Brave Story

by Miyabe, Miyuki

  “One in the north, and one in the south. They’re about the same size, but that’s where the similarities end. Down in the southern lands, we’ve got mountains aplenty, and the seasons bring all sorts of weather. It’s warm though, so there’s lots of animals and greenery. They say the northern continent is covered in ice and snow for near half the year.”

  The two continents, he explained, were separated by a vast sea. And this sea, he said, was shrouded in a thick, nearly impenetrable mist.

  “It’s hard to see much in that mist, so not a whole lot is known about the open sea. The sailors say there’s a cluster of tiny islands right between the northern continent and the south, but no ships sent out to find ’em have ever returned. Now, some say that right where those islands are, that’s where you’ll find the Tower of Destiny, but if you ask me they’ve got it all wrong. Those islands are where the monsters and villains and enemies of the Goddess are bound in chains. A prison colony, it is.”

  Wataru just hoped the Tower of Destiny wasn’t in such a hard-to-get-to place. “But you can travel between the two continents, right?”

  “Of course you can. There are several known trade routes between the two lands, and merchant sailships ride them pretty often. Sailships ride the waves by the power of the wind, you see. Of course, when there is no wind to be had, they don’t move. That’s why it’s so important to know just how much wind you need for how many days to cross by a certain route, and knowing when that wind’s going to blow, well, that’s the most important thing of all.”

  Kee Keema explained that the ones in charge of foretelling the winds were called “starseers.”

  “They can tell which way and how hard the winds can blow just by reading the stars, see—thus the name. And knowing about the wind isn’t their only job. Why, they know all sorts of things about the world. They’re virtual treasure houses of information. Should you need anything on your travels, you might try asking one of them a question. The largest towns’ll have at least one set up in a fancy old Seerhall. You’ll find it in no time.”

  “So we’re on the southern continent? It must be, with grass like this.”

  “Exactly!” Kee Keema said brightly. “Nacht is one of the United Southern Nations, you see.”

  There were four of these smaller countries on the southern continent, Wataru soon learned: Nacht, Bog, Sasaya, and Arikita, along with a place with the rather convoluted—to Wataru’s ear—name of the “Special Administrative State of Dela Rubesi.” All of them together formed a sort of Republic. Lacking a notebook, Wataru repeated the words inside his head. Nacht, Bog, Sasaya, Arikita. He couldn’t remember ever being this interested in social studies class.

  “Speaking generally, Nacht is a country of agriculture and livestock. Most of it is flat plains in the southernmost part of the southern continent. On the opposite side, next to the ocean, is Bog, land of merchants. Sasaya, then, is a haven for scholars. Just about every starseer goes there once in his lifetime to study. Arikita is the most industrious of the southern nations. Lots of mines there too.”

  “What about this Special Administrative State of Dela Rubesi place?”

  Kee Keema tilted his head. Instead of an answer, he asked a question. “What sort of gods do you pray to, Wataru?”

  “Gods? Um…” Wataru hesitated. He hadn’t ever really thought about God, or gods, before. “I’m not really sure. Maybe my mom could tell you.”

  “What, is she a priest?”

  Wataru laughed. “No, but, my grandpa in Chiba’s grave is at a temple that belongs to some sect or other. I’m really not sure…”

  “Hrm? A sect you say? What’s that?”

  Kee Keema let go of the reins with his right hand and scratched at his lip with a crooked nail. It was the exact same gesture Katchan would make when the teacher asked him a question at school and he didn’t know the answer.

  Wataru wondered how old Kee Keema was. His body was quite large, but it occurred to him he might be younger than he looked.

  Who knows? The waterkin may age differently than us—than the ankha, I mean.

  “There are many different peoples living in the southern lands, you see, but they all pray to the Goddess of the Tower.”

  When Kee Keema spoke about the Goddess, his tone became very serious. “Why, she was the one who made this world. She started it all. In a way, the Goddess is like our mother.”

  But, he went on to explain, there were some in Vision who thought differently.

  “Some people say that she didn’t make the world at all—that some other god made the world, and she’s just watching it for ’im.”

  “Watching the world?”

  I don’t suppose a world is the kind of thing you can just throw in a coin locker and forget about.

  “So somewhere there’s a god that’s even more powerful than the Goddess?”

  “More powerful…or just older. That’s why they call him the Old God.”

  He explained that the Special Administrative State of Dela Rubesi was formed of people who believed in the Old God as Creator. In some ways, it was more of a church than a nation.

  “Right in the middle of the southern continent is a high plateau, the Undoor Highland, and that’s where you’ll find Dela Rubesi. The people who live there don’t mingle much with us low-landers. They grow all their own food—or so we have to assume, since they never trade for it. Truth be told, no one knows much about them. They don’t let in outsiders, you see.”

  “So what do these people who worship the Old God think of the Goddess?”

  “What do they think? Not much, frankly. To them, the Old God is much more important. When the apocalypse comes to our world, and the end is near, they say the Old God will come again and bring order to the world.”

  “What does everybody else think about this? What would you think, Kee Keema?”

  “Hrm…well, I don’t know much about history,” Kee Keema said, avoiding the subject. “But I know about the Old God, because they tell you all about him when you’re a child. They say he’s a god from way way back. We waterkin call the Old God Il-da Yamyamro, which means the One Who Brings Order to Chaos.”

  “The One Who Brings Order to Chaos.” Cool name.

  “’Course, since the Empire came together ’bout three hundred years back, no one just believes in the Old God anymore. You’re either a true believer in ’im, or a follower of the Goddess, and never the twain shall meet.”

  He explained that the northern continent used to be made up of tiny city-states, like the southern continent, with many different races mingling together.

  “My grandpa used to talk about how it was so cold up there, and the land was bare, and the mines were stripped—that’s why they spent so long fighting each other.”

  The northern continent had starseers too, but they had been too distracted by the war that their knowledge hadn’t advanced to the point of their southern fellows. Without the skill to read the winds, they were unable to cross the waters easily—sparing the rich lands of the southern continent from invasion.

  “Until about a hundred years after unification, when our sailships first started making the passage north, we had no idea what it was like up there. That’s what I heard from my Grandpa, and he heard it from his parents when he was just a wee one.

  “When at last there was the signing of a trade agreement between the United Southern Nations and the Northern Empire, the South had to agree to an odd sort of promise: we would teach only the history of the North beginning with the Empire’s creation. That’s why, to this day, in the schools of the South, world history begins only three hundred years ago.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Wataru said, a bit too loudly, and he threw up his arms, forgetting his precarious position on top of Kee Keema’s shoulders. He toppled off and was caught only at the last moment by a quick grab by Kee Keema’s strong fingers.

  “Watch it, there,” Kee Keema growled, dragging Wataru back up to his shoulders. “Wouldn’t want me g
ood luck charm to get run over by me darbaba. That’d curse me to the end of my days for sure.”

  Far across the grassland, Wataru spotted another clump of trees. “We’re ’bout halfway there,” Kee Keema said, pulling on the reins. “How’s about we take a rest at that oasis, hrm?”

  Instead of a well, this stand of trees had a small spring surrounded by stones, from which clear water bubbled and burbled in an ever-flowing stream. Wataru cupped some in his hands and tasted it. It was sweet.

  “I’m famished! Aren’t you? Let’s eat.”

  Wataru sat down by the spring and spread the package he had received from the Wayfinder on his knees. Meanwhile, Kee Keema brushed down Turbo, then went back to his carriage. Thrusting his hands beneath the cover, he pulled out something that looked like a slab of some dried meat.

  “What’s that?” Wataru asked, craning his neck to see, when he saw with horror that the thing in Kee Keema’s hands had two eyes shining a violent shade of red. Kee Keema’s jerky had a face.

  “This? Dried n’bara. Best thing on the road,” the waterkin said, licking his lips and taking a big bite out of the thing’s side.

  Wataru swallowed the bile he felt rising in his throat, and steadied himself. Though it was hard to tell from its current desiccated state, he figured the n’bara was a small animal that looked something like an extremely ugly raccoon.

  So the waterkin are carnivores.

  Wataru noted this new fact in his head, and quietly ate his bread. Kee Keema finished the n’bara jerky in three bites, and began picking fruit from the trees around the spring. Crunching one between his teeth, he offered another to Wataru. “Mako berries! They’re a little on the sour side, but they won’t mess with your stomach like baquas. Careful not to get any of the juice on yer shirt, ’cause you won’t be able to get it out later.”

  Wataru was reminded again of the importance of knowing what you could and couldn’t eat around here. He would have to learn a lot if he was going to be able to travel in this place alone. He was incredibly fortunate to have met someone like Kee Keema so soon after beginning his journey. Wataru was determined to learn as much as he could before they parted ways.

  First things first, though. Back to the history lesson. Wataru begged Kee Keema to continue. The waterkin gave a satisfied belch, and raised an eyebrow. “What were we talking about again?” His long tongue lashed out and licked the top of his head. “Oh right, the northern continent, unification thereof. Well before unification, the Empire was just another small country in the North, a land of ankha.”

  Three hundred years before, this small country had tenaciously clung to victory through a long series of wars, and proceeded to slowly unify the entire continent.

  “That’s when the first emperor, Gama Agrilius I, arrived on the scene, saying his family was directly descended from the old God. And the Goddess who said she received the world from the old God—the Goddess that we pray to—they said she was of a lower rank than even their own ancestors. She wasn’t even qualified to rule our world, they claimed, but she had deceived the old God and tried to steal the world away from its rightful owners: House Agrilius. Can you believe it?”

  And that wasn’t all.

  “When I first picked you up, remember I told you that the ankha were the first race created by the Goddess, and that’s why they look so much like her? Well Gama Agrilius I, he said that was a pack of lies. The ankha don’t look like her, he said, they look like the Old God. After all, according to them, he’s the one who made the world.”

  This new emperor went on to claim that the true form of the Goddess wasn’t anything like the ankha at all, but was a crude, aged thing too horrible to bear looking at.

  “That’s why she doesn’t tell us her name, and that’s why she hides in the Tower where none can see her. Because, if we could see her, then we’d know the truth. That’s what they say, anyhow.”

  Wataru folded up his lunch while Kee Keema continued with his story. The lizard-man’s face was drawn tight.

  “Like I said, the lands to the north knew war for years, and the people there lived on the brink of starvation. Oh, they had to struggle terribly just to stay alive. Gama Agrilius I, he said the endless wars, and the lack of food, were all the fault of the Goddess. See, she visited plague and hardship on the ankha because she resented them. She’d rather have ugly, twisted things, like her, to take their place. The long and the short of it was, the Goddess was trying to exterminate the ankha, and it was up to them to fight back.”

  Kee Keema tilted his head and blinked slowly, deep in thought. “What happened next I can hardly believe. The ankha living in the northern lands—not only the emperor’s family, but them that lived in the other smaller countries as well—they all ate it up, every last word! Oh, they clapped and shouted and cheered him for saying it.”

  There were many different races living in the northern lands, Wataru learned, but of them the ankha were by far the most numerous.

  “They joined together and started exterminating the other races, and they were strong, real strong. If you lived in the northern lands and you weren’t an ankha, your house and fields’d be taken away, you’d be killed, or thrown in a camp and made a slave. The number of non-ankha dropped by the day. And then, the ankha had their glorious empire.”

  It was clear to Wataru now why Kee Keema had said he was glad to have been born in the south.

  “Now, three hundred years since unification, they say there’s hardly anything but ankha living in the north. If there are any other kinds left, why, you can bet theirs ain’t an easy lot. It’s enough to make you cry.”

  It didn’t take much imagination to conclude that the Empire would like nothing better than to invade the southern continent with the excuse of strengthening ties with their kinfolk in Dela Rubesi. Then they would proceed to make an empire of the south as they had in the north, Kee Keema said glumly. “But, these three hundred years, not a single high priest of Dela Rubesi has made the slightest motion toward joining House Agrilius’s empire. They seem content to live in seclusion up in the mountains, with no ties to the world below. Us nonbelievers here don’t even know what the high priest looks like.”

  The Northern Empire couldn’t make ties with Dela Rubesi if the latter had no contact with the outside world.

  “We in the United Southern Nations are careful how we deal with Dela Rubesi and the believers, though. Wouldn’t want to rile ’em up and give ’em cause to look for friends to the north, if you get my meaning. That’s why we agreed to their odd demands in the trade agreements, so as not to provoke them and give them reason to come storming into our territory. Aye, dealing with Dela Rubesi’s a bit like having a snake in your bed. You don’t want to kick it out or try to trap it because it might bite you. You just leave it alone.”

  Wataru nodded slowly. The whole story sounded vaguely familiar—like maybe something of the sort had happened in his world—but whatever it was, they hadn’t learned it yet in social studies.

  “When I came here,” Wataru said, “I was told that Vision was created by the imaginations of people—humans—living in my world. Maybe that’s why events here seem kind of familiar?”

  Kee Keema scratched at his upper lip. “What’re hoomans?”

  Wataru grinned. “Don’t worry about it. Thanks for telling me so much.”

  “Right, then, let’s be off,” Kee Keema said with a smile. “The long and the short of it is, stay in the south and you’ll do fine. We know peace, here.”

  Chapter 5

  Gasara, Merchant Town

  Once again they took off, rocking and swaying across the grasslands. By now Wataru had grown used to Turbo’s gait and was able to sit on the wooden seat without the constant risk of falling off. Wataru asked his helpful guide question after question: what was safe to eat, what dangers lurked in the wilds of Vision. Kee Keema was happy to oblige with answers.

  After they had gone some distance, Wataru spotted a thick, verdant forest far ahead
of them, a hundred times larger than the small wooded oasis they had previously seen. A building like a tower with a triangular roof stood among the trees.

  “The town of Gasara,” Kee Keema announced, pointing ahead. “A merchant town. Lots of folks come here: darbaba teamsters like myself, sailship merchants, even starseers on their travels from town to town in search of new knowledge. It’s a lively place, Gasara.”

  The air was bone dry here, and the sun was hot. Wataru wiped the sweat off his brow, and squinted as he looked over the town of Gasara. He noticed something glinting to the left of the woods surrounding the town—riders on darbaba, heading out over the grassland.

  “Who are they?”

  Kee Keema looked out over the grass. “Oh, them? Them’s probably the Knights of Stengel—the ones in charge of keeping the peace here in the United Nations. That’s quite a few of them too. That sparklin’ you see is the sun on their armor. From their direction, I’d say they’re off to fight gimblewolves out in the Fatal Desert.”

  Ack! Gimblewolves!

  “This Fatal Desert…it’s close?”

  “Aye. Turbo here could make the journey to the gorge that leads into the desert in about a day.”

  “Why the name?”

  “Because it’s big, and it’s surrounded by rocky crags, so you can’t even get a good look at it until you’re right in the thick of it. With no maps of the place, and gimblewolves running amok, many are the fools who wander in never to be seen again. No return, see?”

  Wataru remembered his run-in with the gimblewolves, and the hair stood up on his neck. “Wait, why do they have to go kill the gimblewolves? The wolves don’t come out of the desert, do they? Do they attack people?”

  “Sometimes. Those corkscrews’ll eat anything, and they never seem to get full. That’s why they come over the rocky crags and attack merchant caravans traveling the road on the other side—huh?” Kee Keema looked curiously at Wataru. “You know about the gimblewolves?”

  “Unfortunately,” Wataru answered. He didn’t want to think about it. “I’ve…heard stories.”