Guardian of the God - Return from the Hard Journey - Epilogue - Field of Sarayu Flowers

  Guardian of the God

-

Return from the Hard Journey

(Book 6 of the Guardian of the Spirit Series)

Author: Uehashi Nahoko

Translator: Ainikki the Archivist

 

  Epilogue - Field of Sarayu Flowers

   Balsa slept for a long time. Sometimes she heard voices or saw dim light beneath her eyelids, but she was too exhausted to open her eyes. She couldn’t be sure that anything she saw or heard wasn’t a dream.

    She finally awoke when she heard the voice of an unfamiliar man standing over her. Her eyes snapped open. She tried to sit up, but the whole room was spinning. Balsa closed her eyes again and focused on her breathing.

    “I think she’s awake,” a man said.

    Balsa opened her eyes again, more slowly this time, and saw two men that she didn’t know.

    “Can you hear me?” the man standing closest to her asked. “You’re doing a lot better. We’re healers, the two of us; we’ve been treating you. I’m glad to see you’re awake, but you should still rest.”

    “The...others?” Balsa asked. Her tongue and throat were so dry that it was difficult to speak.

    “The other three people who were brought in with you are still alive,” the healer said. “Go back to sleep.”

    Balsa felt the tension drain out of her as she processed what the healer had said. She was asleep again the moment she closed her eyes.

 

***

 

    When Balsa woke up again, she heard someone whispering next to her bed. The room around her was dim; all she could really make out was the indistinct figure of Tanda laid out in the bed next to hers. A fire was lit in the center of the room; without it, she wouldn’t be able to see anything at all.

    Balsa squinted and just made out the shadow of a man on the other side of the room. He was sitting in a low, Rotan-style chair with his back to her. When he shifted a little in his seat, Balsa caught a glimpse of Asra’s pale white face. She was in the bed in front of the man.

    The man reached out and touched Asra’s hair with jerky, awkward movements. “Why?” he whispered. “Why didn’t you kill us? I was sure that you hated us--hated  me for making your mother suffer so much...” 

    Balsa frowned as she guessed who the man was: Prince Ihan. Who else would ask questions like that? It wasn’t clear if the questions he was asking were more for Asra or himself.

    Balsa closed her eyes and listened.

    “I loved your mother more than anything, but I gave her up for the safety and stability of the kingdom. Your mother must have understood what a marriage between us would cost. That’s why she ran away.” Ihan let out a long breath. “I expected you to judge me harshly. If only I’d ignored everyone’s objections and married her anyway...but, no. If I’d done that, you and your brother would never have been born. Any children we might have had would have been killed at birth to prevent them from entering the line of succession. I probably wouldn’t be able to stop that from happening, no matter how hard I tried.”

    Ihan sank into silence. There was no sound in the tent except the wind. Ihan looked down at the bandages covering Asra’s neck and chest. “Is that where the ring of sacred mistletoe came off? I can only imagine how much that must have hurt. You were willing to give up your own life to seal the god away.”

    Balsa sucked in a breath and shifted slightly on her bed. Ihan turned around and looked at her. “Are you awake?”

    “How is Asra?” Balsa whispered hoarsely.

    Ihan frowned. “She’s alive. But Sufar said that he can’t feel her soul inside her anymore.” His voice shook. “She’s too young to have been forced into such a choice. It’s not fair.”

    Balsa closed her eyes again and fell once more into the darkness.

 

***

 

    Balsa, Tanda and Chikisa gradually improved over the next few days. The tent where they were being treated was just outside Rota’s Ritual Hall. The worst of the cold northern winter was past; it would soon be spring.

    Sufar came by to check on Balsa and Tanda sometimes and give them news. King Yosam returned safely from Sangal and heard about the attempted insurrection of the southern clan lords from Prince Ihan. Ianu’s ultimate punishment likely wouldn’t be decided for months.

    Sufar’s wrinkles were obviously deeper and more pronounced than when Balsa had first met him. He always appeared exhausted during his visits. When Sufar finally took his leave to return to his home village among the Kashal, Tanda said, “I’m sure what happened with Shihana had a profound effect on him. I hope he finds her soon.”

    After causing such a commotion on the day of the founding ceremony, Shihana and her closest allies vanished without a trace. Other Kashal were tracking them, but no one knew where they’d gone yet.

    “I know he can’t just let Shihana be,” Tanda said. “Many of the Kashal see him as their leader. Shihana rebelled against the royal family and incited the Tal people, so I’m sure her punishment won’t be a light one. I wonder if Sufar will ever recover. Killing Shihana would be like ripping the scab from a wound--it won’t make any of Rota’s problems go away; it’ll just bring them closer to the surface.”

    Tanda had traveled with Sufar for a long time, hiding and discovering Rota’s secrets. He couldn’t see a path forward where Rota could remain at peace. The problems were too fundamental and too difficult to solve easily.

    “The southern clan lords and their hostility aren’t going anywhere. Neither is Shihana. I’m sure she’ll find a way to elude Sufar just long enough to rescue Prince Ihan from some danger or crisis and stage a triumphant return. What do you think, Balsa?”

    Balsa secured her spear to the fastenings on her leather belt. She didn’t look up as she said, “You’re probably right.”

A little while later, Balsa finished securing her spear and looked over at Chikisa. He was standing next to Asra’s bed.

    “Chikisa,” Balsa said, “do you have a second?”

    Chikisa lifted his head and turned toward Balsa. Balsa held out a large leather belt full of pouches to him.

    “Is this for me?”

    “Yep. When we finally get going, it’ll be a long trip, so I’ll be counting on you to gather lots to help feed us all.”

    Chikisa nodded, but he was frowning slightly.

    “I also got some traveling clothes for you,” she said, placing a bundle of folded clothes on her bed.

    Chikisa fastened the slightly complicated belt around his waist. When he was done, Balsa threaded a short sword in a scabbard through one of the larger loops on the belt. The belt loop held the sword in place.

    “Is it heavy?” Balsa asked. She sat down in a chair and looked up at Chikisa.

    He shook his head.

    “I don’t know the customs of the Tal people, but among my own people, carrying a sword at your hip like that means that you’re an adult.”

    Chikisa’s smile radiated joy. His fingers passed reverently over the leather scabbard of the sword. “Thank you, Balsa,” he said. “It’s...”

    Chikisa pulled the sword from its scabbard and watched light dance along the blade.

    “In Kanbal, it’s customary for the father to say a few words when their child reaches adulthood,” Balsa said quietly. “The weight of the blade is the weight of a person’s life. This sword could save your life. It could also cause your death. You are entrusting your life to this sword whenever you draw it.”

    Chikisa’s smile collapsed. There was uncertainty in his eyes. “I don’t think I’m ready to be an adult yet,” he said. “Maybe I should return this...”

    Balsa smiled at him and shook her head. “Prince Ihan offered to let you stay here with him, but you refused. I can tell based on how you’ve been acting that you don’t intend to return to the Tal people. You’re about the right age to start carrying a sword.”

    When Chikisa remembered his audience with Prince Ihan, his knees trembled slightly. “I wish he’d let me return the money he gave us...”

    “Don’t feel bad about accepting it,” Tanda said. “If you never use it, you can return it someday. But you might need it, and then you’d wish you’d kept it, right?”

    Chikisa thought about Prince Ihan’s stern expression as he looked down at the sword Balsa had given him. He dimly remembered Prince Ihan giving the money to him and saying, “Be well.” He must have said more, but Chikisa hadn’t listened. All he remembered clearly now was the outline of Prince Ihan’s back as he’d walked away.

 

***

 

    Spring came early that year. Sada Talhamaya was no more, but the sacred river still flowed from Noyuk into Rota. Its warmth melted the snow and encouraged crops and flowers to grow.

    Asra didn’t wake up. She could swallow liquids like water and fruit juice when coaxed, but she couldn’t open her mouth or her eyes on her own. When Tanda opened her eyes to check her pupils, Balsa saw nothing but darkness in them.

    “It’s because her soul is gone,” Tanda said. He examined Asra just as Sufar had and agreed with his assessment.

    But then, some days later, Tanda examined Asra again. “Hm--I can see why Sufar thought her soul was gone, but it’s...not. It’s just...how do I explain this? It’s really hard to reach. I can’t touch it. It’s like she’s trying to forget herself so that she can disappear.”

    Balsa often carried Asra outside and sat with her in fields full of blooming spring flowers. The field nearest their tent was currently lush with cheerful red sarayu blossoms. Some days, Balsa sat with Asra in that field from sunrise to sunset.

    One day, Chikisa joined them in the field. He sat down next to Balsa and played with Asra’s hair. “She’s going to stay like this--isn’t she?”

    Chikisa looked across the field where sheep were grazing on the fresh spring grass. “It’s just like what happened at Shintadan. When she collapsed that time, I was afraid she’d never wake up. I wondered sometimes if it would have been better if she’d stayed asleep rather than remembering all the people she killed.”

    Chikisa brought his knees to his chest and rested his head on them. “Balsa,” he said softly, “This has gone on long enough. You should...you should let me kill her. I don’t want her to suffer anymore.”

    Balsa hugged Asra tighter and leaned back. The spring’s first lambs had recently been born; she could see them jumping and playing together on the other side of the field. They seemed so happy to be alive. When they jumped, they used their entire bodies.

    “I never would have helped you two if I intended to let either of you die,” Balsa said. She ruffled Chikisa’s hair. “You should be proud of your sister.”

    “Proud?” Chikisa sounded confused.

    “Asra did something that I thought was impossible: she stood up to Talhamaya. And she won.”

    Chikisa blinked.

    “Asra was always shy and afraid of everything. Talhamaya made her powerful. She could have used that power to kill a lot of people, if she wanted--it would have been easy. But she didn’t do that. She sealed Talhamaya inside herself so that the god can’t hurt anyone else.”

She paused. “I...wouldn’t be able to do that. If I were in Asra’s place, I wouldn’t have been capable of that.” A small smile tugged at her lips.

“If we find out that she’ll definitely die before she comes back to us, I’ll do it, Chikisa. That task shouldn’t be placed on you.” Balsa’s shoulders collapsed inward. “But I don’t think we’re the ones who should decide whether or not Asra lives or dies. That’s her decision.”

“But if her soul is gone, how can she decide?”

“Her soul isn’t gone,” Balsa said. “Tanda told me, and he doesn’t lie. Her soul is still there, it’s just...lost. You probably understand a little of what she’s going through right now. You were unconscious for a long time after you fell, remember?”

Balsa kept smiling and looked down at the lambs. “Asra,” she whispered, “it’s time to wake up. I know you don’t want to. I know you’re in pain, but...” Balsa trailed off.

“It might take a while, deciding whether you really want to live or not,” Balsa said. A soft breeze fluttered through the flowers in the field. “But Asra, look--these are sarayu flowers.”

A pinprick of clear spring light appeared in front of Asra’s eyes in the far distance. She felt the wind on her face.

The light, sweet smell of flowers wafted into Asra’s darkness.

 

This is the end of Guardian of the God. The story continues in Traveler of the Blue Road.