Necrosis (The Omens of Gaia Book 1)

by H. C. Damrosch

  Of course…it’s the stealing dilemma all over again! I suppose it wouldn’t do any good to tell you lying is wrong?

  Such a statement would be absurd. Why is it wrong? Especially in such a case as this, where the deceit is unlikely to seriously harm or hinder the deceived. Truth harms as well, in certain circumstances. What then makes the other ‘wrong’?

  Oh, I forgot. You’re just a walking mannequin without a conscience. Silly of me for expecting you to know about these things! Keren huffed.

  Camp was broken in the space of a few minutes. The warriors had only stopped for a short repast before Keren saw their fire. Each man was only lightly burdened, able to pack all of his belongings into a small reed box which was worn on the back. Their wooden armor was also relatively light, and enabled them to jog like wolves across long distances.

  Keren and Akar kept to the back of the company, and by sunset the rebels had crossed the grassy plateau to the foot of the final peak. They would make their ascent at first light the next day.

  That night, as they stood watch around a blazing fire, Akar questioned them about the nature of their enemy. The men readily admitted they did not know how difficult it would be to slay Amaterasu. However, every one of them knew the tried-and-true technique for such a deed.

  “The trick, stranger, is to hurt them before they latch onto your heart. It breaks their concentration, and doesn’t let them compromise your own. Next you cut up their body so they can’t fight back. They are shape shifters, as you know, so that part can be tricky – detached limbs flailing around trying to grab you, living blood burning like acid on your skin, hair like wires trying to strangle you…But you cut them up just enough, until you can grab their mask.

  “If you destroy the mask – burning is best, but pulverizing works just as well, depending on the tools at hand – the yokai dies. That’s it. They may be the freakiest monsters you’ve ever seen, but their mask has their spirit in it, and if that’s destroyed, they’re gone. You just have an awful sticky mess to clean up afterward…”

  “Every one of us has proven himself by killing at least one yokai,” the first warrior said. “Fearsome though they may be, they are not immortal! Their ‘goddess’ is no different, despite what the priests say.”

  Keren slept restlessly that night, tightly curled against the mare. The mountain breeze blew as cold as winter, and the next morning the land was coated with frost. By midday, however, the flowers had shaken off their icy coats and turned to face the sun anew. At that time the rebel party was cresting the final rise.

  It was as if they gazed upon another world. Deep in the vast bowl of the encircling mountains the Lake of Izanami lay. Its waters were as clear as the sky; so clear one could glimpse the shadows of massive beasts swimming in their depths. The trees were no longer stunted, but grew into giants; their canopies raucous with the activity of a million birds whose plumage sparkled against the leaves.

  The clouds were backed up against the sides of the bowl; walls of white reaching for a firmament of endless sky. Keren looked again and gasped. It was midday, yet the stars shone as brightly as if it were midnight. They winked in strange colors: blue and pink and green and gold.

  Ozora no Kyuden reclined in the center of Izanami’s blue expanse, wreathed in cherry blossom trees, its spires lifting upward to where white spirits danced on the wind.

  The rebel warriors murmured amongst themselves for several moments. Several of them fell to their knees despite themselves, weeping in awe at the beauty that lay at the center of their land – the heart of creation they had always spoken of, but never seen. Finally they managed to pull themselves together and made their way down the mountain.

  They passed into the shade of giant boughs once more, and the air grew rich with the scent of pollen and dew. They passed silently beneath the chorale of birds overhead, the patterns woven on their robes blending smoothly into shadow. Keren and Akar followed behind. Even the mare was hushed in this place, its hooves making no sound against the soft earth.

  After several hours they reached the lakeside, and several men scouted ahead towards the one bridge leading onto the island. Keren shuffled uneasily, unable to still the restless beating of her heart. It was the same as she’d felt the first time she stepped foot in the forest, before being attacked by the yokai. The dread of a terrible presence, watching them.

  She endured it for several moments, but could not keep from bursting out to Akar: “Am I going mad? There…there is power here.”

  “Again, the stories prove their worth,” Akar murmured. “The lake is indeed a reflection of the sun.”

  “What do you mean?” Keren asked. Sure, the waters were exceptionally deep and clear, and the orb of the afternoon sun was perfectly reflected upon their glassy surface. But then, the Necrow rarely spoke the obvious about such things.

  “You recall what was said upon our first meeting, when you asked what it was the Necrow saw with their eyes closed?”

  She nodded.

  “All the rivers of life-energy which sustain this country flow from this source. The deep spring which feeds this lake is also the mouth of a great well of energy. It swirls and mixes with the water as it surges up from cavernous reservoirs of power. Below your feet, as vast as this basin from shore to shore, swirls a great whirlpool of living energy. Golden and brilliant to the Necrow’s inner sight, it is a perfect reflection of the sun as seen by normal eyes.”

  Keren gaped at the ground in awe. A second sun below the surface of the earth? How had the people of Reihai known, without a Necrow’s eyes to tell them? Did the yokai give them the stories, or were they revealed by the kami? Strange things were afoot here, and they only served to increase Keren’s foreboding.

  The scouts returned, and all of them made their way to the bridge. It was built of stone and wood, so ancient that trees rather than moss grew from the cracks. The original wood had long since rotted away, replaced by interwoven roots. Stone statues stood in ranks along the span. They resembled crouching lions with the faces of dogs. Around each neck was a collar bearing a small jade talisman.

  “The bridge of guardians,” one scout said pensively. “It is said to be impossible to cross; the beasts come to life and attack any intruder mercilessly. Their flesh is invulnerable to normal weapons.”

  “We do not know how Irumi breached the palace,” another said. “He may have found some clever way to cross the bridge unseen. Or perhaps he never came this way at all. Surely he did not cross the lake, even by boat; the monsters there are gargantuan, and quick to snap up anything that moves.”

  “What do we do, then?” one of the others asked. “If the bridge is supposedly impassable, and Irumi came by an unknown way –”

  “We cross here, for it is the only way known to us. All of us agreed to this crusade despite the odds of its success. Each of us came knowing we might die for naught. All of you are here now because of your families, your clan and your village.

  “You are here now because you know, if this enterprise does not succeed, all of your loved ones will continue to suffer and die beneath the hand of a tyrant. If this enterprise does not succeed, all your children and grandchildren will ever know is that they exist to forfeit their hearts and souls to a world that cares nothing for them. We will cross this bridge, all of us or none, because it is the only way we know to a better future!”

  All the rebels roared at his words.

  Keren looked on in awe. These men had no fear; they had already dedicated themselves to a cause for which any sacrifice would be given. If only the people of Herayon were like that – if only they had stood a chance…

  The men were about to charge the bridge when Akar stepped forward. “Please allow me to go first. If one of us is to be the first to fall, let it be I.”

  The warriors looked at him dubiously. “And why should you have the honor of going first?”

  “I told you before that I was cursed. What I did not say was that this curse provides me with immunity aga
inst certain of the yokai’s abilities. Because I am heartless, they no longer sense my presence. Allow me to go and bring back the masks of the guardians; you can then destroy them at your leisure.”

  Some looked at Akar like a fool; others with curiosity. “Go then, stranger. Take their masks from them if you can. But if they stomp you into mud, we will hold no funeral rights for you.”

  Akar nodded and strode onto the bridge. Indeed, the statues did not move. Keren thought she detected the barest trembling of their feet, but could not be sure. The Necrow fairly waltzed down the line, plucking the jade talismans from each collar. A dozen of them, there were. It returned and threw the handful of stones at the feet of the rebels.

  Without a word – though some of them eyed Akar as if he were a ghost – the men set about smashing the talismans with their hammers. As each precious stone was smashed, one of the statues crumbled into dust.

  Keren felt almost sorry for the yokai. At the end of it all, the proud lion-dogs were reduced to rubble. All because of the Necrow’s simple trickery. Keren did not understand quite how it did that, and she didn’t want to know.

  The rebels crossed the bridge with weapons drawn, but no other yokai leapt forth to seize them. They paused before the great doors of Ozora no Kyuden, which stood open as if in welcome. The vast timbers were stained blood-red and bound in gold. To either side the Sakura blossoms shivered with gentle fragrance. The interior of the palace was dark, lit only by sullen red lanterns.

  Akar pointed upwards. “See the wind spirits gathering about the roof? I would reckon the yokai queen is there. She is a coward, and will try to put the whole distance of the palace between herself and her enemies.”

  The warriors nodded. “We plan to scale the central tower first. What will you do, stranger?”

  “It would be preferable for this one to remain here and guard the gate, on the small chance that any monsters attempt to follow you.”

  The men nodded and entered the palace without another word, quickly disappearing into the shadows.

  Keren looked at Akar. “Now what?”

  “Now we go in, and head downward.”

  Keren almost felt her question to be redundant, given her sarcastic expression. “Uh…why?”

  “Because Amaterasu is not in the tower. She resides in the depths of this fortress, nearest to her center of power.”

  “Ah-hah! So you lied to those hooligans to get them out of the way? How kind of you.”

  “Hardly. The deceit was done out of no concern for their state of mind. It will simply be easier to interrogate the goddess without their interference.” Akar passed through the doorway and into the dim corridor. Keren followed closely.

  “You can see her right now?”

  “Yes. She has the pattern of a yokai in my inner sight, but appears…quite unique.”

  “How so?” Curious though she was, Keren was a bit exasperated at having to constantly ask the Necrow to qualify its remarks. Out with it already!

  “Human energies resemble torches: they are lively, substantial, only vaguely altering their shape over time. The yokai resemble trees: semi-solid centers surrounded by fine lines. The center is constant, but the outer lines are always moving.” Akar found the stairway at the end of the hall and began to descend. Keren could barely see in the dim light, and almost ran into the Necrow’s back.

  “Amaterasu’s center is of such density and brightness that she nearly resembles a human. Apart from the fine lines which connect her to her physical body, she also possesses several massive spectral limbs. These limbs delve into the reservoir of power beneath this palace. Put another way, this queen is nearly as powerful as the humans fear.”

  “Can you…dispose of her like you did with those statues?”

  “Perhaps, though she will put up more of a struggle. Keep quiet now. It is uncertain whether she knows we are already here.”

  Keren’s heart leapt, and she almost ran into the Necrow’s back again. Suddenly this didn’t seem like such a good idea. The air was close, heavy with the watchful potential she had sensed by the lakeside. So much power…ancient, hungry, throbbing…

  Finally the stairs came to an end. Across from them was another set of doors, also open. The hall beyond was vast, reaching upward into darkness. Winking blue lights hung suspended on chains: tiny cages with fairy spirits dancing inside. Enormous pillars formed a procession down the hall. On their surface, facing the doors, were the visages of gigantic beasts. The sockets of their eyes glowed with precious gems. Keren could make out a bird, a cat, a serpent, a wolf, and a deer. The last two she did not recognize.

  The floor was marble, white on black, and led grandly to a shining throne at the hall’s end. A huge silver tree grew across the wall, and in the bole of the tree sat a woman.

  Keren gasped. The woman’s eyes were like jet, piercing across distance like a knife tearing through cloth. Her body was slim and supple, draped carelessly across the silver seat, every finger perfectly poised. Her hair flowed like molten onyx across her shoulders. She was the very picture of haughtiness and grandeur; a perfect being demanding worship from all who gazed upon her.

  Akar strode forward unhesitating. Keren followed a ways without thinking, then looked around frantically. The fairies in their cages giggled down at her. Sensing potential danger everywhere, Keren decided the safest place to be was in Akar’s shadow. She crept after the Necrow, hoping it wouldn’t go too close to that unearthly presence. It was as if she followed an avatar of darkness as it approached divinity incarnate.

  Akar halted at the last pillar, twenty paces from where the goddess reclined. The two regarded one-another silently.

  Finally the Necrow said: “Are you Amaterasu, queen of the yokai?”

  “I am she,” the woman purred.

  “Do you know what comes before you?”

  Amaterasu sighed. “Of course I do, damned spirit. Is that all you have come to ask?”

  “This one has come because it was said you had knowledge of the Necrow’s inner being.”

  “Ah…yes. I’m afraid I hardly know as much as you might expect.”

  “Your fellow yokai called me ‘spirit of damned man’. What did they mean by that?”

  “You don’t know?” Amaterasu smirked. “You may look like a man, but you have no heart. The yokai know of only two beings that match such a description. One is a living man who has destroyed his own soul. The other is a dead spirit that has been sealed into a form not its own. The former we call ‘damned’, the latter, ‘spirit of the damned’.”

  “Why do you call them that?”

  “Long ago, one of our kind inquired of a human priest about such matters. The priest was the one who used those terms. We do not know what the words mean; only that they relate to man’s experience of death. The yokai enjoy using them because they have the sound of a curse. Ask a priest if you’d like a more cultivated opinion on the matter!”

  “Then you do not know what lies beyond death?”

  “Beyond death…? Poor creature, there is no such thing! All that perishes returns to the earth. One’s body decays, and one’s spirit is consumed by greater spirits. All of mankind has been reborn countless times in one form or another, though you cannot remember, for your memories are digested as thoroughly as your flesh.

  “We who sit on high wonder at man’s petty fear of death. Surely he would not be so afraid if he understood the way of things! His struggle is equivalent to the worm, the mouse, the sparrow, and the locust. Like them, his death serves to feed something greater than himself. And yet man insists on torturing his heart with fruitless longings for a life beyond death! What is the purpose of such self-deception?”

  “But the villagers…!” Keren gasped. “They think if they only serve you well enough, they will be reborn and granted immortal positions alongside you!”

  “Of course they do!” Amaterasu scoffed. “We tell them this because it’s what they want to believe.” She arched an eyebrow at Keren’s shocked e
xpression. “Really, now? Little girl, the yokai have no sympathy for human morality. Why shouldn’t we tell them sweet lies to make them live the way we desire – the way they ought to live to begin with? It’s not like they’re going to realize we tricked them after they’re dead!” the goddess crowed. All along the hall, the glowing sprites tinkled maliciously in their lanterns.

  “What about the other legends they tell? About Iru Mori being the source of creation, a blessed land the gods meant for them to inherit?”

  “Legends are called legends for a reason, girl. This Well has existed for little more than a thousand years. There are many others like it in the world. Men may imagine this to be the pillar of creation; I tell you in truth it is only a sapling, a young tree which will bloom and die in its own course. Men were led to this land by their greed, and appease the gods by being food for the yokai.

  “This lake is not unique, nor is it particularly impressive to my kind. We come from a much richer place than this. Nevertheless, the Well is precious to us, and the last thing we will ever do is allow it to fall into the filthy, corrupted hands of men!”

  Akar nodded. “That is agreed. It is difficult to see the resemblance, but my people were created from a well not unlike this one. That well was nearly dry. Still, Belshazzar managed to make an army from it. What men would be capable of doing, had they a well as powerful as this…”

  The queen tossed her sable locks in contempt. “They would not be capable of much, compared to what my kind have accomplished! Still, it unsettles the heart to envisage my lake being turned to such foul purposes. I see you feel the same? How peculiar it must be to hate your own kind.”

  “No, not hate,” Akar said. “The Necrow are merely honest enough to recognize what we are, and what we are is cursed. As we are, we can never belong to this world. Even should we become corrupted and turn into men, we would go mad and lose the world just as surely.”

  “Ah, you poor things…” Amaterasu rose from her throne, sashaying forward with languid strides. Her legs were longer than they seemed. Keren backed away instinctively, keeping herself in Akar’s shadow. This woman had the same look and feel as the other yokai: a wild beast who was a master at lulling its prey with shows of indifference – before charging in and ripping its throat out.