Guardian of the God - God's Appearance - Part 2 Chapter 1 - Hunting

  Guardian of the God

-

God's Appearance

(Book 5 of the Guardian of the Spirit Series)

 

Author: Uehashi Nahoko

Translator: Ainikki the Archivist

 

  Part 2 - Beasts Fleeing Hunting Dogs

Chapter 1 - Hunting

 

     The high, shrill note of a whistle echoed through the trees. Hunting dogs howled in response, adding their voices to the sound. In the summer the forest floor was darkened by the rich canopy of leaves overhead, but it was autumn now; many leaves had already fallen, allowing shafts of burnished autumn sunshine to reach the ground. In front of the forest, a wide grassland spread out to the horizon. Grass that had been lush and vibrant green in summer was now bleached and withered as the cool autumn breeze fluttered through it.

    Ten riders stood mounted on the grassland at the border of the forest, standing a little ways away from one another. They guided their horses using only their legs, in traditional Rotan style. Each carried a bow and a quiver of arrows strapped to their backs. They faced the forest and peered in, searching for signs of game.

    All of the riders were mounted on magnificent, well-tended horses, but there were two figures standing near the center of the others that particularly drew the eye. The King of Rota, Yosam, sat atop a horse so white it seemed to glimmer in the sunshine. Standing a little behind him was his brother Ihan astride a beautiful blue-black horse.

    King Yosam had turned forty-five that year. He was a man that rarely ever raised his voice in anger; he rarely spoke at all unless it was necessary. He was widely considered a just, fair and merciful ruler. His retainers and lords as well as Rota's common people revered him with genuine respect.

    His younger brother Ihan had recently turned thirty-six. He was taller than Yosam, with a body as lithe and flexible as a whip. His facial features were sharp and intense; he had high cheekbones framed by close-cropped black hair. The kindness in his eyes moderated the severity of his appearance somewhat.

    Yosam and Ihan's father, the previous king of Rota, had passed away when Yosam had been twenty years old. Having the burdens of kingship and governance placed on him so young had been challenging, but Ihan had helped him through it all. Though it wasn't common in royal families—even their own—Yosam and Ihan were not just allies and relatives, but also genuinely good friends.

    Yosam had three daughters, but no son. Because of this, Ihan was not just a prince of Rota, but Yosam's direct heir.

    The hunting whistle echoed through the trees again, and the baying of the dogs sounded closer. The hunters mounted on their steeds felt their excitement rising. A brown-yellow blur dashed out of the forest at top speed. Ihan was the first to see it.

    "Yosam—look there!"

    Yosam looked where Ihan indicated and saw the deer. He encouraged his horse into movement; by the time his horse broke into a gallop, his arrow was nocked and he was aiming directly at the deer. He maintained perfect control of his horse even as he fired his weapon.

    He missed. The deer leaped past a hunter waving a flag to guide the prey and stood still, revealing himself to be a proud adult stag with enormous antlers. The stag was nearly as large as Yosam's horse. His eyes darted from side to side, searching for a way to escape, but he was surrounded. The stag's breath turned to steam in the frigid air as he planted his legs firmly, faced Yosam's horse, and prepared to charge.

    Yosam watched the stag drop his antlers in challenge and faced him head-on, remaining entirely calm. He placed an arrow nimbly between his fingers, drew it back and prepared to fire once more.

    An instant later, his horse's right foot slid into a hole, causing the horse to stumble. The horse had stepped into the warren of some plains rabbits, and the hoof was now stuck in the hole. Yosam went flying from the saddle, somersaulted through the air and landed on the ground face-down. The stag tracked his body as he fell and did not back down from his charge.

    Arrows flew at the stag from all sides. They all hit their target, but the stag did not turn and flee. Ihan realized that arrows wouldn't be fast enough to turn the stag aside and threw his bow away. He freed his short spear from the straps on his saddle and threw the spear into the the stag's side, his arm describing a perfect arc as the spear left his grasp.

    Just before the hooves of the stag stomped on Yosam's head, there was a mighty thwack as Ihan's spear embedded itself in the stag's side. The stag fell over immediately, hitting the ground with great force. After kicking weakly for a few moments, the stag laid still on the ground.

    Ihan dismounted in haste and ran up to his brother. He helped Yosam stand as the other hunters let out a cheer. Yosam was pale and a bit stunned, but uninjured. He panted a little, still catching his breath, and grinned a bit sheepishly. "Thank you for helping me escape an untimely demise once again," he said to Ihan.

    "What are little brothers for?" Ihan asked. He laughed and wiped the mud from Yosam's shirt.

    "Is Yalras all right?" Yosam asked. Yalras was the name of his favorite horse. Another hunter led Yalras before Yosam. The poor beast hung his head as if he blamed himself for the accident that had caused Yosam to be thrown.

    Yosam smiled fondly at Yalras. "There, there. It wasn't your fault. It was the fault of the plains rabbits for building their warrens wherever they please without any regard for others." He patted Yalras' right foot, then checked it over to make sure nothing was broken. When he discovered the leg to be sound, he breathed an entirely audible sigh of relief.

    The other hunters and Yosam's servants and chief retainers rode up and offered the king their solicitous concern. Yosam granted the antlers of the stag to his brother as a gift, so the hunters removed the antlers from the stag and offered them up to Ihan while they were still dripping with blood. Ihan held the antlers over his head for everyone to see; the hunting party cheered again. Ihan passed the antlers to his attendants and ordered them to return home with the prize.

    The stag was too heavy to be carried as-is, so four attendants severed the beast's limbs. They laid a leather dropcloth down before cutting off the stag's legs so that blood wouldn't soak into the ground and attract more predators. When they opened the stag's stomach, steam rose into the cold air, and a vaguely unpleasant smell like bile rose from the carcass.

    King Yosam split the stag's liver with Ihan. Each of them took a bite of the liver, then passed their piece to the hunters surrounding them so that they could eat their share. Usually, a hunt wouldn't end until they'd brought down at least two or three deer, but everyone was still a little spooked by the King's fall from his horse. The hunting party decided to withdraw to Ihan's castle for the night.

    Yosam refused to ride Yalras until he could confirm for certain that his leg hadn’t been injured. He took Yalras' bridle and walked ahead of him. Ihan gave Yosam a fond look and boosted him up into the saddle of his own favorite horse, Karam. Then he took Yalras' reins and walked beside his brother.

    Servants and retainers hurriedly dismounted to offer their own horses to Yosam and Ihan, but Ihan commanded, "Stop. Remain mounted so that you can protect us should the need arise. The King and I are going to walk slowly for a little while."

    The servants and retainers bowed and followed Ihan's orders. They mounted up and spread out a bit to better protect Yosam and Ihan on every side. Ihan started walking with long strides. He looked up at Yosam and said, "I'll be so lonely when you go back to the capital. I know it's still warm in the south. Every year, when you leave after the autumn hunting season, I swear you take the rest of the warm days with you, and leave us nothing but cold, harsh winter."

    "Hm," Yosam said. "The wolf attacks last winter were among the worst we've had, weren't they?"

    "Yes," Ihan said, "and this year's not starting off well, either. I've already heard about wolf attacks from every clan head in the north. There have been a lot of injuries, and some casualties. This year our grain harvest was fair, but there was an epidemic of disease among our mahan sheep. Most of them have died. When you add the wolves on top of it all, this winter is starting to look like a dangerous one for our people. Without the sheep for milk and wool, some may freeze or starve to death," Ihan said tensely. "I think we should lower the taxes on the northern clans this year. We should probably increase them a bit in the south to make up for it, since they had a good harvest this year. And it would help the north a lot."

    Yosam's lips twitched upward in a somewhat nervous smile. "The southern lords won't like that. Are you planning to antagonize them again?"

    Ihan snorted through his nose. "I don't care about them right now. The northern clan heads support our family directly and are more involved in our affairs. The southern lords use their blood ties to us to leech our resources and live a life of luxury in the capital while the northern clan heads actually work to keep people fed. I value our northern clan heads more than the southern lords. They're the backbone of this country."

    He looked up at Yosam with a secretive sort of smile. "I've heard that the Crown Prince of Sangal's wife Zina is about to give birth. If it's a boy, there'll be a coronation ceremony in Sangal before very long. When I consider the expenses we may have to incur in the coming months, I can't help but think that we of the royal family will have to pass a somewhat harsh and frugal winter ourselves. We'll share in the suffering with the southern lords so that they won't be singled out."

    Yosam grinned broadly. "If that's the plan, I shall dedicate my all to hunting, starting tomorrow morning. As head of the family, it's my responsibility to make sure we don't starve over winter."

    Ihan smiled in response to Yosam's teasing tone. He almost never showed this light-hearted part of himself to anyone else—certainly not to his servants or retainers. Very few people knew that Yosam even had a light-hearted side to him.

    "I forbid it," Ihan said. "If you go out there alone, you'll be food for the wolves. The country couldn't survive such a devastating blow." Ihan became suddenly serious. "About what we were saying before... We should really start increasing the population of brown shahan sheep nationwide. They survived the plague; the mahan sheep did not. What do you think about sending out a formal proclamation to the clan heads?"

    In a lower voice, Ihan continued, "Most of the shahan sheep we have now belong to the southern lords. If we use their supply to increase their population elsewhere, even if the plague breaks out again next year, the harm it does will be greatly reduced. The climate is so much warmer and more humid in the south, which is closer to both the equator and the ocean. The north is forced to rely on goats, sheep, and cows raised on the grasslands, but the southern lords and those who serve them have more options. If the wealth gap between the north and the south continues to grow at its current rate, it won't be good for the country. Right now, I think we need to do do all we can to help the north."

    Yosam thought for a moment, then asked, "Do you remember the last time you said that to me?"

    Ihan frowned deeply, then nodded.

 

 

    Ihan had recommended increasing Rota's population of shahan sheep once before, to protect against the outbreak of the disease that mahan sheep were so susceptible to. Yosam had refused him then, believing that the time wasn't right. Besides, the people of Rota loved mahan sheep, which were white like the snow of the mountains. The brown shahan sheep were widely considered dirty and inferior. But wool was wool, no matter its color; clothing made from brown wool was just as good and warm as clothing made from white wool. The milk and mutton of shahan sheep usually tasted better than that of mahan sheep if the taste-testing was done blind, but this fact was rarely acknowledged. Shahan sheep had always been seen as inferior in some way. Such a popular conception was not easy to change.

    There was another factor that affected this problem and that helped account for Yosam's first refusal. When Ihan had first brought his proposal to increase the population of shahan sheep to Yosam, his reputation had recently been tainted by scandal.

    Ihan remembered what he'd said to Yosam then: "So they think I'm some kind of freak, huh? Let them. I don't care." That was more than ten years ago now.

    At that time, Ihan got lost in the woods and fell in love with a woman of the Tal people. He was on an inspection tour of Rota's border towns near a remote outpost when a blizzard hit and separated him from his servants and retainers. Ihan would have frozen to death if a Tal family hadn't found him and taken him in.

    The Tal family made a living as forest trappers. Ihan stayed with them in their simple hut until the blizzard passed over. Until that time, Ihan had never seen a Tal person up close. On the rare occasions when he'd seen them from a distance, they'd always avoided looking at him by pulling their hoods up over their heads to hide their faces. Consequently, Ihan had a somewhat negative perception of the Tal people before being taken in by them.

    When Ihan looked at the woman coaxing warmth into his frostbitten limbs and nursing him back to health for the first time, he was smitten by her beauty. Her face was like a pure white flower; her eyes were clear and transparent like pools of still water. She was filthy—of course she was; she was a poor trapper's daughter—but there was something dignified about her that caught and held Ihan's attention.

    Singers and tellers of fairy tales liked to talk about love at first sight, but Ihan didn't think such a thing really existed. He laughed at people who thought it did. He believed that people who fell in love did so over time as they got to know and respect one another for who they truly were. Anyone that fell in love in an instant, or even in the space of a day, was only experiencing idle infatuation that would vanish as soon as it had appeared.

    Ihan believed that; he really did. But when he fell in love with Torisha, he did so embarrassingly quickly. When she looked him in the eyes for the first time, his whole body felt like it was on fire. He thought about her whenever he woke to find her gone. His heart pounded with excitement whenever she returned. When this pattern repeated over the course of several days, Ihan knew himself to be—unfortunately—in love.

    Ihan also knew that his love for her would never be accepted by Rotan society. The gap in status between them was too far to bridge. Neither the royal family nor ordinary Rotans would ever accept such a match.

    The royal family stood upon the grand stage of Rota's politics and government, but the Tal people had sworn an ancient oath to never involve themselves with Rota's political affairs. The Tal people had lived separately from other Rotans in isolated tribes for hundreds of years. The Tal people and Rota's royal family were linked by a secret that necessitated this separation.

    Ihan wanted to discard the past in favor of a better future. He'd always believed that the most important moment in anyone's life was now, the immediate present. Now was the only time to make decisions that would affect the future.

    Smaller changes that occurred throughout history often resulted in much more significant change over time. Ihan believed the world capable of change—he even believed it capable of change on a grand scale. But he knew that large-scale changes would take time and that those changes would never happen without a lot of smaller intermediary changes building upon one another first. He considered it his role to open the way to more significant pathways of change. He didn't care at all about his reputation. He knew himself to be a good person, so it didn't matter to him if others thought ill of him.

    That's why he told his servants everything when he finally returned to them after the blizzard. And that wasn't all. He returned to visit Torisha several times even after going home to the palace. He turned a deaf ear to the servants and lords that advised him against such an attachment. And so, almost overnight, Ihan's reputation was tarnished almost beyond repair. The southern lords used his indiscretion to their advantage and blocked every reform proposal that he brought forward from then on.

    Ihan had no patience for slander, but the rumors became so bad that Yosam was compelled to reprimand him publicly, even though he hadn't wanted to. As severely as possible, Yosam told Ihan, "Even if it is just slander, it has done incalculable harm. People won't forget this—not in ten years, not in a generation." Seeing Yosam so serious surprised Ihan. He realized then that he couldn't laugh the situation off. Though it irked him, Ihan devoted more serious thought to his own reputation after that.

    After Ihan turned twenty, he started understanding matters that had been opaque to him before. He understood his brother's grave and serious mode as his way of expressing what he believed to be the plain, hard, and absolute truth. Ihan made a point of avoiding having Yosam talk to him so seriously by taking special care with his own conduct.

    Yosam's first refusal of his proposal to breed more shahan sheep came just after the scandal with Torisha had become widespread knowledge. Yosam spoke gravely to him then, too. The effect his words had on Ihan was profound: he realized that he would have to give up Torisha for the country's sake. There was no way for a prince of Rota to take a wife from the Tal people.

    But Ihan wasn't the sort of person to give up easily, so he asked if there was a way—or if a way could be made.

    Yosam was typically kind-hearted, but when Ihan asked that of him he actually yelled: "You know the reason the royal family cannot wed the Tal people! Do you plan to endanger the entire nation for the sake of your infatuation!?" It was the only time he'd ever shouted at Ihan about anything and the first time he'd ever rebuked him so severely. Ihan believed that such rage on Yosam's part went entirely against his essential nature.

    "Yes, I know," Ihan said. "I've heard the tale that some of the Tal people have the ability to invite a terrifying god to use them as vessels, and that this god grants powers of death and destruction that come from another world. It is to prevent such a calamity that the Tal people live isolated in their forests.

    "But I believe that the tale's primary purpose is to increase the division and hatred between our peoples, so that the Tal people will always be too despised and feared to ever take on a political role. And I'm aware that if I did marry a Tal woman and have a child, that child might inherit the power of the terrible Tal god." Ihan felt himself blushing as he spoke. "But not every Tal person is born with this power. The woman I love is a normal woman; she has no capacity to use magic at all."

    Yosam shook his head slowly. "It doesn't matter. You must not have anything more to do with that woman. Marriage between us and the Tal people is forbidden. We must act in the best interests of our own people, who would also oppose such a match."

    Ihan flushed bright red for a moment. "You despise her only because she is Tal. That's not a reason; it's prejudice. It's the role of the royal family to guide the nation as it changes its thinking over time. If we see disaster ahead of us, we change course to avoid it. I know this relationship will bring me trouble in the future, but I would like to use it steer the country in a better direction. And I'll never even know if that's possible unless I try. Please."

 

 

    Ihan's love ended suddenly, but not because he gave it up. When he went to visit Torisha after speaking with Yosam, she had vanished without a trace. Ihan went briefly mad and used every means at his disposal to search for her, but he couldn't find anyone who knew where she had gone. As Ihan's hope faded, Yosam said to him, "Try to consider the girl's feelings. If she became your wife, she'd have to live with us at the royal palace, hated and shunned while being cut off forever from her own family and tribe for breaking the covenant between our two peoples. Her life would have been like walking on a bed of nails, all the time. Do you understand that?"

    Yosam's words had pierced Ihan's heart. Over a decade had passed since then; he still remembered them. Ihan had married for the good of the nation and had a son and daughter now, but his first love still remained in his heart. When he slept, he still dreamed of her.

    Sadly, Ihan was no longer young enough to believe that love could make his dreams come true, but his love for Torisha had changed him completely. He no longer saw the Tal people as creepy and mysterious people that lived in the woods. When he looked at them now, he saw people that laughed and cried and lived their lives just as he did. He became aware of himself as a member of a family that tyrannized and was justly hated by a significant number of his country's people.

    When the people of Rota saw Tal people passing by their homes, they gathered their children inside and locked their doors. Tal people that came to market towns to sell pelts and leather received harsh and discriminatory treatment from the merchants there.

    There was a deep divide between the Tal tribes and the rest of Rota's people. Ihan had wanted to begin the work of bridging that divide by marrying Torisha, but fate had proven his desire futile and tragic. Still, Ihan had never given up on introducing reforms to improve the country for everyone, even if only little by little. He tried to chip at Rota's prejudice against the Tal people over time, but over the course of the past decade, little had changed. As he grew older himself, Ihan came to understand hatred and prejudice better—and how hard it was to change.

 

 

    Ihan looked up at Yosam in the saddle and asked, "Yosam, do you oppose increasing the population of shahan sheep?"

    Yosam considered for a long moment, then said, "No. I think it's a good idea. Now might be the best time to do it. I won't say that this order comes from you; I'll proclaim it myself, as my own plan."

    Ihan's face lit up. "Thank you! I don't know why I expected anything less. Even if there's another plague outbreak this winter, or if the wolf attacks worsen, I know you'll see us all through it safe and sound," Ihan said with the fervor of strong conviction.

    Yosam suddenly frowned.

    "Yosam?"

    "Safe and sound, huh?" Yosam asked. "I wonder how long I'll be able to keep the peace." He said this so quietly that Ihan barely heard it. "We must use every means possible to keep the peace and to prevent the inequality between the north and the south from getting worse. Increasing the population of shahan sheep is an act of major reform. The southern lords must realize that they're not the only ones that have a say in how this kingdom should be run."

    Ihan stared straight ahead, then looked up at his brother. "I know the southern lords detained you at court until some time ago," Ihan said. "What did they say to you?"

    Yosam grinned bitterly. "What they said last time, and the time before, and the time before. I'm getting tired of refusing them."

    "They came to you about Tsuram harbor again? The southern continent still won't give up after all our refusals?"

    About half a year ago, the Talsh empire had sent an ambassador to Rota. The Talsh had expanded over much of the southern continent and were always looking to conquer new territory. All of Rota's trade to and from the southern continent went through Sangal, but the Talsh had requested permission to make use of Tsuram harbor in the south of Rota for the purposes of direct trade with their empire. In exchange, they offered cheaper rates of exchange than Sangal currently offered for Rota's goods.

    Talsh was quite distant from Rota by sea. However, two years before, Talsh had conquered one of its neighbors, the island nation of Karal in the Sugal Sea. While the Talsh empire had seemed almost impossibly distant from Rota before this conquest, Talsh ships could travel significantly further north by ship thanks to their acquisition of Karal's archipelago.

    The lords and rulers of Rota did not fear that the Talsh empire would invade them simply because the Talsh had conquered Karal. Karal was a blip on the map compared to the nation of Sangal. Conquering a nation by sea was a costly enterprise in terms of both resources and troops. The Talsh would have to spend so much to conquer Rota that the idea wasn't worth considering.

    The Talsh empire's expansive trade network proved attractive to Rota's southern lords. One lord in particular, Aman, had been practically frothing at the mouth from eagerness from the very start of negotiations.

    "Opening one port will not give the Talsh enough of a foothold to invade." Aman said this to Yosam often. "Rather, it will grant us opportunities to create immeasurable wealth for our people. If we can bypass Sangal's taxes, we can acquire everything from the south more cheaply. I beg you to consider the progress and advancement of our nation as your first and most urgent priority, Your Majesty."

    But Yosam consistently opposed opening Tsuram harbor to the Talsh empire. Unlike New Yogo, Rota was unable to produce luxury goods like finely woven cloth and porcelain; unlike Kanbal, Rota had no gem mines. All that the southern continent ever wanted from Rota was metal, especially iron and steel. If the Talsh did engage in direct trade with Rota, they would gain access to the metals harvested from Rota's ore mines and Rota's metallurgical techniques, but Yosam considered these benefits dubious at best. He doubted Rota would benefit much from such a trade deal at all—metal was heavy, which made it both difficult and expensive to trade across distances.

    Wool and fur were lighter as far as trade commodities went, but the market for those was in the north. There was little profit to be made in shipping such goods to Sangal. The more Yosam considered the idea, less he understood Talsh's motives for accessing the port at Tsuram. He didn't think that the Talsh gaining free access to the harbor would benefit Rota at all, but he also didn't think the Talsh trade network would benefit much from such a proposal, either. He deduced that the Talsh empire was really after something else.

    If he thought of Tsuram simply as a place for Talsh ships to dock and resupply, that made a certain amount of sense. If they used Tsuram for that purpose, they could build up an infrastructure that more closely connected the northern and southern continents. Tsuram would become Talsh's foothold in Rota, no matter what Aman claimed. Opening the harbor safely to them would allow the Talsh to build up trust and encourage Rota to relax its vigilance. Yosam saw it all as a slippery slope or a line of erosion, like rain wearing grooves in stone. Once the Talsh formed a safe path between the northern and southern continents for themselves, they would be primed and ready to attack.

    Yosam was certain that the Talsh intended to attack Rota in this way eventually. Matters worsened when Yosam considered Rota's current trade agreements with Sangal. If he accepted a trade deal with the Talsh, it would jeopardize Rota's diplomatic relationship with one of its closest allies. Rota and Sangal had always been on good terms. Driving a wedge between them could only work to the Talsh empire's advantage.

    "I'll be glad to get away to Sangal for a time," Yosam said. "I'd like to strengthen our alliance with them as much as possible." He looked at Ihan. "While I'm gone, I'm counting on you to protect Rota and hold it together."

    Ihan nodded tightly. "The southern lords view the north as nothing but dead weight. Ensuring that the clan lords get along is the role of the royal family, and I won't shirk it. It'll be tough, but I know how to keep them united."

    Ihan and Yosam shared a similar sense of dread. While Yosam lived, it was doubtful that the southern lords would rebel, but if something happened to Yosam, it was unclear if the southern lords would follow Ihan's lead. Yosam had no doubt that Ihan could and would rule well. He was incredibly popular in the north, but the southern lords despised him. Yosam believed that when the time came for Ihan to inherit the crown, he wouldn’t be able to keep Rota whole.

    Ihan and Yosam walked together in silence for a while. Cold dew seeped into Ihan's shoes as he walked. Yosam spoke first. "There's another thing I want you to check on for me. Has there been any news from Shintadan since the massacre?"

    Ihan shook his head. "No. Sufar and the others are gathering intelligence, but they haven't learned anything definite yet."

    "Hm." Yosam listened to the horse's hooves swish through the leaves below him. "That woman who entered the forbidden forest was executed at Shintadan. Early reports describe the scene as—well, unbelievable. Give Sufar and the others your full cooperation and support."

    Ihan looked up at Yosam and grimaced. "I read those initial reports, too. They say that the cause of the massacre could have been Talhamaya, the terrifying god of the Tal people—but I doubt it. Sufar is one of the Kashal, one of our most skilled hunters. If he'd caught Talhamaya's scent, he would have told us that in no uncertain terms. The report confirmed that the executed woman didn't have the power to summon Talhamaya."

    Yosam nodded. "Sufar's report indicated that the executed woman was entirely ordinary. It's not at all clear what she was doing in the forbidden forest. She seemed to be a random woman that violated the prohibition for no reason."

    "The massacre had to be a wolf attack. That's what I think," Ihan said.

    Yosam smiled bitterly. "We still don't know what happened, but regardless of what did, that woman is already dead. Any potential danger to us seems to be past."

 

 

    While the King of Rota hunted, four forest trappers busied themselves with trussing up a live deer in the deep woods. It was only a few days after the Shintadan attack. Each trapper lifted a limb of the deer they'd caught out of a large trap, confirming that the deer was unhurt.

    The trappers were well acquainted with deer and their habits, so they had rubbed a numbing agent called chatsu into the salt cliffs near the river that the deer liked to lick so much. Chatsu was made from a rare grass, so they had to use it sparingly. The deer was for a special ceremony of the Tal Kumada, the Shadow Priests of the Tal people. Only the priests conducting the ceremony to the god Talhamaya were allowed to sacrifice the deer; the trappers had been ordered to deliver the animal to the altar without a scratch.

    The trappers were all Tal people. They usually passed their lives secluded in the woods, but a few times a year they entered Rotan trading posts and markets to sell furs and dried meat. The people of Rota were terrified of the woods, believing that wolves and monsters lurked behind every tree.

    The trappers carrying the deer traveled through the Shan forest, which stretched in a long narrow strip along the northern border of Rota. In the Rotan language, shan meant "fear." The Tal people considered the Shan forest sacred.

    The eastern edge of the forest was fairly close to Shintadan prison fortress. In its center was the Tal people's ancient capital city; the Tal people were forbidden to enter it under any circumstances. The western edge of the forest touched a deserted wasteland. At the very tip of the forest, to the south, lush grass grew all the way up to the treeline, surrounding an ancient temple to the goddess Afal.

    Day and night, Tal priests offered fruit and grains to Afal inside the temple. Most people didn't know about the painted gate at the back of the temple called the Akazu no Mon, the gate that never opened. It was not a real gate, but a painted picture with magical properties that had been drawn there to prevent the entry of Talhamaya, Afal's daughter, the terrifying god of the Tal people.

    There were three temples to Afal in Rota, all built in the Shan forest. All of them had gates that did not open painted on their rear walls, which served as seals to bind the god to her own world and forbid her appearance in this one. Other temples to Tal gods had also been built in the forest; these were tended and guarded by the Tal Kumada—the Shadow Priests.

    The trappers set the deer down gently on the bank of a river. The river was quite shallow here and ran over a bed of small smooth stones. On the other side of the river, ten figures in brown robes stood waiting for the trappers. Two old women and three old men standing at the front of the group were Shadow Priests, while the mixed group standing behind them were their apprentices. The faces of the priests were as grave and solemn as if they'd been etched in stone.

    The priests pointed to the trappers. They lifted the deer again and carried it into the center of the river. The Shadow Priests gathered water from the river in their hands and poured it over the deer to purify it. When this task was done, the priests gave the trappers a signal. The trappers lifted the deer once more and crossed the river.

    They followed the priests up a narrow path into a forest grove. Trees surrounded them on all sides. As they walked, the leaves rustled loudly above them. The monkeys that watched over the temple of Talhamaya came to greet them, surveying their approach from high above in the red-gold autumn trees.

    The Tal Kumada traveled uphill toward the temple to begin the ritual. The monkeys followed them, bringing their own offerings. They didn't make a single sound, but lined up behind the Shadow Priests and watched their progression. As the priests and trappers took the last remaining steps to the temple entrance, the nervousness on their pale faces was plain to see.

    The Shadow Priests had something heartbreaking to consider. They’d come to this place a short time before to pass judgment on a woman that had violated their ancient prohibition by entering the Tal capital city at the center of the Shan forest. That woman's name was Torisha. She’d been a young mother; her children, Chikisa and Asra, were only fourteen and twelve years old. The Tal Kumada had decided to punish her, but they'd still wanted to do something to prevent her execution for the sake of the children. However, that hadn't proved possible. Torisha had committed an unforgivable crime, so they had abandoned her to the Rotan judges that had condemned her to death.

    The memory of what had happened to Torisha weighed heavily on them. The priests hung their heads as they approached the entrance to the temple. After Torisha's execution, the Tal Kumada learned that Torisha's children had vanished from Shintadan prison fortress. The orphaned children hadn't known how to find their friends and allies. Their current whereabouts were unknown. The Tal Kumada didn't even know if the children were still alive.

     Torisha first came to these woods some sixteen years ago. No one knew where she'd come from. She didn't speak much at first. She lost her previous home and all her belongings in some kind of terrible accident. There were no relatives or friends for her to rely on, so the Tal Kumada gave her a small hut to live in and permission to live and work in the forest.

    Tal people in the same situation as Torisha were not particularly rare. There were times when the Tal people rioted against the Rotan people. When the violence ended and Rotan officials attempted to hunt down the Tal rebels, many of the rebels fled into the deep woods, where the Shadow Priests would conceal and protect them.

    Torisha gained a reputation as something of a recluse. She was certainly a woman of few words, but she was also known for speaking with intelligence and forthrightness. But the longer she spent among the Tal Kumada, the more she changed. At first, she listened quietly while the Shadow Priests prayed to the gods and explained their teachings, but one day, she openly rejected a priest's interpretation of the gods. Her rejection was so deeply felt that she never returned to any of the temples after that, nor did she permit her children to go to the temples by themselves. Separated and cut off from her people, Torisha committed a terrible crime—she disturbed the grave of a god. It was a tragic story.

    The Tal Kumada knew that the massacre that occurred after Torisha's execution was caused by Talhamaya. The priests feared Talhamaya's destructive powers greatly, but they didn’t understand how Torisha had come to possess them. Children born with the power to invite the god into themselves were called Chamau. Had she become one of the Chamau by sneaking into the forbidden forest? That didn't make any sense. Torisha had been an ordinary woman in every way. She hadn't even been able to see the other world that all magic weavers could see.

    The Tal Kumada were all able to see the world of the gods. They could also see the ordinary world superimposed over it, so they were always looking at both worlds at the same time. They doubted Torisha could have developed such a power, especially without their knowledge. The power that the Tal Kumada shared could be sensed. The sensation of this power could not easily be described in words, but it seemed to unite them all, heart to heart and mind to mind.

    None of them had felt any hint or spark of magical energy from Torisha. Many of them believed that Asra had inherited the power of the Chamau, but children needed time to develop their capabilities fully, so they couldn't be certain.

    Long ago, people that possessed the power to see the world of the gods had been the rulers of the Tal nation. Children born with these powers in modern times were called Ramau and sent to one of the temples to live their lives in service to the Tal gods. Harsh laws governed their lives; they were not permitted to marry or have children. At the age of fourteen, they became the apprentices and servants of the Tal Kumada and learned to chant the traditional prayers to the gods. They also began assisting the Tal Kumada with their rituals at that age. They studied meditation techniques and learned to control their power. Their instructors emphasized the importance of remaining calm and level-headed at all times. Those that lived to reach the age of forty became Tal Kumada priests.

    The life of a Tal Kumada priest was not exciting or glamorous, but there was honor and dignity in their role. They worked to maintain peace in Rota. That was their primary function.

    Every once in a while, when a child was discovered to be a Ramau, their parents would go mad and try to keep them from going to the temples. Perhaps Torisha discovered Asra's power somehow and that was what motivated her rash deed. Some of the priests considered such an explanation likely, but not all of them were convinced. They didn't think Torisha would do something as foolish as break into the forbidden forest to awaken the power of a terrifying god merely so that Asra would not be taken from her. She must have had another reason.

    The temple of Talhamaya was in the forbidden forest, in the ancient Tal capital. The priests that neared the temple now were servants of Afal. The purpose of their lives had been to protect the world against Talhamaya. As the temple came into view before them, they stood in place and shivered. None of them understood Torisha's motivation for going in there.

 

 

    The trappers following the deer walked silently behind the Shadow Priests as they made their way through the dark forest. They saw three large trees growing from the top of two enormous boulders. The boulders were five times as high as a man and separated by a gap large enough for a person to pass through. The other side of the gap was shrouded in total darkness. The roots of the trees twined around one another and the large stones.

    The tree roots and boulders were all covered in a thick layer of moss. Directly in front of the boulders was a wide clear space paved with flagstones. An altar rose out of the center of the space. This was the temple of Talhamaya. The gap between the boulders had been made to allow the sacred river that carried Talhamaya to flow into the human world.

    There was a grave in the center of the temple. Long ago, an unfortunate woman had become united with the god, and her body had been buried here. It was an utterly forbidden place; no one was allowed to visit the gravesite. But Torisha had. She had entered into that forbidden and sacred area with Asra, breaking the covenant that the Tal people had made so many generations ago.

    Sunlight reflected off the trees and poured over the boulders like water transformed into light. The Tal Kumada and their apprentices halted in front of the altar and gazed fearfully at the temple. The moss growing in the cleft between the boulders appeared to be blue. Thin shafts of light bounced off the rock walls, constantly moving and shifting like the undulation of waves.

    As the waves crested within the cavern, the priests clearly felt the presence of a large body of water somewhere nearby. This lake fed into the current of the river that flowed through the gap in the rocks from the other world. Some of the priests were even able to see the water's surface as water flowed into and out of it, to and from unknown sources and destinations. The wide, deep lake was faintly visible to them, flickering in and out of their awareness like a mirage. 

    It was late autumn; most of the moss covering the trees and boulders was brown and withered, but the blue moss growing between the two large boulders was vibrantly alive. The light reflected from the moss was a fresh, warm sea green. 

    The Tal Kumada stared in silent fascination at the temple. Half a year ago, the Tal Kumada had sensed that the sacred river of Talhamaya was flowing again for the first time in any of their lifetimes. They'd been so stunned that they hadn't known what to do for quite some time. According to ancient Tal legends, this magical river from Noyook, the other world, was formed from snow melting off the mountains and converging into a single strong stream of water. The goddess Afal, who had created everything, used this river to regulate Noyook's seasons and weather. When spring came in Noyook, the snow from the mountains melted to form this river; the river carried nourishment into the human world that was beneficial to all living things.

    For as long as anyone could remember, this cycle had repeated, with the sacred river of Noyook flowing into Rota at the beginning of Noyook's spring. Although the river couldn't be seen by ordinary means, its benefit was clearly and deeply felt. It watered Rota's trees and grasslands, granting Rota rich harvests of grain.

    Pikuya, the sacred blue moss growing in the gap between the two temple boulders, grew in abundance everywhere during Noyook's spring. Animals that ate it grew fat and increased their numbers. Wolves that ate it rarely attacked livestock even in the middle of Rota's winter.

    Half a year ago, spring had come again to Noyook. Spring in the world of the gods was long—it would last for a hundred years. Rota would enjoy the benefits of the sacred river for the next century. However, Talhamaya, the goddess of disaster, had ridden the sacred river's current into the human world with the arrival of Noyook's spring.

    One of the Tal Kumada covered his face and said, "Hasal Ma Talhamaya—the river from which Talhamaya flows—we revere you. Please soothe and calm Talhamaya in your waters, so that she will never flow again into this world."

    The Shadow Priests shuffled forward toward the altar, step by slow step. They stared down at the blood that had been left from many previous sacrifices. The monkeys that guarded the temple carried off the sacrifices, but did not bother with cleaning up the blood.

    The priests ordered the trappers to place the deer they carried onto the altar. "We offer up this sacrifice. Please use the blood of this creature to appease Talhamaya." The Tal Kumada chanted a prayer together.

    One of the priests opened his eyes wide and sucked in a harsh breath. "Look!"

    The other Tal Kumada frowned and faced the same direction as the frightened priest. Part of the blue moss growing between the rocks was stained red. When the priests looked closer, the current of the river as it flowed through the cleft sent out ripples of water tinged with red at the edges.

    The priests looked at each other in alarm. "It's a sign."

    "The Chamau lives."

    The Tal Kumada shook from head to toe. They were certain that the blood they saw in the cleft was not due to the sacrifice they'd just made.

    "Didn't the Chamau die at Shintadan? This is impossible."

    "When Torisha was executed, that moss was stained red as it is now. I thought she called upon Talhamaya's power there, for the first and last time—but the blood is still there."

    The aged Tal Kumada priests watched blood flow down the Hasal Ma Talhamaya river in horror. Behind them, their apprentices cast their eyes down. Many of them smiled at one another while their masters were too distracted to look at them. Unlike the terrified Tal Kumada priests, the apprentices interpreted this event as a sign of hope, and the light of expectation dawned in their eyes.

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