Guardian of Heaven and Earth
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New Yogo
Part 3 - Heaven and Earth
Chapter 1 - Voices of the Earth and Sky
Torogai rustled through the tall grass. Several people carrying torches tamped down the grass, making a place for her to sit. They dipped skewered bird meat in oil and roasted it over a fire for dinner.
The moon was out, but the sky was overcast; wind blew clouds over the moon and hid it from view. Torogai sat down on the flattened grass and drank wine with dinner.
“Fill my cup again,” Torogai said.
A woman filled a wooden cup with a sweet-smelling alcoholic beverage. Torogai quaffed the contents of her cup in a single gulp, then heaved a contented sigh.
“It’s about time for the hosam flowers to start blooming, but it’s been so cold,” Torogai muttered. “A lot of the snow hasn’t even melted yet. That should happen any day now...”
A slightly built older man sat next to Torogai, eating from his skewer. He put a spiced miso powder called jiki on a yui leaf and crushed it before eating.
“You should eat before you start drinking,” the man said. “We’ll talk after we’ve all finished our meal.”
Torogai’s eyebrows rose. She appeared offended. “Are you so concerned for the health of Oromugai and Kashugai, young whippersnapper?”
“I’m not concerned for anyone’s health, but knowledge,” he said. “You’re the best and strongest magic weaver out of all of us.”
“Maybe if you had a few, you’d be more agreeable,” Torogai muttered, waving her cup.
“Agreeable?” the man snorted. “Are you flirting with me?”
“And if I was?” Her eyebrows waggled.
All the people sitting around the fire laughed, including Torogai. All of them were magic weavers. Some were pure Yakoo, others pure Yogoese, but most of them were mixed race. They had all apprenticed under masters for many years to hone their craft and develop their specialized knowledge.
After polishing off their skewers, the magic weavers ate steamed rice and a soup whose stock was made with bird bones. As they finished eating, they started discussing the state of things in the Misty Blue Mountains along the line of the Blue Bow River.
“The mountains of Cha Kochi in the west are still buried in snow, even at this time of year,” Gashugai said, licking oil from the skewers off his fingers. “The only reason the river hasn’t flooded the banks is because everything’s still frozen.”
“The situation in the east on Oh Kochi is the same. The Turtle River is fortified against floods, but I don’t think the retaining walls are going to be strong enough this year.”
Oromugai leaned forward. “Seems like the time is coming soon. The source of the extra water is in Sahnan, the water source for our continent. There will be flooding everywhere. The capital will probably be washed completely away.”
Torogai rubbed her chin. “Spirits are pairing up in the Yusa Mountains to the north. The Mountain King will take a new mate. Kanbal is also affected by the changing of the season. I expect their lands will flood, too.”
“Is that true?” Gashugai looked appalled.
“Yes. I’ve heard it from several Kanbalese people who were trapped here when the borders closed.”
“I heard something from my master,” Oromugai said hoarsely. “Apparently, there was a terrible earthquake many hundreds of years ago that changed the entire shape of the land, even the way the rivers flow. Rivers and lakes overflowed and flooded the land. Spirits from Nayugu migrated away from the disaster in such numbers that they formed a rainbow across the sky.”
The spirits in the Yusa Mountains spilled forth and became a rainbow. My master said that the spirits pairing off brings forth new spirits from the earth, causing it to cry out as new spirits are born.”
“Well, that’s inconvenient. They certainly cause a lot of damage to the earth in being born,” a middle-aged magic weaver said.
The assembled magic weavers exchanged weak smiles.
The Yusa Mountains and Misty Blue Mountains were right next to one another. It was spring in Nayugu, making temperatures warmer, so the water that was usually bound up in the mountain peaks would melt and run down the mountains, increasing the water level in Nayugu even further. It seemed obvious to everyone that the entire country would flood—especially the lowlands like Kosenkyo and the farming villages that bordered the Blue Bow River and its tributaries.
One of the oldest magic weavers, who was sitting farther from the fire than the others, frowned darkly. “We’ll get runoff from both mountain ranges here. We need to tell everyone to get to high ground as soon as possible, or many lives will be lost.”
“Even if we tell them, they won’t go,” the middle-aged magic weaver said. “They’re all busy in the fields at the moment. And besides, there might not be enough room for everyone to get to high ground, anyway. We also don’t know exactly when the flood will begin.”
“The source of this problem is in Nayugu,” Orumugai said. “The Mountain King is taking a mate. So we should see the flood in Nayugu before we see it here.”
Torogai rested her hands on her knees. “Tanda told me something interesting. There are people who are born with he ability to see both Nayugu and Sagu simultaneously, and at will. He suggested using them as o chal—early warning signals for those of us who can’t see it.
Orumugai and the other magic weavers nodded. “As expected of your apprentice,” Orumugai said. “And while we can’t see Nayugu naturally, our abilities do allow us to assess the situation there. We can sound the alarm when we notice disturbances that indicate the flood is near.”
“I know someone like that,” Gashugai said. “Someone who can see Nayugu, I mean.”
The other magic weavers nodded. They, too, knew at least one other person capable of seeing Nayugu.
“It will be difficult to warn everyone when the snow is already melting on the mountains,” Torogai said. “We need to prepare places for people to evacuate to. There won’t be time for them to run far from their villages when the flood is already upon us. And we’ll send birds of light as messengers, projecting our souls to spread the word quickly when the flood is finally here.”
Orumugai frowned. “Creating birds of light isn’t a simple trick. “There are seven of us, including your apprentice, who can do it—and we’d have to warn twenty-seven villages, spaced far apart. It’s impossible.”
“And what about the people in the capital?” Gashigai asked.
Torogai smiled. “Leave the capital to me. I have it taken care of. The villages are the main concern now.”
“What do you mean?” the middle-aged magic weaver asked. “The people in the capital won’t listen to magic weavers. They have no trust in us, especially the people in the Middle Fan and the Upper Fan who are wealthy and noble. They believe we are evil and untrustworthy.”
“If they’re determined to be stubborn, they won’t be saved,” Torogai said. “All we can do is warn them.”
Orumugai looked like he wanted to make an objection, but Torogai cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Listen,” she said. “The moment the o chal see signs of flooding, we must all send out birds of light as messengers to the villages. I will serve as the Master of the Misty Blue Mountains, Oh Roku Ohm.”
The other magic weavers were dumbstruck.
“Master Torogai, do you intend to use the Thread of the Golden Spider?” Orumugai asked.
Torogai chuckled, but Oromugai and the other magic weavers appeared afraid.
“Only Norugai, your master, was able to use that technique successfully,” Orumugai said. “If it should fail…”
Torogai nodded. “I learned how to do it from Norugai long ago, when I was forty and she was seventy. She once used it to warn a village of a terrible earthquake. She used the Thread of the Golden Spider—Sho Yai—to project her soul and warn everyone. There are few of us now, but by using the Thread of the Golden Spider, we should be able to warn everyone in time.” Torogai seemed to be looking at something very far away. “It is very powerful, but also very dangerous. My master only passed its secret on to me just before her death.”
There was a long silence. Torogai looked around at the magic weavers and said, “Why such grim faces? It isn’t as if being a magic weaver is easy at the best of times. We are, all of us, walking along the line of a very thin thread that could snap at any time. If you’re afraid of reaching for new knowledge or using new and powerful techniques, then you should give up magic weaving for something simpler.”
Torogai cackled. “If I live through this, buy me a huge jar of wine. Yeah?” She shrugged. “And if I die, make sure my exploits are told in song and story. I have no desire to be forgotten.”
Shuga felt warm wind against his face. He looked up at the surface of a mountain and saw muddy water falling in sheets from its summit, toppling trees and flowing rapidly toward the ground below. The flood triggered a landslide that crumbled the entire mountainside.
Shuga covered his face with his arm. There was no place to run. The trees surrounding him were uprooted, carried away with the waves—
He waited to be swept away in the landslide, but it didn’t happen. Shuga opened his eyes cautiously. He was surrounded by swirling, milk-colored fog. There was no sign that a landslide had taken place recently. There was only the fog, and the smell of some fragrant tree burning nearby.
Shuga sneezed. The mist before him gathered around a single point, then started unwinding like a spool of thread directly in front of him until he could no longer see the place where it was thinnest in the gloom.
There was a dim figure before him, indistinct. There was no one there, but he felt the presence of a soul. He also heard someone speaking, but he was too far away to identify any words.
The hazy figure in front of Shuga grew larger and started taking on definition. Shuga blinked in surprise when he recognized the figure. “Torogai!” It was her voice that he’d been hearing, but it had been far away; he had heard it as an echo from a mountain valley.
“That wasn’t a dream,” Torogai said. “It may have felt like one, but it wasn’t.”
Shuga frowned. “I saw a landslide,” he said.
“The water in the rivers will overflow and cause a flood,” Torogai said. Shuga could hear her voice, but it was faint. “It will happen in less than twenty days.”
Torogai’s voice became weaker, quieter. Shuga realized that the connection between their spirits was fraying because he wasn’t yet skilled at this kind of magic weaving. He didn’t know how to strengthen or maintain the connection.
“Wait!” Shuga said. “Within twenty days, you said? How will we know when it’s coming?”
“You will feel a thread,” Torogai whispered. “A golden thread attached to your soul. You are my apprentice. You will hear the voice of the earth.”
The edges of Torogai’s image blurred. Her spirit was like a white light. Just before she vanished, she said, “You are a Star Reader. Warn the people using the voice of your God of the Heavens.”
Shuga sat up in bed. He’d broken into a cold sweat and had a headache. He understood that what he’d just seen was not an ordinary dream. He’d smelled a fragrant tree in flames and seen a landslide, followed by a flood. The fragrant tree was used to connect souls together over long distances; Torogai had taught Shuga how to do this. The visions he’d seen must have come from her.
A disaster was coming. The season was too warm and all the runoff from the mountains was making the rivers and lakes swell with water--too much water. The capital would flood. There would be a disaster.
Twenty days.
Shuga stared into the darkness of his room with an expression of horror. He wished that all of this was a nightmare, but it wasn’t. He had to do something.
Shuga got up and started getting his star charts and portent readings in order. His hands shook the entire time. The Imperial Palace and the Star Palace both bordered the Blue Bow River. If the flood was as serious as it appeared, both places would be completely washed away. There were drainage ditches and dikes to provide flood control, of course, but Shuga knew that these wouldn’t be enough.
New Yogo didn’t have to wait for Talsh to come and destroy it. A disaster of this scale would do a fine job of that all on its own.
Why did Kainan Nanai even decide to come here? Why leave the southern continent, built Kosenkyo and the Star Palace, and found a new nation? Did he not foresee this?
The Blue Bow River had never had a serious flooding problem historically, but now, it was all Shuga could think about. Building Kosenkyo’s capital so close to two rivers that could flood at any time was a risk. Kainan Nanai was a wise man, so he must have had his reasons. The official explanation was that Kosenkyo was built in a gap in the mountains, where the stars could be easily read and Tendo could be practiced. Was that the truth? Or were there other reasons?
Shuga pushed off his shilya bedding and stood up. He got dressed and opened a small box close to his pillow. There was a key inside. Shuga took the key and went out into the dark hallway of the Star Palace.
There was no one else in the hallway at this hour. Candles flickered in their holders, providing dim illumination.
Shuga stopped outside the Holy Sage’s room, then entered through the enormous door that led to Hibi Tonan’s inner sanctum. Shuga still thought of it as his, even though he had died some time ago. The room was eerily empty. Shuga shivered, feet cold from the stone floor, and looked up at the raised dais where the Holy Sage used to sit.
The enormity of the space dwarfed him. Shuga took a deep breath, then picked up one of the lit candles lined up along one wall. The candles were meant to ward away evil. He pushed a tapestry hanging on the wall to the side, revealing a locked door. Shuga unlocked the door with his key and went inside.
This room had first belonged to Kainan Nanai. His diaries and records were stored there and kept secret from all the other Star Readers, save for the Holy Sage. The oldest records were on stone tablets written in an archaic register of Old Yogoese.
It had been five years since the Holy Sage had first given Shuga the key to this room. He’d been so busy with Crown Prince Chagum’s education that he hadn’t been able to visit it too often, but Crown Prince Chagum had been away from the Imperial Palace for a very long time. Shuga sat down at Kainan Nanai’s desk and started reading through some of the records he’d left behind.
He was trying to figure out why Kainan Nanai had chosen to build the capital where it was. He set many stone tablets on the floor and started to read in the dim light of his candle. The room and the floor were both cold, but he barely noticed.
Shuga narrowed his eyes at what he read. The tablet gave Kainan Nanai’s reasoning for recruiting and teaching young Star Readers in Kosenkyo.
The young must be taught and encouraged in their gifts so that we always have an understanding of what the heavens are trying to communicate. The practice of Star Reading is meant to defend our nation from disasters and provide advance warning before they occur. If Star Reading is not consistently practiced, our capital and our nation will be destroyed.
Shuga felt goosebumps rise on his skin. His fingers rested in the carved stone letters as he held his breath, staying completely still.
Kainan Nanai was a complicated man. He had accomplished much for New Yogo, but he’d also concealed many important secrets for his own inscrutable reasons. What Shuga felt more than anything else was betrayal. Kainan Nanai had betrayed future Star Readers by not sharing his secrets and philosophy with them. It was like trying to navigate while blind.
If Star Reading is not consistently practiced, our capital and our nation will be destroyed.
Kainan Nanai had known that something like this would happen, but the Star Readers had forgotten over the generations--or they’d never been told. All the portents in the heavens lately pertained to the Talsh invasion, especially the Portent of Great Change, which indicated that the old would give way to the new--likely in a violent way.
Shuga had assumed that the portent was related to the Talsh, but it was possible that it was a warning about the flood as well. If that was the case, none of the other Star Readers knew. Shuga was the only one with forewarning of the flood.
Shuga blew out his candle and left Kainan Nanai’s secret room. Dawn was still a long way off, but Shuga wasn’t the least bit tired. He climbed the steps of the Star Palace to the viewing platform atop the tower. The Star Readers and guards on duty had blankets over their shoulders and were huddled near the torches and watchfires. Some of them were more than half-asleep.
Shuga remembered falling asleep here during late shifts all the time when he was a boy. Shuga rested his hand on the guardrail and looked silently up at the sky, careful not to wake any of the sleepers.
The sky was partly cloudy, but Shuga could see many stars clearly.
The young must be taught and encouraged in their gifts so that we always have an understanding of what the heavens are trying to communicate.
Star Reading had been continuously practiced for two hundred years, but there was so much they didn’ t know and hadn’t been told. Shuga and the other young Star Readers had a poor foundation to learn from. Kainan Nanai had used his knowledge of the heavens and the future to guide the Mikado and the nation. He was considered uncommonly wise by most people, but Shuga was starting to revise his opinion.
Shuga looked up at the Portent of Great Change and sighed. The city might be swept away in a landslide or a flood, but it was still the beginning of spring. Flowers were blooming and trees were starting to fruit. Life went on. It might be too late to save the capital, but that didn’t mean there was nothing Shuga could do. Kainan Nanai himself had relocated in a time of danger.
Shuga heard a sound behind him and turned. The Star Reader who had fallen asleep was awake. He stammered an apology to Shuga and started looking at portents again,
“I want to open a formal conference for all the Star Readers tomorrow morning, ” he said. “I’ve made a discovery, and we have much to discuss.”
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