The Beast Warrior

by Nahoko Uehashi

  Elin felt as if her chest and throat were being gripped by a vice. Struggling to breathe, she stared at Shunan. He took a step closer and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “I owe you so much. If I could, I would not ask you to do this. I’m sure you feel trapped within a cage and forced to do what goes against your will. But for me, this is not about what I want to do, but what I must do.” His face twisted slightly. “And Her Majesty, the Yojeh, has resolved to sully her own hands, also.”

  Elin looked at him in surprise. For the first time, she considered what developing a Royal Beast corps would mean for Seimiya. The Yojeh, who for centuries had kept herself pure and stainless, was about to engage in war.

  “Is there anyone in this world who is truly free?” Shunan said. His face was only a vague shadow, but his eyes gleamed with a sad light.

  “My men are searching for Ialu and Jesse. No matter how fleet-footed Ialu may be, he can’t get far with a child. I’ve warned my men not to hurt them. It won’t be long before you’re reunited.”

  The weight of his hand on her shoulder lifted. Shunan turned toward the door, and Yohalu quickly strode over and opened it. Even after the heavy door shut behind them, Elin remained standing, rooted to the spot.

  7

  DAWN BIRD

  The night wore on, yet Elin still sat by the window, staring outside at nothing while her supper grew cold on the side table by the fireplace. No lamp burned in the room, and it was brighter outside, where the clouds had broken and stars twinkled against the ink-black sky.

  “I’m thinking of inlaying it with mother-of-pearl.” In her mind, she heard the words Ialu had said when spring was still young. “That will look nice on a small, lacquered cabinet like this. Not big pieces, mind you, but small, like stars scattered across the surface. But mother-of-pearl is expensive.”

  He had still been picking out the wood to build it. Had he finished it? Or had he been forced to leave it half done?

  Elin grimaced. So it’s finally crumbled. The quiet life they’d built together on that thin layer of ice.

  Where are they now? She could almost see Jesse’s frightened face. Had Ialu taken the satchel they’d prepared for such a day? Where were they headed under this dark sky?

  “Let’s be prepared to run when the day comes.” The words Ialu had whispered in her ear came back to her now. He had been holding their newborn son, Jesse, in his arms. “Let’s give this child a new life,” he had said. “No matter where we run to, it will be better than living trapped in the cage of our past.”

  Does he know?

  He must have realized why they had attacked him. He had run because he had guessed what would come next. But even if he managed to elude the soldiers, there would be no end to this flight. If he and Jesse were caught and their family reunited, they would be forever trapped within this cage.

  And the Beasts—Leelan, Alu, all of them—would be flown into battle, devouring men and Toda, captive until the day they died.

  Elin pictured a distant sky, wide and wind-swept.

  There was only one way to free them from this cage. She pressed her head against the cold window frame and gazed absently out the window. It was wide open. Through the branches, she glimpsed the flickering of campfires and the figures of soldiers on guard among the trees.

  Far below her lay the ground. She stared at the dark earth, drawn to it like the depths of a pool.

  “Elin.”

  Hearing her name, she searched for the source. At the foot of a mighty tree that stretched its thick branches up to her window, she saw a shadow.

  “Rolan?” she murmured. When had he come? She saw him wave.

  “I got permission from the soldiers,” he called up. “The maidservants insisted that I couldn’t go into your room. But if I stand here talking, I’m going to get a stiff neck.”

  Reaching up, he grasped a branch and began to climb, his lakkalu slung over his back. As Elin watched, Rolan shimmied up the trunk and swung his legs over the large branch that led to her window. He grinned. “That’s better,” he said. “Much closer.”

  Elin frowned. “That’s dangerous,” she said in a hushed voice. “Can you come in?” She moved away from the window but he raised a hand and stopped her.

  “It’s no problem. I’m quite used to climbing trees and serenading young maidens through the window.” With a wink, he swung his instrument around to the front and ran a hand over the strings.

  “When did you come?”

  “The day before yesterday. I came by horse so I passed my father’s carriage along the way.” He began plucking the strings with his thumb and forefinger.

  “Why did you come?”

  He simply smiled without answering, his fingers moving faster over the strings. “The clouds have broken and the stars look magnificent. How about a few love songs?” Strumming softly, he began to sing. He played one song after another, some she knew and some she didn’t, but as those melancholy tunes rode the breeze, Elin felt the blood begin to flow again in her numb and heavy heart.

  After the fifth song, Rolan began a sixth. The first notes pierced her heart so keenly, she felt pain spread like warm water through her breast.

  Frogs chirrup in the moonlit night, he sang. In the dawn mist the bird’s song flows. Oh, how it flows, disturbing the still night. Don’t weep, dawn bird, don’t weep, for I’ll recall your voice from last night.

  A kind face rimmed by a bushy beard floated into her mind. She remembered every detail, down to the shadows of the leaves dancing along the road where she had walked beside Joeun, who was singing this song. When he realized that she didn’t know it was a love song, he burst out laughing.

  Joeun.

  One after another, distant memories slipped into her mind. Once again, she saw the beloved face and heard the voice of the man who had found and raised her. Twenty years had passed since then.

  The memory of another night she had recalled this song came back to her, along with the weight and scent of warm skin. She closed her eyes, feeling the tears slide down her cheeks.

  Before she realized it, Rolan had stopped singing. Wiping her face, she opened her eyes. He watched her, his head resting against the tree trunk.

  “Elin,” he said. “You mustn’t die.”

  Silently, she stared at him where he sat in the shadow of the branches.

  “Even if you die, it won’t change anything. You will just make your family grieve.” With that, he swung his lakkalu over his back and slithered down the trunk. Elin gazed after him as he disappeared among the trees.

  * * *

  Elin woke abruptly at dawn. Lying in bed, she stared at the ceiling, which was just a blur in the blue darkness. All sound had vanished, and silence filled her body, as though the rushing torrent that had swept her up had passed and left her floating on the water’s mirrorlike surface.

  Within that stillness, a warmth kindled and spread, reaching her fingertips.

  To alter the nature of living creatures is wrong, she thought. Her heart felt clear like a sky filled with distant, twinkling stars.

  No matter how entangled affairs became, to alter other creatures and pervert their lives was wrong. That point, and that point alone, would never change, no matter what the situation.

  Then let me defy any force that tries.

  No matter how formidable that power, no matter how enmeshed it was with the wishes of others, she must not let it bend or break her. She must not die.

  She had longed to let creatures live as they would in the wild; to share her life with the man she loved and with their son. I took all this on, prepared to accept the consequences. If so, then I must keep looking for a way to achieve it, no matter what may come.

  She closed her eyes. She saw Leelan soaring in the heavens, saw her radiating the light of the sun as she flew with Eku and the joy of their mating.

  I want to free them from the sanctuary.

  If that day should ever come, she and her family would finally be free.

 
; She opened her eyes. Something had brushed against her thoughts. What was it? Pressing her fingers to her brow, she followed the trail. The mating flight of Leelan and Eku had reminded her of something else.

  Ah! Her eyes widened. That was it. Alu, Leelan’s first cub. A white light flashed through her brain, and she sat up. Like a magnet, the first thought drew another and then another, linking all the questions in her mind.

  The world outside her window had grown brighter, and she heard birds warbling. She gazed at the morning light gilding the edges of the clouds.

  8

  SEIMIYA’S GARDEN

  The day after Elin met with Shunan, the Yojeh summoned her. The invitation was so unexpected that Elin had no time to bathe. She hastily changed into the clothes provided and headed to the palace.

  As she walked down the corridor, a door opened, and Yohalu stepped out. His brow furrowed. “Elin,” he said. “I heard that Her Majesty has summoned you.”

  When she nodded, his face grew stern. “The Aluhan left for his castle this morning and hasn’t returned.” He said nothing more, but Elin guessed it was only because the maidservant would hear. Clearly, it made him very anxious that the Yojeh had waited until the Aluhan was gone to summon her. Elin could feel his eyes boring into her back as she left the hall.

  Her feet crunched softly on the white sand that paved the road through the deep forest. After some time, she glimpsed the wooden buildings of the Yojeh’s palace through the trees. The blue roof tiles that covered the connecting passageways glinted in the sun. The servant guided Elin along these passageways, leading her deep behind the palace complex. It was very quiet, and they passed few people on their way. At length, they came to a garden bordered by a high hedge with a narrow gate. A single soldier stood before it—a Se Zan, one of the Yojeh’s bodyguards. As she walked toward the gate, Elin felt a spark of hope that it might be Ialu’s friend Kailu, but the man was a stranger.

  Passing through the gate in the hedge, Elin stepped into an inner garden bathed in soft light. Flowers bloomed in a riot of colors, emitting a sweet fragrance in the warmth of the early afternoon sun. Honeybees buzzed among the blooms, and little birds hovered, sucking nectar from yellow ivy blossoms entwined with the hedge.

  On the other side of the garden was a building, and a chair had been placed outside beneath one of its open windows. In it sat a woman, her eyes fixed blankly on the flowers. Elin halted in surprise. The woman, who now turned her head and inclined it slowly as though even that were too much effort, was the Yojeh. She looked shockingly gaunt. Her cheeks were drained of color, and her eyes were puffy. Elin couldn’t believe this was the same woman who had once reminded her of a delicate, porcelain doll. Although she had heard that the Yojeh’s third pregnancy was taking its toll, Seimiya looked far too thin.

  “Come,” Seimiya said.

  Elin jerked at the sound of her voice and blushed with the realization that she had been staring at the Yojeh. She bowed her head and walked a few steps nearer. Kneeling on the grass, she placed both hands on the ground and bowed low, feeling a twinge in her injured elbow.

  “Come closer,” the Yojeh said weakly. “It tires me to raise my voice.”

  Elin rose and came close enough to hear Seimiya even if she murmured. The maidservant brought over a small chair so Elin could sit, then bowed low and moved to a corner of the garden where she couldn’t overhear what they were saying.

  I see, Elin thought. Seimiya had summoned her here so there would be no fear of eavesdropping.

  “Raise your head, Elin.”

  She looked up to see Seimiya staring at the bandage over her ear. “They told me you’d been injured,” Seimiya said. “I see it hasn’t healed yet. Does it hurt?”

  “No, there is almost no pain now. Thank you for your concern.”

  Seimiya nodded and then said languidly, “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Is it ten years since we last met?”

  “Eleven, Your Majesty.”

  “We’ve both aged, then, haven’t we?” Seimiya said, and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly. “Although I think I’ve aged a little faster than you.”

  Elin hesitated, then asked in a small voice, “Please pardon my impertinence, but you seem very tired.”

  Seimiya’s smile deepened. “Recently, I’ve forgotten what it’s like not to be tired. Especially since I became heavy with child.” She stroked her belly. The smile faded from her face. “But never mind that. Let’s get down to business.”

  Sitting up straight, she looked Elin in the eye. “I am sure you remember the promise I once made to you. I vowed that if you saved Shunan, I would free the Royal Beasts and never use them as weapons again.”

  “Yes.”

  “I must break that promise.” Her voice cracked slightly. “To break a vow is the vilest of acts. I do not wish to do this to you, Elin. You risked your life to save Shunan. When I consider how this happened because you flew Leelan to his aid—”

  Her voice caught, and she pressed her fingers against her pale throat. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head for a moment, then drew a deep breath and raised her face. “I would never break this vow if it were just to protect my power as the Yojeh. I would rather kill myself. But I cannot let foreign hordes lay waste to our kingdom. I must protect this land no matter the cost.”

  Sunlight illumined Seimiya’s pale face. Even when careworn and thin, she retained a dignity that made her seem larger than she really was. “When Hajan threatened this kingdom,” she continued, “my ancestor chose to have Yaman Hasalu defend this land with the Toda, knowing full well that this would jeopardize the purity with which her kingdom had been ruled. But I have no intention of doing as she did. I will not make my subjects bear defilement on my behalf just so I can remain unsullied.”

  Gazing at Elin, she said, “I, the Yojeh, order you to raise up a Royal Beast corps and defend this country from invasion.”

  Elin rose from her chair and knelt on the grass. Gazing up at Seimiya, she said quietly, “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I cannot obey this command.”

  Seimiya’s face grew stern. “You think your wish is more important than the lives of the masses?”

  Elin shook her head. “No. I cannot obey because I do not know if creating a Royal Beast corps is truly best for this land. In the past—” She stopped, arrested by the look of loathing that crossed Seimiya’s face.

  The Yojeh’s lips curled, and her voice was cold. “You need not repeat that tale to me ever again. It will stay branded on my mind forever. But you also said that Royal Beasts suffer neither pain nor regret when they devour men and Toda. It is you, you told me, who suffers.”

  Elin was stunned. She had no idea Seimiya remembered her words so clearly. The Yojeh raised a slender finger and pointed it at Elin. It trembled slightly. “That’s what I’m talking about. I am asking if you would sacrifice the lives of millions just because using the Royal Beasts as weapons causes you pain.”

  “Your Majesty,” Elin began. Exposed to the unexpected disdain in Seimiya’s tone, she struggled to control her voice and subdue her urge to respond in anger. “I beg you to hear me out. Even if I were to bend my will and obey your command, I am incapable of making you a Royal Beast corps.”

  Seimiya frowned. “Incapable? Why?”

  “Because the Royal Beasts in the sanctuary do not multiply.”

  “What do you mean? Leelan has given birth to all those cubs…” Seimiya’s voice trailed off as understanding dawned in her eyes. “You mean Alu and Kalu.”

  “Yes. As you know, Alu was born while Her Majesty Halumiya was still alive. She should have matured long ago. And Kalu is now older than Leelan when she matured. Yet neither of them shows any interest in mating.”

  Seimiya’s eyes bored into Elin. “You aren’t doing anything to prevent them from maturing, are you?”

  Elin shook her head emphatically. Catching a ray of the afternoon sun, Seimiya’s light brown eyes gleamed golden. For a long moment, she gazed silently at El
in, who stood motionless, waiting.

  “No,” Seimiya said at last. “You would never do that.” Her eyes darkened, like the sun obscured by a cloud. “I suppose you’re relieved to have a good reason for refusing my command. But you do realize this could have terrible consequences for our kingdom, don’t you?”

  Elin gazed into her eyes, wondering whether she should say the words that hovered on her tongue. Seimiya seemed unstable. Her emotions rose and fell so rapidly that Elin couldn’t follow. Elin feared that if she touched the wrong nerve, Seimiya might explode. Hesitantly, Elin spoke. “Your Majesty, is there truly no other way to protect this country than to create a Royal Beast corps?”

  Seimiya brushed a lock of hair from her forehead and secured it behind her ear. Head bowed, she remained silent for a long time. “There’s no solution as failproof as this,” she said finally. A deep fatigue crossed her face. “Although I’m sure inwardly you must reproach me for sending the Royal Beasts to the battlefield,” she added.

  Her eyes burned with a fierce light as she fixed them on Elin’s. “You aren’t the only one who wishes to solve this without a fight, you know. You will never understand how much I abhor this decision, how I wish it didn’t have to be made at all.

  “To the Yojeh, war has always been an abomination. The blood of the gods may never have run in our veins, yet we still strove to live sincerely in accordance with this belief. In that regard, there was no deception on our part. And because that’s who the Yojeh was, this kingdom never took the path of a greedy aggressor. We never sought to expand our territory by invading other lands. Even though we possessed the mighty Toda.”

  Her face twisted. “Perhaps my ancestor should have tried harder to quench Oshiku Hasalu’s ambition when he sought to increase our territory. By attacking and destroying the Hajan, we took the caravan cities. As a result, our country prospered. But prosperity is a two-faced demon.