so fast that blood and scabs came with it. He held out his injured hand to Asra. The thing inside Asra could probably see it, too. He could be killed later for doing this.

    Why should I care?  Chikisa thought.

    "Look at this, Asra. Your god did this. It hurt me. The second after you summoned it, it did this." Chikisa fought to keep his voice under control so it wouldn't crack. "The other people in that room had their throats ripped out. I saw their necks cut open. I saw them bleed to death."

    Asra stared at Chikisa's injured hand as if it wasn't real. There was a long gash along his palm running down between the space between his index finger and thumb. The wound had been sewn closed. The stitches holding it together were black with dried blood.

    Asra's lips trembled. As her sacred mask fell away, the face of the little sister Chikisa remembered peeked out from underneath. "Chikisa, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know. I thought those men hurt you."

    Tears welled up in Asra's eyes. Chikisa reached out without thinking and held her face in his hands. "I'm sure your god saved us, and I'm grateful for that. But try to understand why I don't want to see it anymore. So many people, bleeding to death like that..." He trailed off, but kept his hands on Asra's face. "The god has appeared twice. Both times, we were in danger. You were so scared, and you got so angry you lost your senses. Isn't that right?"

    Asra gave him a slight nod. Remembering those experiences made her uncomfortable and shy, like a fish concealing itself in the shallow waters of a marsh, darting away as soon as anyone tried to catch her. Unlike Chikisa, she remembered very little of what had happened at Shintadan. She did remember the heartbreaking pain she'd felt at her mother's execution. She knew now that it would never really go away. That moment would be stamped on her heart forever.

    She'd suffered so much at Shintadan that it felt like her body was being torn apart. She remembered looking at all the people around her in the prison yard and wanting them to disappear. She'd heard the sacred river flowing within herself, loud and getting louder until its sound echoed through her entire body. She'd known that if she followed the flow of the river, the god would grant her wish. She had no memories of that day after that moment.

    Had the god really slit the throats of all those people? She had trouble imagining it. Blood soaking into the ground from their wounds, eyes vacant and dead—when she thought about it, her head felt numb, tingly and cold.

    "It's just the two of us now," Chikisa said. "We have no money and no parents. Up until now, we've had a string of pretty terrible experiences. But—well, what do you intend to do now? Will you summon the god to kill people every time we're in trouble?" Chikisa's heart beat faster. "How many people will you kill to save us?"

    Asra's heart sank in her chest. She shook her head in fierce denial. "I won't do that! I won't kill people like that—the god only kills bad people!"

    "But even bystanders are injured! Just like me!"

    Asra shook her head again. Chikisa said to her plainly and directly: "Listen, Asra. We need to find a way to live, and live better. We can't keep surviving by harming others just because they bully us or look down on us. You can't keep calling the god. All it does is kill people. We need to grow up, find work, and make a life for ourselves just like everyone else."

    Asra nodded slowly. "But how will we do that?"

    "I don't know if it'll work out, but I've been thinking about it. It might be impossible, but..." Chikisa told Asra his plan. Blood slowly returned to her pale face as he spoke. She thought it was a really good plan. He looked a lot like their father as he laid everything out for her, determined and brave.

    "I think it will work," Asra said.

    They heard someone moving on the other side of the door. "Excuse me. I have some medicine to deliver. May I come in?" Toma asked. She was one of the workers at the inn that often brought them their food.

    Chikisa crossed the room and opened the door. Toma entered the room carrying a steaming tray of liquid medicine. "Please drink this. But be careful—it's still hot." She set down the tray and poured out two cups of hot liquid. "When you're done, please put the cups back on the tray, then place the tray in the hall. I hope you sleep well." Toma checked that there were enough coals left in the room's brazier, then left the room.

    Chikisa and Asra blew on their cups to cool down the medicine enough for them to drink it. Asra frowned slightly as she tasted it. Chikisa took only a single swallow of the medicine before putting his cup aside.

    "Chikisa, don't we have to drink it?" Asra asked.

    "I don't need it. I'll be all right after a little more sleep." Chikisa smiled, stood up, and dumped his remaining medicine out the window.

 

 

    As Toma was walking back to the kitchen, someone called out to her from behind. "Ah! Hello, Sufar. I just delivered the medicine you gave me to the children."

    "Thank you," Sufar said.

    "It was my pleasure. You and Tanda are wonderful people. You've taken such good care of those two, even though they're complete strangers to you. I've never seen anything like it. Those kids are really lucky."

    Sufar put his hand over his face in embarrassment. "Those children are both bright and well-behaved. I've been thinking about taking them on and giving them a place to stay, at least for a while. If they're feeling better, we might leave the inn together tomorrow. Is my room all paid for?"

    "Yes, yes, you've paid more than enough. I hope to see you here again soon, Sufar."

 

 

    Tanda read a scroll while sitting beneath a dim lamp at his desk in the room he shared with Balsa. He'd just started reading it that day. It was written in Rotan and listed medicinal ingredients and techniques that Rotan herbalists used in healing. The quality of the paper it was written on was poor, but the scroll's contents were fascinating. He loved coming to the Herb Market for many reasons, but one of them was that he was able to buy scrolls like this.

    He heard footsteps outside the door and lifted his head. He thought that maybe Balsa had returned, but whoever he was hearing wasn't Balsa; their gait was too different  and they made too much noise.

    "It's Sufar. May I come in?"

    Tanda opened the door and let Sufar in. Sufar glanced at the open scroll Tanda had been reading and smiled. "Ah, Shaltom's medicinal guide. I have a copy of it, myself."

    "It helps me to understand the properties of the medicinal plants in Rota in a way I never could before. It's so interesting! Rota and New Yogo are neighbors, but the fauna in northern Rota closely resembles that of Kanbal."

    Sufar nodded. "If you compare the Nayoro Peninsula with Rota, you'll notice that the climate is much wetter in New Yogo. Of course, southern Rota is just as wet in some places, but the north is far removed from any large water source . The flatlands are covered in deep forests and lush grasslands. It's very true that the north resembles Kanbal a good deal."

    Sufar shifted his gaze from the medicinal guide to Tanda. "You've certainly given your all in caring for those children."

    "Well, I am an herbalist."

    Sufar smiled. "Of course. I almost forgot that you save injured people's lives for a living."

    Tanda frowned a little. "What are you trying to imply, Sufar?"

    Sufar's smile vanished. "Have you ever heard of the Tal people?"

    "Yes. I've heard a little about them from Balsa. They live secretly in Rota's forests and avoid contact with other Rotan people. I've also heard that they're tall, lithe, and a good-looking people, but other Rotans go out of their way to avoid them."

    Sfal's lips twitched downward in a frown. "You're unusually fair-minded for a foreigner. I'm surprised that you knew all that and still decided to help those children. It's clear that you pity them. It's written all over your face."

    Tanda glared at Sufar. "Is there any reason that I shouldn't?"

    Sufar sighed. "I want you to understand that you're in an untenable situation. That's why I came tonight." Sufar leaned forward and said in a whisper, "You may have guessed this already, but those children are Tal people. On the outside, Tal people appear beautiful, but this is a trap for the unwary. There are hardly any mixed marriages between Tal people and the other people of Rota, as is evident in the current clear divide between our races. This divide is not only reflected in our appearances, but our capabilities. Like water flowing downstream, the Tal people have passed a strange power down through the generations."

    "A strange power? Is it like magic weaving?"

    "No. This power gives its wielder the ability to see another world, one that ordinary people can't see. Unlike magic weaving, wielders of this power are always able to see this world, without needing to perform any preparations or undergo any training. They can also touch and manipulate elements of that other world.

    "It is true that we magic weavers can do much the same thing with preparation and effort, but we also cannot see the other world for very long. The power I'm referring to comes to its wielder naturally, through genetic inheritance."

    "That's...interesting," Tanda said. "When Crown Prince Chagum hosted the egg of the water spirit, I think he could see Nayugu in a way similar to what you're describing. So it does seem that some people are born with that power."

    Sufar's frown deepened. "'Interesting' doesn't even begin to cover it," he snapped. "A child born with this power has the potential to cause a terrible disaster. There are times when the other world brings blessings to our own, but the other world also contains terrifying beings that we do not understand. If the ignorant disturb them without thinking, we have no way of knowing what could happen."

    Tanda knew where this conversation was going. Sufar continued in a tone of desperation: "The fact that they are children blinds others to the fact that they are tools—vessels for this terrible power I have spoken of. Do you understand, Tanda? If you could see their true faces, you'd never dream of helping them. An evil spirit has possessed that little girl."

    Tanda stared at Sufar. "You may be right, but the role of magic weavers is to drive away evil spirits, isn't it? Unless... Is this spirit so powerful that attempting to repel it would kill the child?"

    Sufar's eyes showed pain and sorrow plainly as he shook his head up and down once. "That is indeed the case. If we were dealing with an ordinary evil spirit, we magic weavers would do everything in our power to save the poor girl. But there is no way to save her. We have no choice—we must avert a worse disaster than has already occurred. The girl cannot be allowed to live."

    Tanda heard footsteps in the hall outside the room. Balsa had returned. Sufar heard her returning as well and stood up straight, regarding Tanda with a grave expression. "Tanda. I always want us to be friends. Please believe me when I say that this is something that must be done."

    Sufar opened the door to the hall and left, passing by Balsa on his way down the hall. Balsa entered the room. Her hair was damp from recent washing;  the good clean smell of the hot springs clung to her skin. She placed her spear in the corner of the room and asked Tanda, "What did Sufar want?"

    Tanda folded his arms, looked up at Balsa, and told her everything Sufar had said. Balsa dried her hair with a bit of dry cloth as she listened.

    "Sounds like he was warning you not to interfere," Balsa said. "He seems to think we don't know everything."

    "It seems that way."

    Balsa folded up the cloth she'd used to dry her hair and said, "I heard that Sufar is leaving tomorrow."

    "Huh? Where'd you hear that?"

    "I passed by Toma on my way back from the hot springs and talked to her. She thinks you and Sufar are friends, so she told me. She was impressed that you and Sufar are taking care of kids that you don't even know. Sufar said he was going to take the kids with him when he left." Balsa smiled a little.

    "What are you smiling for?" Tanda asked. "There's nothing to smile about. I think Sufar is planning to kill them. If he needs to kill the girl to prevent a greater disaster, I'm sure he won't hesitate to kill the boy to keep his actions secret. I thought he felt as sorry for them as we did, but apparently he thinks the best outcome for everyone involved is to kill them."

    "Do you think Sufar is right?" Balsa asked. "Will there be some kind of a disaster in Rota if Asra isn't killed?"

    Tanda's expression darkened. "I believe that he believes it. And there's probably at least a kernel of truth in what he said. He's not the kind of person that would kill children without a reason. I don't want to sit back and watch them die—but I also don't know for sure that I'm in the right and Sufar's not. There's too much I don't know." Tanda paused. "If I made a decision right now, I'd have no way to know if it was wrong or right."

    Balsa stared straight at Tanda. "All right. We can ignore what Sufar said for now, then. He probably knows about as much as you, which means he doesn't know enough to make the right decision, either."

    Tanda looked at Balsa with a little frown. "What are you saying we should do?"

    Balsa sighed. "No matter how much we find out, the essential choice is the same: to kill the kids, or not to kill the kids. That's it, right? Of course we'd never kill them with our own hands, but abandoning them to die would amount to the same thing."

    Tanda stayed silent for a while. He finally muttered, "If Sufar's fears are justified, that girl is going to kill a lot of people and cause some kind of terrible calamity. If that's what she does, we'll be saving a mass murderer by helping her. The people she might kill have just as much of a right to live as she does."

    "So you think she should be killed now?" Balsa asked with a sardonic smile.

    "You're asking me if it's better to kill the seed of a catastrophe before it sprouts? I hate thinking through philosophical ethics like that." He took a deep breath and looked at Balsa. She was still smiling, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. He felt controlled rage radiating off of her in waves.

    "You're thinking like a stray dog, killing a flea before it can bite you. An infected animal is often put down before its infection can spread to people. You're considering the good of the many over the individual; I understand that. But have you given any thought at all to how those kids might survive this?"

    "Stop it, Balsa."

    Balsa was clearly thinking about Chikisa and Asra's childhood experiences in the same context as her own. Tanda understood that line of reasoning, but this kind of decision couldn't be made emotionally. "I know that all of this goes right to your heart," Tanda said. "What does it mean to save a stranger? What does it mean to be saved by one?

    "But this isn't just a simple bodyguarding mission. If things go badly, it'll affect the rest of your life. And even if things go well, you might be throwing the rest of your life away."

    Balsa rubbed her chin with her left hand and nodded. "You're right. There are only so many resources that a person can give to someone else. The more they spend without holding something back for themselves, the emptier they become. You want me to take a step back from this so that I don't become empty."

    Balsa's tone mixed anguish and anger. A strange light shone from her eyes. Hair that she usually wore up hung free around her shoulders. The shadow of her damp hair moved over her forehead. "When your heart's set on something, you don't care how much it costs you."

    Balsa looked at her spear standing in the corner of the room. Oil from her hands had soaked into its shaft over the years, making it gleam in the low light. Jiguro had given it to her when she was ten years old. It had been at her side ever since.

    She stared at her spear for a while, then slowly returned her gaze to Tanda.

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