Necrosis (The Omens of Gaia Book 1)

by H. C. Damrosch

The archer licked his lips, and found that his tongue was dry. “What is virtue, then?”

  “Why, virtue is that which the gods approve of, silly man! What else could it be?”

  “Virtue is what a man’s heart prizes most. The thing he chooses to protect.”

  “Ah, but then virtue cannot be the same for every man, for every heart desires something different!”

  “That is true,” Irumi replied. “Yet it does not change the fact that those desires exist. What one’s heart desires needs no other reason for being.”

  The queen smiled hungrily at him. “That is exactly what I wished to hear, champion.”

  Irumi tried to release the arrow, but his arms no longer had feeling in them. His muscles spasmed, and the weapon dropped to the ground with a clatter. He tried to draw the dagger at his waist, but his fingers had lost their dexterity.

  Then the goddess’ arms were around his neck. Warm lips pressed against his, drawing forth life in a passionate struggle. Slim fingers caressed his cheek. Her hair smelled of sweet ambrosia. Irumi did not resist as she bore him to the floor. Sweet whisperings enveloped his senses as her body entwined with his.

  The goddess took the archer, and as he embraced her, the floor beneath them faded like mist. The mirror-like tiles swirled with storm clouds that stretched down, down to the center of the earth. Irumi looked into the eye of the storm, and in its depths gleamed a light purer than any he had ever seen. Rather than blinding him, the light aroused such feelings of longing that he could hardly stand it.

  Amaterasu pulled back, and Irumi gasped at the fathomless abyss in her eyes. “Beneath our bodies dwells limitless power, hero. I am its guardian. Men seek to rob my power from me, for no other reason than that they envy my authority. Does that sound like virtue to you? Do men have the right to anything, if only they desire it enough?”

  Irumi’s loins seethed, thrusting boiling blood through his limbs. He was on fire, his flesh igniting at the lightest touch. He seized handfuls of the woman’s silken garment and ripped the fabric from her body. “Of course! Man’s desire is his virtue; his only vice is the unwillingness to act upon what he yearns for!”

  “Which do you desire more?” Amaterasu gasped as Irumi embraced her, “My life, or the power to shape your own destiny? I well know you came here to kill me. What if you could gain even more than what you came for?”

  Irumi was short of breath. The scent of this woman was intoxicating…! Abruptly he remembered Tsune, and guiltily pushed the thought away. There was only the whisper of flesh, the throbbing of blood in his ears. The archer growled as he clasped the goddess’ body to him.

  Irumi thought again of his beloved; then he could think no more. His whole body shuddered in glorious release…

  Amaterasu screamed, seizing him in a flurry of limbs. Irumi cried out as he felt himself bound and immobilized. A multitude of tails coiled about his body. Creamy white they were, and thickly furred: the tails of a fox.

  Amaterasu crowed in triumph. “How your passion burns, hero! I crave the salty zest of your leaping heart! You claim desire is your strength, yet it is the most salivating of morsels which tempts my kind!” The mask atop her head throbbed with fey light: sly muzzle, pointed ears, taunting him.

  Irumi struggled, but could not render more than a moan. His lungs withered as his chest was squeezed in a vice. The Fox Queen licked the archer’s face and laughed at the terror in his eyes.

  “You see, we are in agreement, young man. I say virtue is that which the gods approve of; you say it is that which the hearts of men desire! In the end I, a goddess, approve to feast upon those passions which your heart harbors. Thus virtue consumes virtue, and the two become one! Just as your body shall become one with mine: first as my mate, then as my repast!”

  Damn her…Irumi would have fought for his life, if only he could breathe. The fox had seized him in his weakest moment, when his body had spent itself in its exuberant passion. The last thing he saw was Amaterasu’s blood-red lips reaching up to kiss him…

  The Fox Queen laid her assailant to rest on the cool tiles. Her seven vulpine tails writhed in anticipation as they caressed their prize. She stroked the archer’s still face tenderly as she murmured, “Do not fret, little human. Many hours of ecstasy will be yours before I finally consume you. An amusing thing, man’s heart: even as it contemplates its doom, still it can be aroused to the greatest of heights! Such sweet succulence to taste, over and over again!

  “And if you ever fall into despair, all I must do is tempt you with the sight of power you can never have. How sad, how predictable! Men are so tragically entertaining…”

  §

  Keren woke at first light the next morning. Her thoughts stirred restlessly from slumber – the fluttering of wings and the maniacal laugh of a yokai echoing in her mind. What a strange dream…

  She rose from the pallet in the small room at the back of the temple, carefully folding the mattress and donning her freshly-washed robe. The beautiful fabric would forever carry some faint stain from her adventures in the forest. There was purity in it, however: its innocent beauty a protection against the vile impulses of the men who had corrupted this place.

  Keren couldn’t wait to leave. She hurried out of the room and stole through the silent temple. Akar was in the front hall, kneeling before a polished table set with breakfast fare. It had not touched the food, so Keren helped herself, hiding what she could not eat in the pockets of her robe.

  “You realize they will have replenished the items in our saddlebags.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean a girl shouldn’t take what she can get! We’re heading into hostile territory; who knows when I’ll get another chance to eat food this good!”

  They left the village without fanfare. The hanshi watched them from the shadows of the houses along the street, their faces bowed and expressionless. Keren figured they must be eager to get back to their posts at the temple and continue to set an example of virtue with their hallowed meditations. Perhaps they’d fervently collect all the items Akar had touched and make them into objects of worship, kissing and fondling them like lovers. Perhaps – Keren’s heart throbbed; the kami’s curse a stern rebuke at her ungracious thoughts.

  Perhaps it would be best not to think at all.

  They followed a path which wound upwards through narrow chasms, carved from the rock by generations long past. Tiny streams crossed the path from time to time, bearing cloaks of vibrant mosses on their shoulders. Little flowers grew along the path also, their buds barely open against the encroaching day.

  The trees grew smaller the higher they climbed, and yet were just as old; merely twisted and knotted about themselves with age as if, unable to grow any higher, they had paced and turned about themselves for centuries.

  The peaks were awash with the somber morning, breathing mist that seized the breath from Keren’s lungs, so cold was it, and damp. She prayed the sun would bring warmth once they drug themselves out of this nook of a valley. So she walked on her own two feet for a time, trying to warm her limbs with the steep climb.

  It would not have been wise to ride the horse anyway; the path was narrow and the sides fell away abruptly to the valley below. Often when they turned a corner on the switchbacks the horse’s hooves would scrabble on the rocks, sending tiny stones bounding off the edge. Keren listened for the silence between each rebound. That was a long way to fall…

  “A second yokai visited during the night,” Akar said.

  Keren was pleasantly surprised; the Necrow was actually volunteering information! “Did it now? I thought my dreams were rather strange. What did it say?”

  “It came only to boast of its master’s power. It also insinuated that an ill fate befell the young man who attacked the queen.”

  Keren sighed. “I suppose that’s to be expected. I was afraid to hope that a young hero succeeded against such a vast evil all alone. It would be foolish to think he’s still alive, wouldn’t it? Although, one should always hope…
”

  She thought of Tsune, bravely waiting alone in the garden, believing in the future her betrothed had promised her. This Irumi was just like her Asher, that brave man who had managed to spear even a Necrow through the heart…before he was killed, and his once-beautiful body left to rot beneath the sun.

  Keren realized she was crying, and angrily dashed the tears away. “If she’s there…whatever she is, be it goddess or monster…you’ll kill her, won’t you Akar? The Necrow can kill anything, can’t they?”

  Akar hesitated, its feet slowing just a bit as they picked their way across the rocky ground. “No. Not anything. There are things – things I have seen. Things for which death appears to be only a distant foreign country, observed but never experienced. A Necrow could not even stand to touch such a thing, let alone steal the life from it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  The Necrow turned its sightless head towards her, cracking open a single ghostly eye. “I speak of whatever it was that protected you, those many days ago in the forest. The marks it left behind glowed with the light of another world.”

  Keren stared at it, and for the first time she was more fascinated than repulsed by its uncanny gaze. “You could see something on the ground! That’s what you were staring at. You knew –”

  “Would you care to relate what made those marks?” the Necrow asked. “Or did it say its existence must be kept secret?”

  “No! I – I didn’t want to talk about it. It was disturbing to me. More disturbing than the undead, in a way. Different, just like what you said…” she fell silent for several moments, her heart clenched. It did feel like a secret. It did. But then – it was her secret, not the kami’s. It was shame that prevented her from speaking, not honor.

  When Keren realized she was ashamed, she became embarrassed. What exactly did she have to feel ashamed of in front of this creature?!

  “It was a kami. A beast that looked like – well, I actually don’t know, since it was too bright to see. It looked sort of like a deer, with a long tail and a single antler. It moved through the forest like a spirit, and it scorched the yokai with lightning out of nowhere!”

  “Ah…” Akar breathed. “So there is truth in the stories these people tell. More truth, perhaps, than even they give credence to. The power that creature wielded was different from the yokai. Men understand neither, yet still they discern a difference between the two. Did it speak to you?”

  “No. It made a sound, like a bell. It wasn’t a natural sound…but then, nothing was natural about that thing. I felt it inside of me, where the yokai was. It chased the yokai away, and then it left. That’s all.”

  The Necrow nodded and tucked its eye away.

  After several hours they reached the top of the valley, and Keren’s heart sank when she saw their journey was only just beginning. There were peaks higher still in the distance beyond the plateau, so high they breached the belly of the clouds. Their true height was concealed by a shroud of impenetrable mist.

  “If I’d only known how much effort this was going to take…” Keren muttered.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, if I knew how much effort this was going to take, I wouldn’t have agreed to take the detour to this stupid lake!” Keren screeched.

  “It has only been half a day –”

  “And look how much farther we have to go! This is going to be exhausting!”

  “Then get on the horse. The footing should be relatively safe, for now.” The Necrow knelt and laid its fingers upon the carved steps in the stone. It had never done something like that before. Keren wondered if its ethereal sense of things was becoming disoriented. Perhaps it had to anchor its inner sight through some kind of physical touch, if it could see through wood and stone and the earth itself. Perhaps the ‘energy’ it saw was more distorted up here.

  Keren looked around the plateau. Although the land was still abnormally fertile, the high altitude did have some say over what grew here. The trees were dwarfish, interspersed with rugged bushes and brilliant wildflowers. High grass still grew, as green and ripe as in the lowlands, and where it did not grow the ground was carpeted with lush moss. The mosses were blooming with tiny pink flowers, and the grasses fuzzy with seed-pods. Thin as the air was, it carried the gentle scents of wild perfume.

  The path meandered across the landscape, marked by occasional piles of rocks. The way may have been as old as the land, carved and delineated by Iru Mori’s first human ancestors. There were the remains of dilapidated shrines to either side of the trail; the timbers were rotten, but the curling rooftops still stood proudly. Perhaps the ancestors had led processions up this ancient path, to the very foot of the peaks where the legendary lake resided.

  The eastern sun was halfway up their back. Keren felt as if they stood upon the very roof of the world. Not just the roof, but the very edge of the world’s eaves – behind them the cliffs dropped sheer away, and only the surface of the clouds could be seen over the forests of Iru Mori. It was beautiful, majestic; aloof with power.

  She turned and noticed a finger of smoke rising in the sky a few miles to the southwest. “Akar, would you expect to find human settlements up here? Judging from the state of these shrines, I’d guess no one’s lived on these highlands for quite some time. Maybe the other rebels are camped there, like the hanshi said?”

  “These eyes are not acute enough to see over such distance. If there is some sign of human habitation, it would be best to seek it out.”

  “Agreed.” Keren hopped onto the horse and left the path, trotting southwest. She hoped with some misgiving that it was the rebel camp; strength in numbers would feel good right about now, with the yokai stronghold only a few miles away. Necrow or no Necrow, Keren wanted to find some actual people who knew what they were doing.

  She arrived at the camp in less than half an hour. A score of men milled about a small rise. They were dressed in the same simple robes as the villagers, but all wore wooden armor over their silk, with an assortment of swords at their sides. The smoke had come from a hasty campfire which the men were just now putting out. They moved quietly, efficiently, with the same intensity of expression Keren had witnessed in the people of Shinrin.

  Keren was almost afraid to approach them, for she knew already what their reaction towards her would be.

  “Foreigner…!” All the men dropped what they were doing and took up battle stances. A half-dozen approached Keren warily, each with a hand resting on the hilts of their swords.

  Then they saw Akar. Instantly the half-dozen drew their weapons and circled them, cutting off all avenues of escape. Keren froze on the horse, afraid to so much as twitch in what might be seen as an offensive gesture. These men thought Akar was a yokai, and she its heart-bearer. That was not good, not good, not good –

  “People of Iru Mori!” Akar declared, “Foreigners we may be, but we are not your enemies. We have traveled far to join your cause.”

  The lips of the nearest warrior curled. “Ha! Your lies are as rank as bad cheese. We know what you are, and you can either die swiftly and save us the time, or messily and suffer much pain. Which will it be, yokai?”

  Akar stepped towards the man, flinging off its black cloak. Beneath it wore only simple leather armor and the sword at its side. “On the contrary, you mistake me grossly for something I am not. All who see me assume I am one of the inhuman creatures of the night. They refuse to believe that I was merely unfortunate enough to fall victim to a yokai’s curse. I beg you not to make such a terrible mistake. Search me; you will see I carry no mask.”

  The warrior’s eyes narrowed. He seemed ready to skewer Akar and be done with it. Then he glanced at his fellows, and perhaps thought there was no harm in being certain. So he sheathed his sword and drew his knife. The first thing he did was sever the Necrow’s sword from its belt and toss it aside. Then the man held his knife to Akar’s throat and felt all over the Necrow’s body.

  Finally he stepped back and eyed the
Necrow peculiarly. “You do not have a yokai’s mask. And yet you are unlike any man I’ve ever seen, cursed or not!”

  “It baffles me as well,” Akar said. “The demon ate my heart, and then cursed me with a spell of undeath. I have no idea how I still walk or speak. Yet one desire remains in me: to kill the sovereign of the yokai, and bring misery upon all its kind!”

  The man nodded. “It is so. You may join our party, for it seems you have nothing to lose. What of her?” He pointed at Keren.

  Before she could open her mouth, Akar said: “She is my only sister, whom our parents chose to sacrifice as a gift to the yokai when she displeased them. I rescued her from that cruel fate, but she has no home to return to and wishes to join me as I meet my fate with honor.”

  The man eyed Keren doubtfully. “Perhaps, if she wishes to give aid, she could serve as a distraction while we assault the fortress…”

  “I would follow my brother anywhere!” Keren proclaimed haughtily. “I would throw myself into the very jaws of the beast, if it meant he could strike the killing blow and reclaim his honor!”

  The warriors seemed impressed by this, though they were good at keeping their faces impassive. “Good enough,” said another. “Let them come. They know already what a fool’s errand this may turn out to be, and we need all the bodies we can get.”

  The man who had searched Akar nodded agreement, though he seemed to think this would be more than just a ‘fool’s errand’. The others sheathed their weapons and returned to camp, relating quickly to their comrades what had transpired. Keren and Akar waited at a distance while they made ready.

  What do masks have to do with anything? Keren asked.

  A mask is a yokai’s center of being, Akar replied. All of them carry one. It is the part of them that remains constant whenever they undergo their shape-shifting.

  Ah. And why are you so good at lying? I had no idea you could just make up stories out of thin air!

  It is simple enough to lie, provided one has an active imagination and is not hindered by that feeling called ‘guilt’.