Brave Story

by Miyuki Miyabe

  Everyone Wataru saw on the streets of Lyris, including the Highlanders and the Knights, were all ankha. Most of the shops were closed, and some even had their windows and doors boarded up. But compared to the devastation on Bricklayer Street, the center of town was quite peaceful. The shops that were open had long lines out in front. Walking by one, Wataru overheard conversations about where each place was getting its goods. The supply routes into the city, he learned, had been shut down.

  “I suppose we’ll just have to make do until they finish rounding up the undesirables,” he heard one ankha woman grumble. Wataru felt a chill run down his spine. Undesirables. They’ve closed off the town, and now they’re hunting down all the non-ankha. Hunting them down…and then what?

  By the time he reached Pam’s residence, Wataru was gasping like a fish out of water. As he got closer to the house, he was able to spot Elza directly in front of a second-story window. There was no one on the first floor when he slipped inside the front door.

  Quickly releasing the barrier, he found a nearby chair and flopped down. His shoulders heaved with each pained breath. A sudden wave of dizziness came over him, and he had to hang onto the back of the chair to keep from slipping onto the floor. The chair creaked.

  He heard soft footfalls from the floor above.

  “Who’s there?”

  It was Elza. She was coming down the stairs. Wataru looked around, still clinging to the back of his chair.

  “My, it’s…it’s you!”

  Her beautiful black eyes were just as he remembered them. But her slender frame was even more sticklike. She seemed practically emaciated now.

  “Where…is Mr. Fanlon?” Wataru managed to say, before tumbling off the chair. He fell to the floor, and it was all he could do just to breathe.

  Elza hid Wataru up in her room and brought him some cold water. After a while he regained his composure and explained the wyrmflute to her.

  “Yes, yes,” she nodded. “I’m sure Toni could make that for you. In fact, he’s probably the only one who could do it.”

  Wataru noticed her eyes filled with tears. “But he can’t help you now…he was arrested,” she said. “When my father deployed a unit of Highlanders to Bricklayer Street, he was taken prisoner.”

  “Do you know where he was taken?”

  “The Cistina Cathedral.”

  “There? Not some detention facility?”

  What, were they cramming people into the cathedral and trying to force them to believe in the Old God?

  “There’s a large dungeon beneath the church,” Elza explained. “My father worked it out with the pastor there. They said the power of Cistina was the best thing for holding heretics.”

  The pastor would be Father Diamon, whom Wataru had met earlier. He remembered his shiny bald head and those eyes like thorns.

  “So all I have to do is get into the dungeons beneath the cathedral?”

  “Yes…but how will you get down there? I don’t know the way. I’ve been there many times, but I’ve never seen any stairs going down.”

  Wataru took a deep breath. He would have to go and see for himself. He felt a strange fluttering in his chest, like his heart was beating slightly out of step. His legs, too, were a little weak.

  “Have another drink of water. You look pale. And you should probably eat something too.”

  He shook his head. “Thanks, water’s enough. I don’t have much time.” Still, he was deeply grateful when she brought him more water and a damp towel to wipe the sweat off his face. “How are you doing, Elza? I’ve seen the town—things are really bad, aren’t they?”

  In response, Elza turned her tear-streaked cheeks toward the window. Walking over, she drew the curtain. “It’s all because of the news about Halnera, about how a sacrifice is needed to remake the Great Barrier of Light.”

  Wataru had guessed as much. “There’ve been disturbances in other towns for the same reason. Prisoners and poor people seem the most worried. They’re afraid they’re more likely to be chosen. Some of the prisoners think that the USN government wants to sacrifice them to the Goddess before somebody important can be chosen.”

  “Yes, it is the same here.”

  “I think some people are taking advantage of the chaos for their own selfish agenda…”

  Still gripping the curtains in her hands, Elza turned and frowned. “Yesterday, my father said there was some trouble in the mines at Arikita.”

  “That’s right. The Knights of Stengel were sent there.”

  “Oh,” Elza sighed, slumping.

  “It looks like the distubance here had a lot to do with the ankha taking advantage of the non-ankha…more openly than usual, even.”

  Elza buried her face in the curtains.

  “I just don’t understand how things got this bad,” Wataru said, half to himself.

  Elza responded, her voice thin. “Only one person in the whole world will be chosen as the sacrifice. There’s no cause for this much alarm. And it certainly doesn’t have anything to do with race relations.”

  Wataru was silent. He thought there was plenty enough reason to be worried, even if there really was going to be only one sacrifice. For him, the chances were fifty-fifty.

  “But it was worse than Toni and I had feared,” Elza said, looking around. “Even my dad and Father Diamon were surprised just how deeply the teachings of the Old God had spread through the ankha in town. You know about the teachings?”

  Wataru nodded. “Enough to know they believe that the Goddess made the non-ankha races in her own image to fight against the Old God. They also believe that the Old God would one day destroy them all and make a paradise for ankha here in Vision.”

  A tear fell from Elza’s eyes as she continued. “According to the teachings, the need for a sacrifice every one thousand years to rebuild the Great Barrier is another of the Goddess’s schemes to persecute ankha. So, of course, an ankha would be chosen. Even if it is only one, every ankha is sacred and valuable in his duty to uphold the revival of the Old God, yet the Goddess chooses one of them. It’s all a part of her strategy to weaken them, they say.”

  Wataru snorted. “Sounds ridiculous.”

  “I wonder,” Elza said, looking at Wataru with sad eyes. “You are a Highlander, but I’m afraid you’re still a child. No matter how ridiculous it may sound, for those who believe, it’s the truth. To the followers of the Old God, the one whom the Goddess will choose is destined to be the savior of the ankha. That is why they must stop the sacrifice by any means possible.”

  Father Diamon had gathered a large crowd of believers at the Cistina Cathedral, explained Elza, and he had given a great sermon. That was when he explained to them that Halnera was not the time of the Great Barrier’s remaking—that was a fabrication of the Goddess. To those believers in the Old God who knew the truth, Halnera was the time when the Old God appeared through the Blood Star in the north. At that time, the Goddess and all her followers would be destroyed.

  “They say it’s a sign of the coming of a holy war, when the followers of the Old God finally destroy the Goddess, and take back Vision for their own.”

  Elza’s words reached Wataru, brushing against his cheek like a cold breath. He shivered. “The National Observatory in Lourdes didn’t say anything like that.”

  “Of course they didn’t. But people in Lyris believe Father Diamon, so it doesn’t matter what the observatory said.” Elza shook her head so vigorously the braid in her black hair came undone and her hair streamed over her shoulders. “That’s why Toni was arrested. But he couldn’t stand against them alone. There was nothing he could do. They burned his workshop…”

  Defeat pressed on Wataru’s shoulders, and he felt like he was sinking into his chair. Even if I did save Mr. Fanlon, he’d have no workshop to make the flute.

  Still, he wasn’t about to leave Toni Fanlon to his fate. Wataru placed his empty glass down by his feet, and stood.

  “What will you do?” Elza asked quietly.

 
“I’m going to Cistina Cathedral.”

  “By yourself? What will you be able to accomplish?”

  “I don’t know. But I have to find out the truth. If there are that many people down there held without investigation or trial, I can’t let that stand. I’ll expose the truth, get branches in other towns involved. Maybe there is something we all could do then.”

  Elza clung to the curtain, barely able to stand. The words left her trembling lips. “Toni might already be dead. My father told me. He said I’d never see Toni’s face again…”

  Wataru looked up at her. “It’s too early to give up.”

  A tear ran down Elza’s face. He touched her cheek with his hand.

  “If you give up, they’ll be no one left waiting for Mr. Fanlon. Don’t give up hope.”

  “But…”

  “And besides, I need that wyrmflute, and he’s the only one who can make it. I’ll save him, I promise.”

  “But you’re just a boy. What can you do?”

  Wataru drew his Brave’s Sword and made the cross in the air. Before Elza’s eyes he vanished.

  When he released the barrier and reappeared, Elza’s dark eyes were opened wide, and her face was so ashen he feared she might collapse on the spot. “Wh-what was that?”

  “A little magic. It will help me.”

  Elza staggered, and Wataru jumped to keep her from falling. She was trembling and her shoulders were heaving with every breath, much as Wataru’s had moments before. When she stood, she held his arms. “W-wait, just a second. Don’t leave.”

  Elza walked over to a small drawer next to her bed, retrieved a small wooden box, and clutched it to her breast. It was small enough to be held in one hand.

  “Take this with you.”

  Wataru took the box and looked it over. There was a small cloth belt attached to it. There was also a lock keeping the lid closed.

  “Open it.”

  Obeying her wishes, he lifted the lid and discovered a bundle of neatly arranged craftman’s tools.

  “Toni’s toolbox. He used it for all of his delicate work. He carried it around with him always, but before they set fire to his house, he gave it to me. He said that even if his workshop on Bricklayer Street was destroyed, he could use these tools to work anywhere. They’re as important as my soul, he said.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Elza nodded. Her eyes were still moist with tears, but her gaze was firm. “I believe you. Save him, and he will make your wyrmflute. Tell him that I will be waiting for him. Please.”

  “Understood,” Wataru said, fastening the toolbox around his waist. “I’ll give this to Mr. Fanlon when I see him. Soon.”

  Chapter 36

  The Cathedral Cages

  As it happened, Wataru arrived just in time for afternoon worship at the Cistina Trabados Cathedral. Believers sat on long pews arranged on either side of the center aisle. Standing at the altar, Father Diamon wore a heavy-looking embroidered silk shawl over his white vestments, and in his hand he held a leather-bound prayer book. He was reading in a loud, clear voice.

  With his sword, Wataru formed an invisible barrier around himself. Once inside the cathedral, he stood at the far back of the room behind a row of burning candles. The long, slender tapers provided a blue smoke screen for him to hide behind. He released the barrier and took a deep breath. The air smelled of wax.

  Wataru estimated there were about a hundred people praying. He had expected to find only ankha, but much to his surprise, there were several beastkin praying, as well. Their heads were lowered piously as they listened. The prayers themselves were palatable enough—Father Diamon urged his flock to give thanks to the Creator, and prayed for the swift recovery of those who had been harmed in the riots. But when Wataru thought about the real purpose of the cathedral here, he couldn’t understand why beastkin would willingly participate in any worship.

  Could it be that they don’t know?

  The reading of prayers ended, and Father Diamon began to give a sermon in a voice that echoed through the room. This too focused on the recent troubles in Lyris, and urged the people of the town to join hands and persevere through these hard times. It all sounded empty to Wataru. Still, the believers hung on every word, muttering their approval. All at once they stood and burst into song.

  When the prayer service had finished, the congregation shuffled out of the cathedral. Father Diamon closed the front doors and lowered a bar to lock them. The hem of his vestments swept across the polished floor, making a soft rustling sound. The pastor inspected the candles around the altar, and seeing that all was in order, he disappeared through a small door in the back.

  Good thing he didn’t come to inspect the candles back here.

  Wataru took a step out beyond the cover of smoke, brushed the dust off his sleeves, and looked around.

  Just what is going on here?

  The large doors in front served as the only exit and entrance to the building. It was the door behind the altar, the one Father Diamon had disappeared through, that interested Wataru. That led to another part of the cathedral for sure. That’s my way in. But once he went through, his chance of running into Father Diamon or someone else grew exponentially, and he might have to maintain the barrier for quite some time. Wataru wasn’t sure if his body could take the strain.

  Surely a building this size has some other exit. Wataru considered going out again and examining the place from the outside.

  Then, Wataru had the distinct impression he was being watched. He blinked.

  No one was there. The cathedral was as empty as it had been a moment before. No one could be watching him.

  I’m nervous. It’s just my mind playing tricks on me.

  Walking as quietly as he could, Wataru cut behind the pews, heading for the large central doors. He placed a hand on the bar…

  Someone is watching me. Wataru could feel eyes following his every move.

  Resting his hand on the hilt of his sword, Wataru slowly looked around. Where were they hiding, whoever they were?

  Wataru’s gaze went to the colorful stained glass on the walls. He could see the images of Cistina traced over and over again. Here she was appearing before a crowd of bowing craftsmen. There she was vanquishing foul beasts with the gem-tipped scepter in her hand.

  She was drawn quite beautifully, with utmost attention paid to every detail. But the artwork was inanimate. There was no life in any of the images. Surely, they couldn’t be the source of the eyes watching Wataru. Or was he wrong?

  He grabbed the bar again, and this time heard a rustling sound behind him. Wataru tensed and whirled around.

  What was that?

  Wataru’s nerves were so taut he could hear them giving off electric sparks. But that wasn’t the noise he heard. No, this sounded like something moving…

  The smell of freshly cut flowers tickled his nose. As it had been the last time he came here, a pile of flowers lay at the feet of the statue of Cistina. Wataru assumed they were arranged in that specific manner to hide the awful truth—that Cistina represented hate for beastkin.

  False flowers.

  Wataru allowed himself to catch his breath. Standing near the large doors he could see from here that a few of the white flowers had fallen from the statue pedestal onto the stone floor. That was the source of the sound he’d heard. They had probably been piled too high and fallen naturally of their own accord.

  There was no time to lose. Carefully, so as not to make a sound, he removed the bar and began to push on the door. Five or six more flowers fell off the pedestal, revealing one of the statue’s feet.

  For a moment, Wataru shivered. It looked as if the flowers had fallen because the statue of Cistina had moved.

  It’s just a statue, silly.

  He held his breath and watched. Just then, a rattling sound came from the door through which Father Diamon had disappeared. The door began to open. Wataru dove behind the nearest pew. The door opened, and someone stepped through. There was the sound
of robes sliding across the floor.

  Father Diamon? Uh-oh. If he comes straight down the center aisle, he’ll see me!

  Wataru hurriedly made a cross with the sword again, hiding himself behind the magical veil.

  The sound of robes against the floor came closer. Wataru peeked over the pew to see that it was, indeed, Father Diamon. He had taken off his elaborate shawl and wore only his white robes. In his hand, he carried his scepter with the gemstone at its tip, just like the one the statue of Cistina carried.

  His face seemed fuller, somehow, then when Wataru had met him the last time. He looked preternaturally lively, as though years had been taken off him within the span of a few days. Sweat gleamed on his shiny head, reminding Wataru for a moment of the view of the cathedral from the air. The cathedral had seemed to tower over the town of Lyris, blanketing it in shadow. Had the building somehow grown stronger, and Father Diamon with it?

  The pastor walked by the pew Wataru was hiding behind. He went two rows farther, then stopped in mid-stride.

  “I smell magic.”

  When he spoke, it was with that same gentle but powerful voice he used when reading prayers or giving a sermon. Wataru hunched down, and for a second he forget he was hidden behind the barrier. His heart thumped in his chest.

  Father Diamon slowly looked around. A thin smile played on his lips.

  I’m fine. The barrier is up—he can’t see me. Wataru felt his breathing getting ragged, so he focused on slowing down, taking deep breaths. I have to conserve strength.

  “Meddling wretch,” Father Diamon said, turning his whole body around this time. “Where are you hiding, I wonder?” he muttered gleefully, his back to Wataru.

  Just then he whirled around, and the scepter in his hand pointed directly at Wataru. “There!”

  Before Wataru could react, the gemstone flared brilliantly, and a bolt of lightning shot from the scepter’s tip. There was no time to dodge. Wataru took a direct hit from the bolt, holding his arms up to shield himself as best he could.