Keren scrambled backwards as the Necrow’s body wriggled and writhed, an uncanny simulacrum of life creating itself from the earth. And yet, once its wounds were closed and all its limbs rejoined, Keren could not cease to see it as the broken doll it had been, laid open upon the rocks.
Its labored breathing finally ceased. Slowly Akar sat up, flexing its arms, testing the joints in its legs. If Keren had not already witnessed the many other bizarre things the Necrow could do, she might have gone insane on the spot.
“How…how…”
Akar looked around at her. “Are you hurt? Great effort was made to break your fall, with the consideration that your body would take much longer to heal than this one.”
“How did you do that?!”
“This body was kept between yours and the ground in order to provide a softer landing –”
“No! I mean, how did you…suck the life out of everything and piece yourself back together?”
The Necrow grimaced. “It is not pleasant for humans to learn the details of that phenomenon.”
“Then why didn’t you die when your body fell apart?”
“The Necrow cannot die, unless they themselves wish it.”
“What? That’s ridiculous! I’ve seen a Necrow die! You aren’t immortal!”
“On the contrary, as long as there is sufficient life-force nearby to repair oneself, a Necrow may persist indefinitely,” Akar said. “This body of ash is itself interminable. The Necrow you saw perish – assuming your eyes were not deceived – was simply having a bad day, so to speak.”
“A bad day?!”
“It was caught off guard at a time when its will to live was exceptionally weak. Do not expect to be so lucky if you intend to confront other Necrow in the future. Most of them are quite determined to live, out of devotion to Belshazzar if nothing else.”
Keren swallowed. This revelation was vastly more unnerving than it should be. She already knew the Necrow could kill her friends, crush her mind, and drive her mad…but she’d always found some comfort in the belief that, if she was only crafty and wily enough, some opportunity could be found to stick a blade through the Necrow’s ribs when it wasn’t looking. Now it was telling her even that wouldn’t work?!
“You…” she breathed, “when we first fled Belshazzar’s fortress…you were shot and, and you said you needed time to heal –”
“It took time to extract life from the trees, yes. Their dormant state, combined with their proximity to the keep where the brethren so often passed, made the process tedious. Furthermore…”
“What?”
“It was thought you might be more amenable to reason, after a few hours of rest.” The Necrow stood and shook out its robes, then stooped and rummaged around in the rubble. After a moment it straightened, the whittled staff in one hand. Carefully it felt along the length of wood to check for evidence of damage.
Keren realized something. “Can you…absorb the life from humans as well?”
Akar hesitated, as if reluctant to answer. “Yes.”
“Earlier, when you said that you needed a long-range weapon because anything that got close to you had no chance of winning…did you mean you could just…suck the life out of them?”
“Yes.”
A shudder ran through Keren’s body. Maybe she was just cold. No, it’s just a doll. A lump of clay carved to look like a human being –
“Clay, ash, blood and bone, to be precise,” Akar said.
“What?”
“Those are the ingredients which Belshazzar brews in his Well to make us. The Necrow are not just walking clods of earth, but are far more complex. Any human child can carve a figurine from clay. Do they also know how to bring that figurine to life?”
Keren sighed. “No. I suppose you and your kind are as mysterious as you always were. Just…spookier than you were before. ”
“Are you not already used to being ‘spooked’?” the Necrow asked. There was almost a touch of humor in its voice.
Keren smiled faintly. “I suppose I am. I gave myself up for dead a long time ago. Now it’s just enough to know I get to live another day.” Well, that and the fact I’m probably going to Hell for rejecting my ancestors’ beliefs. So really, hanging out with some undead spirit-thing doesn’t have all that much impact on my already-damned soul. This made Keren shudder again – the thought that the reason she continued to put up with the Necrow was because she was really in the same boat, and just didn’t want to admit it.
Akar began to search for a way around the collapsed slope. Keren followed, her boots slipping and sinking in the freshly churned mud. It took them several hours to circumvent the ridge. Akar found the horse again (by telepathy, Keren assumed, now that she knew it could touch a beast’s mind as easily as a man’s), and they passed back into the shelter of the trees.
Dusk fell soon; a blazing symphony of light in the west. The peaks of the high mountains – those which allegedly cradled the Lake of Izanami – now loomed larger than ever. Their shadows fell long across the ancient forest, which whispered secrets to itself as the cicadas fell into slumber and the night-creatures came alive.
Again Keren holed herself away in a makeshift lean-to, listening in fascination to the sounds of the untamed realm, comforted only by the thought of her immortal protector standing guard outside the entrance. She may have slept soundly that night, had not the curse of the Sacred Beast continued to shiver restlessly inside her heart.
CHAPTER 11
HEART-BEARER
They came upon the village of Reihai in mid-afternoon on the third day.
The settlement rested in a small valley in the crook of the mountains, safeguarding one of the few passes accessible by men to the upper peaks. Waterfalls half a mile high plummeted from the cliffs to either side, casting a curtain of mist across the vale. The village was not walled, and rose up the side of the valley in several tiers. The houses were fashioned from stone which blended with the surrounding cliffs. Elegant shingled roofs adorned each building, their curling eaves hung with lanterns. On the highest tier was a grand old building that looked to be a manse, or possibly a temple.
Keren and Akar emerged from the cover of the forest and traipsed across the fertile valley fields, which were sown with the plants that bore the starchy white grain.
Keren marveled at the settlement as they approached. Far from being the besieged stronghold she was expecting, the upkeep and general sprawl of the buildings spoke of more wealth than the people of Shinrin enjoyed.
A handful of workers were out tending the fields at that later hour. Keren approached ahead of Akar, calling out fair greetings as before. The men in the field looked up and regarded her with suspicion. One held up his hoe in warning.
“Who are you, foreigner, that you dress in our garb and trespass on our land unannounced?”
Keren pulled up on the reins, startled. “I was given this robe as a guest-gift by the people of Shinrin! I thought foreigners were welcome here?”
“We are the guardians of the passage to Iru Mori’s sacred birthplace. Why would we be welcoming to foreigners?” the man scoffed. “Unless you come to offer yourself as a gift to the lords and masters of the village!” He stepped forward menacingly, reaching up to grab the bridle of the horse.
Keren backpedaled quickly, brandishing her knife. “I offer myself as a gift to no one! If you will not give us welcome, then let us pass on in peace!”
“That is not possible. No one who has not been approved – especially one of alien blood – is allowed passage into the forbidden highlands. You insult us by coming here with such a foolish request. Did you somehow pass through the forest alone, or are there others with you?”
“There is another.” Akar stepped up beside her, one hand on its sword. Its hood was thrown back, making its necrotic flesh plain for all to see. The men drew back in surprise, and Keren felt a smug swelling of satisfaction. Let’s see how they liked it when a Necrow was on her side –
But the loo
k on the villagers’ faces was not the same as those from Shinrin. There was fear, yes, but also something more. The men sank to their knees and bowed until their heads touched the ground. The leader lifted his head, but still did not look higher than Akar’s feet. “Great lord, we were not expecting this honored visitation!”
Akar looked solemnly at the kneeling men. Although it felt no emotion, Keren still liked to entertain the idea that it was as surprised as she was. It was silent for several moments. Then: “It does not please me to be met with such inhospitality from so noble a village.”
“Lord, had we known the girl was with you, we would have given her instant welcome! We beg you to forgive our oversight.”
“Mercy has been granted to you. Do not expect it a second time.”
“Much gratitude, Lord! May we escort you to the temple? Much wealth and time was spent making other Lords welcome just the other day, but surely there will be some meat and gold remaining for your pleasure –”
“Grand feasts and ceremonies are not expected on our behalf. Only answers for myself, and food and drink for my companion. ”
“Of course, sir. If you would follow us…” the men all rose, bowed again, and proceeded towards the village.
The one who had spoken rudely to Keren bowed to her as well as he took the bridle of her horse to lead. “Apologies, miss. We did not know you were one of the heart-bearers of the yokai.”
Keren gaped at him. They think I’m some yokai’s servant! She glanced at Akar, who strode along imperturbably beside her. Are you manipulating them? What on earth is going on?
It seems these people have great reverence for the spirits that roam the mountains, the Necrow mused. And they appear to have mistaken me for one of those spirits. They did not lie when they used the term ‘lord’. And why else would a human choose to travel with a yokai, other than to serve it?
Keren couldn’t argue with that. Perhaps ‘heart-bearer’ was the title of a high station. Being the assistant of a lord of spirits must surely have its benefits! At least they hadn’t been branded as vagabonds and chased away – Keren didn’t think she’d have the heart to ask Akar to mind-crush these people.
The men led them into the village of Reihai. Its walkways were elegantly paved with finely-placed cobblestones, its yards planted with gnarled hundred-year-old fruit trees. There was also a tree that was utterly unfamiliar: one adorned entirely with pink blossoms. The slightest breath of wind would pluck handfuls of the petals and bear them off in clouds of twirling dancers.
“What is that tree?” she blurted out.
“That is Sakura, the cherry blossom tree,” the man replied. “It is said to be the joy of the goddess. How do you not know this?”
“I, uh…was picked up by the yokai from a, um, very ignorant village,” Keren stammered. “It was a very depressing place; no cherry blossoms there!”
The man only grunted in reply.
Keren turned her attention to the villagers. These people seemed, for all intents and purposes, exactly like those she had met in Shinrin. Their dress, their tools, their food, and their customs were all very similar. They were the same short, dark-haired people of the mountains, lithe and wiry from a lifetime of labor. Yet, the look in their eyes – dark and unfathomable, it was, but not the same. There was wariness, yes, but not the determination those of Shinrin had borne.
The eyes of these people flickered with fear. Not just any fear, but capitulation. They were in thrall to something that terrified them, something they fawned upon as slaves groveled at the feet of a master.
Though Keren could look most of the men in the eye (even had she not been on horseback), Akar towered over them all. All those who saw the Necrow moved swiftly aside, bowing furiously, their awe barely concealed. Akar, of course, was above it all, striding with utter indifference through the throng.
They moved up the tiers until they reached the tallest building – a shrine, Keren guessed. Its doorway was hung with silk and framed on either side by a great bronze bell. The building was painted red and gold, shining like a beacon over the village. Directly behind it reared the mountain cliffs, huge and foreboding. The distant roar of waterfalls filled the solemn air.
The men took the horse aside and gestured for Akar and Keren to enter the temple. The space within was even more brilliant than without: great red lanterns hung from golden pillars, dangling long yellow tassels. Statues of jade lined the walls, and at the far end of the hall were two great bronze gongs. There were several wooden dividers stretched with paper, painted with fantastical scenes of mountains, clouds, and strange beasts with many eyes and limbs.
The hanshi of the village sat meditating on great purple cushions. They did not open their eyes at first. Keren felt the familiar gesture of Akar’s mental presence, and the men’s eyes snapped open. They stared at the newcomers in alarm, their ancient jowls hanging open. Keren barely stifled a laugh.
“We come in peace, hanshi of Reihai,” Akar said. “We desire one night’s hospitality before traveling onward to the mountain pass.”
The old men’s postures relaxed somewhat. “Great lord, we were not expecting you! On what business do you come to us?”
“No business. Although some information would be welcome. We have been long away from Iru Mori, seeking hearts in distant lands. News would be welcome of what goes on here of late.”
The hanshi looked at one-another in surprise. Apparently this wasn’t a request the yokai usually made. Keren supposed the monsters liked to swoop in, gorge themselves on food and fear, and take off without bothering with small talk.
One of the men summoned a servant to bring them food and drink. Others brought out a low table on which to eat, and placed cushions for Akar and Keren to seat themselves.
Once they had been settled, the hanshi began their tale.
“There has been unrest in the high mountains of late. A man from one of the clans made a shameful attempt on the Goddess’ life, and now the great spirits have fallen into turmoil. The winds ride lower than ever before, listening for any hint of treason. Imps and goblins stalk the night, rifling through our belongings for weapons or incriminating evidence. We tell the yokai’s messengers that the people of Reihai are pure, but they do not easily trust the fickle hearts of men.”
Keren butted in: “What is this goddess you’re talking about? The last village we visited mentioned only a queen, and spoke of the gods as distant beings who rarely interfered in men’s affairs.”
One of the hanshi chuckled nervously. “You must be referring to one of the border clans. They are all heretics; so far from the heart of the forest, dabbling with the outside world. It is no surprise they entertain such profane beliefs. The illustrious Amaterasu is not just a queen – she is a goddess!”
“The Goddess of the Sun. The highest of the deities,” another hanshi said. “Her domain upon the surface of the Lake of Izanami perfectly reflects the sun as it passes across the sky! Her throne rests where heaven and earth meet. So it has been proclaimed throughout the ages. There are many clans which chafe beneath her rule, and seek to undermine her authority by claiming she is no more than a common yokai. This is blasphemy! It is an attempt on behalf of man’s pride to glorify himself by defiling what is most sacred!”
Keren recoiled from the ferocity of the man’s testimony. “Oh. That’s…interesting…”
“What of the kami?” Akar asked suddenly. “Will they not set the malevolence in men’s hearts to rights?”
The hanshi bowed and nodded at this. “Yes, yes, that is what we pray for. The heretical clans on the borders claim that Amaterasu has not been given divine sanction to rule by the Kirin, thus her reign is unjust. The Kirin is the most noble of the kami, and of course must bestow its favor on any earthly ruler in order for them to prosper. But we, who are among the loyal, know that a goddess needs no sanction from the kami, as it was she who first created them!”
Akar nodded, saying: “The goddess has ruled since the beginning of the world.
Her reign cannot be questioned or usurped.”
All of them nodded enthusiastically. “That is correct! It is the way of the world that men should serve the gods.”
“Can a man kill a god?” the Necrow asked.
The hanshi’s faces paled. “Why do you ask this?”
“It is merely a question of curiosity. Does a god have a physical form? If so, can a man kill it by destroying that form?”
The old men huddled together for a long moment, muttering amongst themselves. Keren eyed Akar with curiosity. What was the Necrow thinking?
The hanshi debated for some time, occasionally stealing nervous glances over their shoulders towards Akar. Keren found their anxiety almost amusing. It wasn’t like the Necrow was actually going to exact vengeance upon them for giving an imperfect answer!
At last the men finished their talk.
Each hanshi spoke in turn: “It has been written since ancient times that the gods are spirits incarnate from the world itself – that is, conscious minds manifested from physical forces. Their power is absolute in the domain where their authority lies.”
“Amaterasu is the avatar of the sun both above and below the earth. Thus she has dominion over all life. While the sun is in the sky, she sees and knows all. Even while the sun is set, her lesser servants roam the night and do her bidding.”
“Her essence is immaterial, but resides in a body so that she may dictate her will to man and yokai.”
“In theory, by killing her body, her spirit would have no anchor on the earth, and her power would diminish to the sphere of the heavens.”
“We believe this is what the blasphemer attempts to do. However, Amaterasu’s physical form is defended by all the powers of heaven and earth; none who rise against her can hope to be victorious!”
Akar tapped a finger thoughtfully on one knee. “One who has power over all the earth…yes. It would not be beneficial if this man were to succeed at his goal. Amaterasu must be defended,” for the time being. “Are there any others who have shown unrest with their divine ruler?”
Necrosis (The Omens of Gaia Book 1) Page 14