Brave Story

by Miyuki Miyabe

  There were so many keys hanging from the ring that it took Wataru a while to find the one that opened the gate to the corridor. Meanwhile, the shouts of joy and frustration coming from the people trapped in the cells filled the narrow hall with a cacophony of noise.

  Finally, he got the gate open. Everyone was shouting so loudly, that even when he put his hands to his mouth and bellowed back, no one could hear him. Wataru drew his sword and banged it against the bars of the gate.

  “Quiet! Everybody quiet!”

  When the prisoners had finally quieted down, Wataru called out, “Is Mr. Fanlon down here?” He heard Toni’s excited reply from a cage a little ways down the corridor. Wataru ran up to the bars.

  Toni Fanlon was as emaciated as Elza. His long days of incarceration had left him pale as a ghost, and the bones of his cheek jutted out from his face. Even his long black hair, bound into a ponytail, seemed thinner than when they had met before. But his eyes were open, and when he saw Wataru, they gleamed with a lively light. “You’re the Highlander from Gasara.” Toni grabbed the bars of his cage with both hands. “Did you come here alone? Do you have friends?”

  “Sorry, it’s just me,” Wataru said, grabbing the bars himself to stay on his feet. “I meant to sneak in, but things kind of got out of hand. We can’t go back up there. I’m afraid that by now, Branch Chief Pam and his men and the Knights of Stengel are out there surrounding the cathedral.”

  Another chorus of cries, this time cursing him, went up from the beastkin and waterkin in the cages. Only Toni was smiling. “So then, you haven’t come to save us. You come to join us.”

  “I’m afraid so. Sorry.”

  “What did you plan to do?”

  “Is there another way out of here, besides that ladder?”

  “Of course not,” Toni said, laughing out loud, then he turned to the beastkin and waterkin sharing his cell. Together, they howled with laughter. “Of course there isn’t, which is why we made one. In secret, of course.”

  The man applauded, then began removing simple boards from a section of the floor, revealing a large hole beneath.

  “This tunnel goes all the way outside the village!” the beastkin next to Toni roared, brandishing his long, pointed claws with pride. “We could have left anytime we wanted—but we were worried about the men in the other cells. You came at just the right time, my little Highlander! Now get to opening those cages!”

  Wataru was so stunned he almost collapsed on the spot. Toni reached through the bars in the nick of time and caught him by the arm, holding him up. “Stay with us. You look hurt. If you’re going to pass out, do it later. We need to get to safety first.”

  “Right.”

  Toni grabbed his hand holding the keys and pulled him toward the bars. His black eyes were wide. “That’s my toolbox!”

  Wataru looked down at the belt around his waist. Miraculously, the box hadn’t come loose in the struggle upstairs.

  “You’ve seen Elza?”

  “Yes. She’s fine. She’s worried about you, but unharmed.”

  “That is good news,” Toni said quietly.

  “She gave me this for you. I want you to make me a wyrmflute. That’s why I came to Lyris, to find you.”

  Toni’s haggard face filled with raw determination. “Understood. I don’t know exactly what you’re talking about, but whatever it is, I’ll make it. For now, let’s just get out of here!”

  Chapter 37

  Jozo’s Wings

  Once they were through the long tunnel and into the mountains outside Lyris, the escapees parted ways.

  “Tell the branches in other towns. When they hear of the situation in Lyris, they’re sure to come to our aid.”

  Wataru looked at the crowd of mostly women and children and worried about their future. But despite the situation, the former residents of Bricklayer Street seemed to be euphoric.

  “We know the lay of the land around here,” one beastkin who looked like a rabbit assured him. “They won’t catch us. You can be sure of that.”

  Toni Fanlon at his side, Wataru made his way through the forest, crossing over a hill, toward the Great Marker Tree. Kee Keema’s darbaba cart, its wheels caked with mud from the long journey, was waiting for them as promised. Meena had climbed onto one of the branches of the tree, so she was the first to spot Wataru and Toni approaching. She nearly fell to the ground when she saw Wataru’s bedraggled condition.

  “I guess even acrobats slip sometimes,” laughed Wataru. “I know it looks bad, but it’s just a lot of scrapes. Nothing too serious.”

  “You lie. You look terrible. What happened?”

  There would be time enough for talk later. The party piled onto the darbaba cart.

  “We need to get out from under the eyes of the Lyris branch first, find some place where Toni can work on the flute. It’s a bit of a rocky ride, but hang in there. Taclou’s a bit farther up in the mountains. They’re pretty much cut off from the rest of the world, so we should be safe from Lyris—and the branch. That’s where we’ll head.”

  Kee Keema gave his darbaba a hearty crack of the whip, and they took off, sending up dust in their wake.

  The little village of Taclou wasn’t much to look at. A long, long time ago it had seen a rush when gold was found in the surrounding hills. But as soon as the veins were mined out, the town’s golden age came to an end. Now only a few lived here, most of them elderly, and they spent their days working quietly in fields cut from the mountainsides.

  “The goldcraft of Taclou is famous among antiques dealers,” Toni said, looking over the collection of thatched-roof huts that made up the town. “I’ve handled them once or twice, to make repairs. Never imagined I’d see the place where they were made.”

  When the darbaba cart pulled up to the entrance to town, a few wizened faces appeared at windows. Moments later, villagers were streaming around them, greeting Kee Keema warmly. Wataru was surprised. “It’s almost like they know you!”

  “Oh, I’ve been here several times, though not really for work. Some of the older folks here can’t make it down into the larger towns, so we darbaba drivers buy supplies and other things and bring them up to the village.”

  Most of the residents were beastkin who, in their youth, had worked in the mines. They were all very kind, and seemed overjoyed to see Kee Keema again. When he explained the situation, they were given a small hut to use, and someone brought them food and a little water to drink.

  The town master was a beastkin with white hair all over his body—there were even tufts poking out of his ears. To Wataru, he looked like an extremely old but vigorous Siberian husky.

  After a night’s rest, Toni began his work on the wyrmflute. His excitement when he first laid eyes upon Jozo’s scale was palpable. “This will be the greatest work of my life,” he said, his cheeks flushed. “Not even the master craftsmen who taught me ever worked with a dragon scale. And here I am. I cannot afford a mistake. We have only one scale.”

  Toni asked for three days to make the flute. “I’m confident I can do it,” he said as he shut himself inside the hut.

  “Did you see his eyes when he looked at that thing? That’s a craftsman for you, a real artist…” Kee Keema said, grinning. “It’s hard to imagine that he was locked up in a cage for days. Look at him now—like a little boy!”

  “He just wants to lose himself in his work,” Meena suggested. “That way he doesn’t have to think about Elza back in Lyris.”

  Wataru had been worried about Elza too. The escape of Toni and the others would surely cause a stir among the ankha in Lyris. Security would be tighter than ever. But still, even though she was on their side, Elza was Branch Chief Pam’s daughter. It was doubtful she would come in harm’s way. That’s what Wataru told himself.

  At least he was back with his friends, and they were safe. As soon as he was lying on a flat surface he fell deep into sleep. As he slept, his temperature rose until he was feverish, causing Meena no end of worry. One of the villa
ge men brewed him some tea from a medicinal herb said to be efficacious in easing fevers from injuries. It was so bitter that Wataru had great difficulty choking it down. And so it was that Toni Fanlon was absorbed in his work, and Wataru was resting, when a group of Highlanders and Knights of Stengel paid a visit. Contrary to Kee Keema’s assumptions, the tiny village of Taclou had been included in the search for the escaped prisoners.

  But the searchers didn’t stay long, and quickly became frustrated with the slow-talking, long-eared residents.

  “The people here are made of stauncher stuff than you might think,” Meena whispered, sticking out her tongue and smiling. “They can hear much better than they let on—they just pretend to be deaf because they know it infuriates those Highlanders.”

  Wataru was able to recover in peace and quiet. Slowly, and in bits and pieces, he told Meena what happened inside the Cistina Cathedral.

  “I’m amazed you made it out of there alive,” Meena said, her gray eyes shimmering.

  “It’s thanks to the sword, really,” Wataru said. “I just…I still can’t believe I killed Father Diamon.”

  “He only got what he deserved. And if he’d been able to kill you, you know he would have. Then you wouldn’t have been able to save anyone—least of all yourself.”

  Wataru knew it was true, but the guilt lingered in the corner of his mind. Lying there, looking up at the simple wooden rafters, listening to the wind rustling through the thatched roof, smelling the stew warming on the stove and freshly baked bread, it seemed like it all had been a bad dream. But, every time he stirred in his sleep or woke from a nap, he felt like he was back in the Cathedral, witnessing it all happen again. He saw the Cistina statue slowly toppling, crushing Father Diamon. Blood streamed from the wound on his forehead. He was screaming.

  Whenever Wataru cried out in the middle of a dream, whether it was day or night, Meena would be there at his bedside. Sometimes he would look at her, and think that her profile looked much like his mother’s. Similar, but not the same. Maybe her face belonged to someone else—perhaps a girl Wataru might meet in the future. Whoever she was, she was gentle and kind, and Wataru wanted to meet her very much.

  When he was at last able to get up and walk around, albeit still wrapped in bandages, Toni Fanlon emerged from his hut. In his hand he grasped a tiny, shining red flute.

  “It is done,” he said, exhausted. He had gone for three days with no sleep or rest, and barely a drink of water.

  Wataru picked up the flute. Though the scale was gone, its ruby-like brilliance lived on in the new form. The long, slender masterpiece looked less like a flute and more like the beak of a bird yet unknown to man. Wataru found himself wondering what sort of sound it made.

  “This spot should do nicely.”

  The village master of Taclou led Wataru and the others to a clearing in the forest a short distance from town. The grass was soft, sprinkled with small white flowers. In the village’s more prosperous days, the clearing had been used for festivals and town gatherings.

  “Dragons are a large sort, I’m sure, but he should have plenty of room here. Footing’s good too.”

  Wataru took a deep breath and looked up. Not a single cloud marred the blue sky above him. A gentle wind blew through the clearing.

  “What are you waiting for? Give it a blow, Wataru.”

  Meena and Kee Keema held their breath. The town master and a curious group of villagers stood nearby. For most of them, it would be their first time seeing a dragon. Even though they were old, their faces shone like kids at a birthday party.

  “Right.”

  Wataru found himself getting nervous. Gripping the flute firmly between his fingers so that he wouldn’t drop it, he brought it to his lips. The crimson flute was slightly warm to his touch as he blew softly into the mouthpiece.

  Sound came flowing out of the flute in a rich flood. It was as though a translucent veil had been wrapped around them, making everything seem at once sharper and yet more unreal. The forest leaves, dull just a moment before, became a radiant green, and the tiny white flowers in the grass beneath their feet sparkled.

  The wyrmflute wasn’t changing its tone with Wataru’s breath. Rather, it felt like it was touching his very soul. It sang its own song and called out to the farthest reaches of the sky. The sound rode the wind, rising above the clouds, soaking in the light of the sun, and whispering sweetly to everything upon the ground as it rose, higher and higher.

  “It’s beautiful,” Meena whispered, looking up at the sky. It was almost as if she could see the waves of sound rolling through the heavens. Wataru saw it too. It was like a pure wind of terrific energy, cutting across the clear sky of Vision, circling around the clearing in which they stood.

  The illusion remained briefly, even after Wataru took his lips from the flute. The instrument glimmered once—a bright crimson light between Wataru’s fingers—before falling into a satisfied silence.

  No one there was really sure how long they waited. They had all lost sense of the passing of time. As one, they looked up at the blue sky, excitement filling their hearts. At length, a single small crimson speck appeared far away in the blue sky. It was as though another wyrmflute had winked into existence high above their heads. But this crimson star shining in the middle of the day was clearly moving. It was coming closer, answering the flute’s call, flying straight across the cloudless blue.

  As they watched, the crimson speck grew larger until they could see the wings. Each powerful beat sent air swirling behind it, giving it a rainbow trail as it flew, closer and closer now.

  Wataru, unthinking, lifted a hand. Everyone began waving. The crimson wings were distinct against the sky now. There was no mistake—it was a dragon. The dragon spread its wings, circling once over the crowd, then stopping in midair. The villagers scattered, opening a space in the center of the clearing. With an artful twist of his wings, Jozo slowly descended, his clawed legs extended. The underbrush in the forest swayed in the wind with every beat of his wings. Wataru’s hair, Meena’s ears, and the loose-fitting clothes of the villagers were whipped about. Everyone smiled and laughed and waved their hands like crazy.

  Jozo’s feet touched the ground. The giant firewyrm landed carefully, so as not to knock anyone over with his massive wings. His large, round eyes scanned the crowd searching for Wataru.

  “Jozo!” Wataru ran out, his arms spread wide. The firewyrm folded his wings and greeted Wataru with a sound like a soft bark.

  “Ah! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Jozo said. He had grown considerably since they had met in the Swamp of Grief. His wings were strong, his fangs gleamed, and every inch of his body was covered in hard, crimson scales. Still, his cheery voice was no different. “It sure took you a while to call me. I was starting to get worried.”

  “Sorry. A lot has happened since then. I’m surprised you remember me.”

  “How could I forget?” Jozo said, blinking. “You did save my life.”

  Wataru looked at Jozo’s tail and saw that it was still severed where he had cut it with his sword to save the dragon from the ravenous kalon in the swamp.

  “Your tail didn’t grow back?”

  Jozo swung the stump of his tail against the grass and laughed. This sent a smattering of Taclou folk scampering in every direction.

  “I may be a dragon, but some things are beyond me. Ach, the wyrmking was right furious. Said that’s what comes of my inordinate fondness for aerial acrobatics. Still, it’s good to have a few battle scars. Makes you look more experienced, if you know what I mean.”

  Jozo craned his neck to look at the crowd. “Friends of yours, Wataru?”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “Why are their eyes and mouths so big?”

  Wataru laughed out loud. “They’re startled to see you. I think it’s their first time seeing a dragon.”

  “Is that so? Well, good day, everyone.”

  Shouts of surprise went up from the villagers at the dragon’s friendly
greeting. Some of the older among them fell straightaway onto the ground. Even the town master was wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. “This is, this is…it’s real. It’s a real firewyrm!”

  “In the flesh,” Jozo said proudly.

  Meena took a tentative step forward. “Wa-Wataru…”

  “Jozo, these are my traveling companions, Meena and Kee Keema.”

  “Nice to meet you, Miss Kitkin. And big Mister Waterkin!”

  “N-not so big compared to you,” Kee Keema said.

  “True enough, true enough. But you might be three times my age. Never can tell with waterkin.”

  Never can tell with dragons, Wataru was thinking. Jozo was a perfect example: his body was huge, but he was still clearly a child of his species.

  “So, Wataru, where is it you want to go? I can fly a whole lot faster and higher than the first time we met. I’ll take you wherever it is you need to be.”

  Wataru explained the situation. Jozo listened, casually taking it all in. “Dela Rubesi, you say? Indeed, the air around the Undoor Highland has been a trifle odd of late. Probably would be dangerous for the karulakin to fly.”

  “You knew about that?”

  “Of course I did. Vision’s skies are my home. You ready to leave?”

  “You bet!”

  Wataru and his friends had already prepared for their departure. Jozo stuck out his neck, and Kee Keema climbed on first. He then pulled up Meena and Wataru. The entire village had come out to see them off.

  “Thank you for all your help, we are in your debt,” Wataru said to the town master.

  “Not at all, not at all. Glad to do it.”

  “Please look after Mr. Fanlon for us too.”

  “You leave that to us. When he’s well again, we’ll take him on a pass we know through the mountains. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure he reaches Gasara safely.”

  Wataru had given a letter to Toni that detailed the recent events in Lyris. He asked him to take it directly to Kutz in Gasara.