“Arrow Wind!” Toto screamed after him.
The horse kicked his way through a crowd of stony faces. In the sky above, the woman turned her gaze to follow him. Lips of black mist pursed and she blew a gentle breath.
Toto felt an icy wind blow over his head. The breath swept down the street, catching Arrow Wind in an instant and wrapping around his beautiful chestnut coat. Toto watched as his bushy tail, his hind hooves, his legs, and finally his back and mane turned to gray.
Arrow Wind’s scream ended abruptly; he was frozen in stone, front legs rearing up, hooves inches away from another of the stony city dwellers.
Toto’s breath stopped. Arrow Wind—
“No!”
A scream ripped from Toto’s throat and he started to run. I have to escape. I have to get out of this place—away from her. I have to get out of here alive, back to my village.
Toto ran in a daze. He did not dare look behind him, but he could feel that face floating there in the sky, giving chase, the same way he understood without looking that the face was smiling.
He pushed down a crowd of stone figures in his way, leapt over the fragments, and rounded a corner. A woman carrying a basket of ashen flowers crumbled into pieces at his feet when he slammed into her on the other side. Coughing from the dust, Toto ran even faster. If only he could reach the city wall, the gate where he had entered. Which way was it? Right, left? Where am I?
He felt a frigid breeze blow over his head, and a scream rose in his throat as he tripped and fell to the ground. Just ahead he saw the yawning door of a house, propped open by a stick. The inside was darker than the street, but still that same uniform gray. Everything within had been turned to stone as well.
Another breeze raced overhead, and Toto dashed into the house. As he darted through the door, something hit his leg and crumbled with a loud noise—a chair or a person, he wasn’t sure. Daylight streamed in through the window. Toto crouched low, crawling through the rooms of the house. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the dark swirling mass of the woman’s face outside the window. It warped as it moved, swelling first, then thinning into a line, speeding after him like an angry swarm of wasps.
Toto shoved aside the rubble in the room with both hands, reaching a patch of wall beneath the window. He slumped, back to the wall. He was out of breath, and his heart felt like it might leap out of his throat.
The face made no noise when it moved. In that, it was different than a buzzing swarm of insects, and it made it difficult for him to get up after he had found what felt like safety against the wall. What if he risked a peek outside only to see that face filling the sky, those dark eyes staring straight at him? He wished he had some way of guessing where it might be.
A tear fell from his cheek—apparently he had been crying with fright, though he hadn’t noticed until now. Toto forced himself to steady his breath, and rubbed his face with his hands.
He took a look around the room.
A table carved from what had once been wood stood by his feet. There was a round cushion on the floor and a chair lying on its back. Everything was the color of ash. A tapestry hung on the wall opposite the window, the sort that was a specialty of Toksa’s weavers. He could still make out the design: an intricate depiction of the sun and the moon and the stars wheeling through the sky. Though it was drab now, Toto could imagine how it once looked, sparkling and bright—a masterpiece. The fabric would have been soft, yet weighty, the luxurious threads plush against the skin. Now it was more like a thin slice of dry, crusty bread stuck to the wall.
I wonder how long the city has been like this. How long has it been since the city was last alive? A perfectly shaped fruit sat next to him on the floor. Its skin was unblemished. He touched it gently with one finger, and the surface crumbled, leaving a round impression in the shape of his fingertip. He grabbed it and squeezed as hard as he could; the fruit disintegrated into a fine gray dust that ran between his fingers. In time, Toto thought, that’s all that will remain of this place. Dust.
As Toto took another shuddering breath, he noticed something—a pair of eyes near the floor on the other side of the room. They were looking in his direction. Gradually, he made out the form of a slender person, with the long hair of a woman, lying on her side. She had fine features and lay with her right ear against the ground. Her shoulders were hunched and her legs were bent at the knees, as though she had been cowering in a chair. Even in stone, the supple lines of her shape, like the branches of a willow tree, were beautiful.
Her eyes were open wide in a stony stare. She almost seemed to be smiling at Toto. Perhaps she was someone’s mother or sister. He wondered what her last words had been—what she had been thinking when she died.
“I’m sorry,” Toto whispered, covering his face with his hands. He began to cry. I never should have come here. I shouldn’t have set foot in this place. What a fool I am.
He sobbed out loud now, unable to restrain himself any longer, and his shoulders heaved. The motion must have disturbed the wall behind him, for he heard a loud noise and the sound of something crumbling. Toto jumped to his feet and looked to see that a pole holding the window shutters open from the outside had fallen and collapsed into dust.
On his knees now, Toto shuffled away from the window. He saw the face flying through the sky, drawn by the noise. Toto’s stomach did a somersault.
She’ll find me!
There was no escape outside. He considered moving into another room. He could see a doorway, but a large cupboard had fallen over in front of it, and he didn’t think he’d be able to climb over in time. He looked around for any other exits.
Toto spotted an opening in another wall. He moved, quick as a woodland hare, dashing through the opening and then falling headfirst. As he began to tumble, he realized he was on a staircase leading into a cellar.
At the bottom, his head hit a wall, sending stars through his vision, and he heard an incredible crashing noise from above. A moment later, the light coming in through the doorway at the top of the stairs dimmed.
Toto sat up and looked around in the meager light. Where he had rolled through the cellar, things lay broken, just like the fruit upstairs.
I’m trapped...
Toto looked up at the thin ray of light shining through a hole in the rubble above. It looked like pieces of the house had fallen over the top third of the stairway. He wondered if he might be able to clear it out by hand.
But if I go up there, that monster will be waiting for me.
Toto turned back to the darkness of the cellar. The chilly air and dusty smell were the same as they had been above. It seemed large for an underground room. Maybe that meant another exit.
Toto began to crawl along the floor, searching. His hands met only the cold stone beneath him. He groped toward the right and found another wall. He pried at it with his fingers for a moment, then stopped.
Wait, that’s not a wall. It’s a piece of furniture. It’s divided into sections—and there’s something inside.
In the darkness, Toto’s face took on a serious, grown-up expression—the kind he’d never shown to anyone before, not even Ico. He began probing the cavity intently with his fingers, feeling the shapes of the objects, tapping them lightly with his fingers. He wrapped the tips of his fingers around one.
It moved and fell into Toto’s hand. He picked it up carefully and brought it into the light at the bottom of the stairs.
It was a book. He had found a bookshelf.
Of course the book was stone. He couldn’t open it, and his fingers left small indentations in the cover. In the dim light it was hard to make out the words, but he could see enough to tell that they were written in unfamiliar letters.
Toto was reminded of the bookshelves in the elder’s house. He and Ico had been scolded once when they snuck in to take a look. In that house, every part of the wall, save the door itself, was covered in books. The book of stone he held in his hands now looked a lot like those in the eld
er’s study.
Maybe this place was a study too? He wondered if the master of this house had been an important person like the elder. A scholar of ancient wisdom. Toto tried to be careful, yet even steadying his grip on the book made it break and crumble. He laid it gently on the floor and resumed his search, sweeping across the ground with his hands. Toward the back of the room it was so dark he couldn’t even see the tip of his own nose. Still, he was able to discover that three of the walls here were bookshelves, all filled to overflowing.
Somehow, it put him at ease. The elder was always saying they should read. Study, he told them often. Knowledge makes a man strong. Toto had never really listened. All a hunter needed was a keen eye and a steady hand. He could leave the studying to the slow of foot.
Even still, in this city of mysteries, hiding from something more frightful than the darkness around him, that tiny seed of respect for knowledge that had been planted inside him stirred and whispered to him in a tiny voice.
This place is safe.
This place is protected.
Or, Toto thought, maybe I’ve gone crazy and I’m hearing things.
He was standing in a fortress of books—a fortress with no other exit but those stairs.
There was nothing to do about it but find a way up and out. If he waited too long, the sun would go down and he would be left to cope in the pitch dark.
Wait—
Maybe it was better for him to remove the rubble and go upstairs after the sun had set. If the face couldn’t see him, how could it find him? Once darkness fell on the city, there would be any number of places where Toto could hide.
I’m a hunter, Toto thought furiously, putting a fist to his chest. He could run at night. He wouldn’t lose his way. He merely needed to look up at the stars and judge the moon’s height and he would be able to find his way out of the city and back home.
It’ll be hard without Arrow Wind.
Toto gritted his teeth and held back the trepidation he could feel growing inside him. It would be too easy to drown in self-pity. But that’s no way to be, he thought. No more crying. I have to get home.
Okay! Forgetting where he was for a moment, Toto stood tall. As he did, his left elbow smacked something so hard he gasped in pain. Whatever he had hit collapsed with a thud—a small piece of furniture he hadn’t noticed, perhaps.
Toto felt something moving through the air, and he sprang back in the nick of time. Something much larger than whatever his elbow had just encountered whooshed by his ear to collapse on the floor with a reverberating crash.
Toto had to cover his mouth and nose against the dust. He guessed that whatever little thing he had disturbed had knocked against one of the bookshelves and brought the whole thing down.
After waiting for the dust to settle, he began to feel around with his hands, quickly finding a mountain of shattered books. Something shimmered amongst the fragments.
At first, he doubted his eyes. It couldn’t be catching the light from upstairs; this part of the floor was pitch black, which meant something here was giving off its own light. It had a pale, beautiful gleam, like that of the Hunter’s Star, visible even on cloudy nights.
Toto felt through the pile with both hands, quickly retrieving the glimmering object. It was another book, not of stone, but of paper. It felt old and weathered, and there was no mistaking the feel of it in his hands.
Toto quickly moved into the light and began to examine his finding. The book was thin, with a white cover. Even when held directly in the light coming from upstairs, the book clearly gave off its own light.
Gingerly, he wiped the dust from its cover. The book’s glow brightened. Five words were written on the front in a script Toto had never learned, but he recognized it as the same script used in the old books back in the village.
The elder could read this.
More than its contents, Toto wondered how this book—one single book—had managed to avoid the dreadful curse that the Castle in the Mist had laid upon this city. And why did it glow with such a pure white light?
Whatever the book was, it must have been very strong indeed to have stood up to the castle’s wrath. Maybe, Toto thought, it can save me too.
Toto examined the rubble covering the staircase, then set to work, picking up one piece at a time, moving as carefully as possible so as not to make a single sound. By the time he had removed enough to pass, the sun had already set. Still, Toto remained crouched at the bottom of the stairs, waiting patiently. Come on, night, he thought. Moon, don’t show yourself, please. Hang darkness like a curtain over my path and let me get out of here alive!
He dozed while he waited, clutching the glimmering book to his chest with both hands, like a warrior holding his bow or his spear before battle, so close that it almost became a part of his body.
When all had fallen into the darkness of night, Toto climbed the steps. The curious book in his arms glowed, giving him courage and lighting the ground at his feet. He found he was able to make the glow stop simply by placing his hand over its cover. That would keep him safe from the watchful eyes of that face in the sky.
Toto began to run through the sleeping stones of the city. He didn’t get lost. As frightened as he was, his hunter’s instincts did not abandon him this time.
He came upon Arrow Wind, and for a moment, tears rose in his eyes, and he stopped. Toto stroked the horse’s rigid mane with one hand and hugged his back. I’m sorry. I never should have brought you here. And now I have to leave you all alone.
“But I’ll come back for you someday, I promise.”
With that whispered oath, Toto made for the city gates.
He was out of the cursed city. Toto ran to the foot of the Forbidden Mountains without stopping. His breath was ragged, his chest ached, and his muscles screamed with exhaustion, but he did not rest. If he didn’t run now, he would be too late.
In Toto’s arms, the book glowed.
As he began to climb, the moon showed its face on the far side of the forest. It was as if it had waited for him to find the shelter of the trees.
Under the moonlight, the book glowed even brighter. It seemed to Toto then that, by some means beyond his comprehension, the moonlight and the book’s light were smiling at each other.
It was only a little farther to the pass. Not even the best hunters in the village could run like this. But Toto ran and ran faster, as though his very feet were enchanted.
[6]
THE ELDER AWOKE feeling even more exhausted after a night of fitful sleep than he had when he lay down the evening before. His eyes opened at the first shout at his door.
“Elder! We found him! We found Toto!”
He sat up and bade the man come in. The face of one of the older hunters appeared in his doorway. “They’re bringing him in now.”
A search party who had gone out at dawn had discovered Toto lying in a field.
“How is he?”
“Too weak to talk. But his eyes are open, and he can hear us.”
The elder quickly dressed and went outside to see a commotion at the village entrance. The search party had returned, carrying Toto between them on a wide wooden board. Oneh ran out from the back, but the elder waved her away. “To the weaving room, now.”
“But—”
“You are to do nothing but weave the Mark. I demand it.”
Oneh’s thin shoulders drooped and she withdrew.
The elder hurried to Toto’s house. Toto’s father was a hunter and a craftsman besides, skilled at making the implements needed for the hunt. He was not a man to be easily alarmed, but his face was pale and rigid as he watched the others carry his son through the door. The elder guessed that the woman he could hear wailing from inside the cottage was Toto’s mother.
“Have you called the physician?” he asked one of the men standing there.
“We sent a man on Silverstar to fetch him, Elder.”
Inside, the men carrying Toto lifted him gently onto his bed. His father stroked Tot
o’s hair and his mother hugged him, still weeping, while his little brother and sister pushed their way through the small crowd of men, crying and calling out Toto’s name.
Toto’s eyelids fluttered, and the elder saw his lips move, but there was no sound. Though he was covered with dust and scratches, he appeared to have been spared any serious injuries. His legs lay limp across the bed and his arms were clutched tightly across his chest.
The elder noticed that Toto was holding something. He took a breath, and in a loud, clear voice, announced, “Everyone, thank you for bringing Toto back to us safely. This is a time for all to rejoice. However, I must ask that, for a moment, you leave me alone with the boy. There’s something very important I must discuss with him.”
Most of the men hadn’t even realized the elder was there among them until he spoke. Quickly, they stepped away so that he might reach the boy, but Toto’s parents would not leave the boy’s side.
“I’m sorry,” the elder apologized to them, “but my duties require that I speak with Toto alone.” The elder looked at each of their faces in turn. “The physician will be here shortly. I need only a moment’s time before he arrives.”
The fate of our village might very well depend upon it, he thought.
Finally, they seemed to understand. Toto’s father gently touched his wife’s shoulder and they stood. Tears streaming down her face, his mother rubbed Toto’s head and cheek before she left.
Once everyone had gone, the elder gathered up his robes and hurried over to Toto’s bedside where he knelt.
“Toto. Do you know who I am?”
Toto’s head nodded slightly.
“Can you speak?”
The boy’s dried, cracked lips parted. “E-Elder…”
The elder placed a hand on Toto’s forehead. It was as damp and cold as clay never touched by the sun. He rubbed the boy’s skin and his hand came away covered with a fine gray dust. The feeling of it between his fingers sent a shiver up the elder’s spine, and he recalled what he had seen from the pass in the Forbidden Mountains.
The elder touched a hand to Toto’s arm and then to his legs. Everywhere he touched felt cold, and everywhere was covered by the same ashen dust. His clothes were infused with the smell of the stone city.
ICO: Castle in the Mist Page 5