Now that he had thought of it, Shin Suxin agreed Wataru should make all due haste. “The United Nations will soon be summoning the karulakin to carry word of Halnera across the land. Make your journey before then, or you may be forced to wait.”
The path to Sonn wound through marsh and thicket, but it had been well trodden by Shin on his trips for supplies, and was relatively easy to follow.
Sonn was by far the smallest of all the towns and villages Wataru had seen during his time in Vision. A grand total of ten simple houses with thatched roofs sat huddled together in a small clearing cut out of a copse of trees. But it was adjacent to a vast pasture on the sloping side of a hill, many times larger than the town itself. The pasture was divided by several fences. These separate enclosures held darbabas, udais, and other strange livestock Wataru had never seen before. The beasts bleated and bellowed, locked horns, chewed grass, and slept.
The town master was a beastkin who looked like a long-eared dog, with warm eyes peeking out from beneath bushy eyebrows. Wataru’s udai had been taken special care of, and its coat shone with a recent brushing.
“Why, we’ve some karulakin in town right now.”
The karulah, it turned out, came to Sonn to trade their decorative feathers for furry creatures called mols. Mols were smaller than mice, and famous for their voracious appetite. They especially liked the tiny insects that were fond of living on the underside of karulakins’ wings.
“You’re young, yes, but a Highlander is a Highlander,” said the karulakin to whom the town master introduced Wataru. With his red feathers, gaudy headdress, and stately way of speaking, the karulah reminded Wataru much of the one who had saved him from the gimblewolves in the Fatal Desert. So striking was the similarity that Wataru started to wonder if even the karulah had trouble telling each other apart.
“And if we were to turn down a Highlander’s request, why, that’d be to the shame of all karulakin everywhere, wouldn’t it, town master?”
“Yes, quite,” the long-eared town master replied, smiling. “This here’s Togoto of the Kakkuu. He’s the swiftest-winged of the Kakkuu, I hear. You’ll be in Sakawa in no time.”
“You speak imprecisely, town master,” Togoto said with a frown. “I am not only the fastest of the Kakkuu, but the fastest of the Rakka as well. Even still, the trip to Sakawa will not take ‘no time,’ as our dear town master suggests. Why I think you should have time enough to, say, hear me recite the History of the Karulah from the birth of the first ancestors up to, well, about the reign of the Second King and the Battle of the Breaking of Gara Pass if you so desired!”
While Togoto prepared for departure, the town master spoke in a hushed voice to Wataru. “Stick a ball of rolled up mol-fur in each ear, and you’d be able to sleep like a baby at the foot of a roaring dragon. Here’s two of them for the trip. Togoto may be fast, but his pontifications are anything but.”
“Understood,” said Wataru, smiling.
“And don’t worry too much about having to say anything yourself. Just go ‘Oh, right’ and ‘Ah, yes’ and throw in a ‘My, that’s quite remarkable’ every once in a while and you’ll do fine.”
Wataru had imagined Togoto would carry him in his claws, as it had been with the karulakin in the gimblewolf desert, but when he was told they were ready to depart, he found a chair like a wicker basket waiting for him. It hung by means of a cleverly designed harness from Togoto’s torso.
“I’m sorry you have to do all the work.”
“A Highlander should not be so eager to apologize. When an apology is called for, it should be for a suitable crime, and only after all proper documentation has been submitted. Why, at the Accord of the Battle of Taro, the ancestors of the karulakin…”
And so the lecture started even before takeoff. With most of the village folk waving goodbye, Wataru sped up into the air.
They passed so close over the thatched roofs of Sonn, Wataru could’ve stretched out his toes and touched them. A child waved, and Wataru waved back. They were blessed with perfect weather. The sky was a solid sheet of blue, without a trace of any clouds. Togoto ascended rapidly, so fast that Wataru felt himself wanting to shout, like he was on a jet coaster at the fair.
Beneath Wataru’s feet the nature of Vision spread out in all its glory: mountains, hills, plains, streams, and forests as far as the eye could see. When he figured out which direction they were heading, he looked back around to the left to see the black glimmer of the Swamp of Grief fading into the distance. A veil of fog hung over the marshes. And beyond the swamp, he caught a glimpse of Tearsheaven.
Wataru was grateful for the cotton vest the town master had lent him for the trip. Their elevation and the cutting winds made it a chilly ride. They flew past foothills to mountains Wataru had never seen, over a village, and then a river. The town master had warned him that Togoto would take his charge quite seriously. It was likely they would fly on without more than a brief rest now and then. “Watch that you don’t nap and fall from your chair.”
Wataru looked down at the incredible view and wondered how anyone could fall asleep. The first place they rested was at the gatehouse on the border between Arikita and Bog. There was a teahouse there where traveling merchants gathered and baqua trees grew thick along the roadside. While they waited for their papers to be processed, Wataru selected one of the fruits and ate it.
“Have you a map in your head yet? Do you know where we are flying now?” Togoto asked while resting his wings.
“Not a clue,” Wataru replied honestly. “But I’m having the time of my life!”
“A Highlander should not allow himself to be satisfied with such trivialities as sightseeing,” Togato chided. “We have ridden the wind due west from Sonn. As we make for Sakawa, we must head north from here, for Sakawa is on the Bog coast. Understood?”
Wataru nodded.
“Incidentally, before heading north, we need to find a rising current, and that will take us to our highest elevation yet. It won’t be for long, but you should be able to catch a glimpse of the Undoor Highland. It is a foreboding plateau shrouded in mist and cloud all year round, with not a single road or footpath for travelers.”
Togoto looked up at the sky, beaming proudly. “I would think that, as a Highlander, you might value this rare opportunity! Blessed be the all-powerful Goddess for her gift to the karulakin of mighty wings!”
The Undoor Highland. Home to the Special Administrative State of Dela Rubesi. Secret haven to the followers of the Old God.
“Looking forward to it!” Wataru said. Togoto also seemed to be in high spirits, and they left as soon as their papers were ready.
Togoto was not only a speaker of some eloquence, but some reliability as well. Their ascent was breathtaking as promised. Wataru feared he might be knocked out of his basket, so swiftly did they climb up through the shifting air currents.
After a brief but very fast ascent, they began to climb more gradually, tracing a slow upward spiral. Even with his earplugs, Wataru could feel the beat of Togoto’s crimson wings as they cut through the air. They climbed, and climbed, passing through white mists and clouds. When Wataru felt his basket-seat lift up into the air briefly then settle, he knew they had arrived at their planned elevation.
The view was hardly any different than the one from an airplane window. The buildings of the gatehouse looked like matchboxes, the dense forest like a broccoli patch. Wataru was entranced by the panorama beneath him—a vast mottled blanket of greens and browns. He could see towns and villages scattered in the distance, small lakes mirroring the sky, and rivers winding through it all like silken threads.
Togoto was saying something. Wataru took out the plugs. “Highlander! There is Undoor!” he shouted, jabbing southward with his beak. “Look! The clouds have broken! See the snow on the uppermost reaches!”
Wataru looked. In the middle of a massive tower of white clouds, he could see a great, gray plateau. The countless streaks of glimmering white draped down its sides m
ust be glaciers, he realized.
The highest reaches of the plateau were covered in white. It was hard to get a good view, because the break in the clouds was very narrow, and constantly shifting. No sooner had he realized what he was looking at than the upper reaches of the plateau were once again concealed behind a wall of white. Yet in that brief moment, Wataru saw something like a shining tower. Not one tower, but several, catching the sun through the gap in the clouds.
Are they glass? Or crystal? Or even towers of ice? They glimmered like rainbows, like they were made of the stuff of clouds, crystallized and given form. Is there really an entire country up there?
“Now on to the northerly current! Hold on tight!” Togoto called, and gave his wings a large flap. The scene beneath Wataru’s feet shifted. Lifted on a powerful gust of air, Togoto shot like a bullet through the sky.
The Undoor Highland and its towers of cloud faded farther and farther away. Wataru twisted in his chair and looked back for as long as he was able. Even when the wind blew frightfully cold, and his cheeks burned, he did not look away.
It’s like…like….
Like a place where the gods live.
The thought surprised Wataru, even though it had been his own.
What if one of those towers was the Tower of Destiny? What if the Goddess was there, after all? So few seemed to be able to enter the Undoor Highlands, wouldn’t it make sense if the tower that none had seen was there as well? What if the people of the Special Administrative State of Dela Rubesi did not communicate with others in Vision not because they followed the Old God, but because they were sworn to protect the domicile of the Goddess in all its secrecy?
Maybe I just saw it—my final destination.
Wataru sat in silence. Even without earplugs, the sound of blood rushing through his veins and the beating of his heart drowned out everything else.
They took a few brief rest breaks, but Togoto never seemed to weary, and they made good progress northward. The sun grew low in the sky and it was nearing twilight when he first caught a glimpse of the sea far ahead of them.
There were flying at a much lower elevation now. Wataru was able to talk to Togoto without having to shout. “Is that the sea that surrounds the southern continent?”
“The very one!”
“So beyond that is the northern continent? Have you ever flown there, Togoto?”
“Flown there? Never!” Togoto said, shaking so much that Wataru’s basket began to swing from side to side. Wataru hurriedly grabbed on so he wouldn’t fall.
“Do you not know, Highlander? In the middle of the sea which separates north from south looms the Stinging Mist!”
“The Stinging Mist?”
“Indeed. It’s a sight different from the mist and clouds you saw surrounding the Undoor Highland earlier today, different from any mist we know—a fearful, baleful storm of death!”
According to Togoto, each droplet of that mist was sharp and pointed like a blade, and all foolish enough to fly through it were pierced until they bled to death.
“No matter how strong the wings of the karulakin, none may fly when torn to rags! Only the great dragon warriors covered with hardened scale armor might hope to penetrate such a mist. It is said that the few remaining dragonkin in this world live upon a small island in the sea in the midst of this mist. Thus, we see them only when they choose to venture out, and then only rarely.”
Wataru thrust his hand into his trousers pocket, and felt the red scale Jozo had given him. So it was an unusual thing to meet a dragon, even in this world. A chance encounter.
“The merchant sailships catch the winds sent by the Goddess to ply their way from north to south and back, but even then sometimes the Stinging Mist sweeps low across the sea and blocks their passage. When the mist drops, all hands must leave the sails and oars and hide below deck, lest they be ripped painfully and bloodily apart!”
Night fell before long, and stars twinkled into existence above Wataru’s head. A blanket of darkness covered the land. Wataru shivered in the night wind and lifted the collar on his cotton jacket.
From there on, he slumped in his seat, unsure of how far and how fast they flew. But it was not too long before he saw a cluster of lights below. Wataru blinked.
“Lanka, capital city of Bog!” Togoto announced.
That’s where Meena lived.
“Sakawa is close, a little way to the northwest. We should see it soon. The merchant city of Lanka knows no darkness, even in the depths of night, but the waterkin of Sakawa can see in the dark, and shun wasteful use of lamp oil. It will be more difficult to see from the sky.”
With the lights of Lanka on their left, Togoto swept his wings to the east and descended even farther. The wind brushing against Wataru’s cheek was salty with the taste of sea brine.
“There, Highlander! The town of Sakawa!”
Wataru leaned forward in his basket, but at first all he could see was more darkness. Soon, they passed over a narrow beach. Even in the darkness he could see the white ridges of the waves as they crashed against the shore. Togoto went out over the sea, then slowly curved back, his speed dropping as they descended.
And there was the town. Wataru saw thatched roofs and the outlines of buildings. Here and there hung what looked like signs. And in corrals throughout town were more darbabas than he had ever seen before.
Chapter 27
The Reunion
In the dark streets beneath him, Wataru saw waterkin on the roads and in corrals taking care of darbabas. Clusters of houses stood open to the air, screens made of long rushes hanging from the roofs in place of walls. Waterkin lifted the screens and looked out. There were similar houses along the shore, with verandas sticking out over the waves, where waterkin sat around tables talking and drinking.
“Oy! A karulakin! A karulakin’s come!”
“He’s got a passenger!”
Waterkin shuffled out into the center of town, waving toward Togoto.
“Settle down on the dunes to the west!”
“Aye!” Togoto replied as they flew out over the spray where white waves crashed against the rocks. They alit on a beach of white sand. The waves were gentler here.
“Highlander!” Togoto cried from above him. “As soon as your feet touch ground, leave your chair! Tarry too long, and I’ll land on top of you!”
The sea spray wetted Wataru’s face. His foot touched to the sand for an instant. Then both feet connected softly, and Wataru leapt, rolling off to one side. Behind him, Togoto came to an expert landing.
Shhhhh Shhhhh Shhhhh…
The waves of the night sea rolled soothingly in, sounding like a gentle lullaby.
“We made great time!” Togoto chortled, folding his wings behind him. “A good trip, a very good trip.”
“It was. Thank you!”
Several waterkin were coming in along the shore. One among them was particularly large, and he jumped and waved both hands. “Oy! Ooooy!”
Wataru knew who it was even before his voice reached them. He began to run across the sand, stumbling a bit until he had run off the numbness in his legs from the journey. “Kee Keema!”
“Wataru! It is you!”
Wataru jumped into the beaming waterkin’s arms. Kee Keema snatched him effortlessly out of the air, lifting him up over his head and spinning him around. “My lucky Traveler! You made it! I knew you’d make it!”
Then, from Kee Keema’s shoulder, Wataru saw another familiar face in the crowd rushing toward them. “Meena!”
There was so much he wanted to say and so much he wanted to ask.
Kee Keema lived in a small house near the shore, a simple affair with a roof fashioned from the giant leaves of some indigenous tree. The leaves resembled giant palm fronds, and, as Wataru soon discovered, were used for flooring, roofing, and even some tableware. The leaves also doubled as fans for relief on hot and sticky days.
The three sat in the small house, listening to the sound of the waves. They talked abou
t everything that had happened since they were separated at the Triankha Hospital. As they chatted, Kee Keema’s neighbors and friends dropped by with stewed fruits, giant roast slabs of meat, savory roasted fish, and sweet water in vessels made of carved wood.
Slowly, they pieced together the puzzle of what had happened at the hospital. Kee Keema and Meena had regained consciousness not long after Wataru was taken away.
“One of those arrows wasn’t enough to keep a big fellow like myself down for too long,” Kee Keema boasted.
“Luckily, one only grazed me,” Meena added.
“Anyway, when we regained consciousness, you were gone. Oh, Meena cried something fierce,” Kee Keema said, chuckling.
“Don’t exaggerate,” Meena snapped.
“Hrm? It’s the truth.”
“I was just worried.”
“It’s okay, I was worried too,” Wataru said with a smile.
“We ended up getting lost in the sula woods. I think it was on account of the trees, but no matter how far we walked, we always seemed to end up in the same place. And weirder still, whenever we caught a glimpse of the hospital we’d try to make for it but couldn’t seem to get any closer.”
“That forest was bad news,” said Meena, frowning. “I got so dizzy, I was seeing two Kee Keemas, and believe me, one is enough!” Meena chuckled, but her mirth didn’t last long. “And there was that sound, like singing…”
“I remember looking at Meena and seeing her face go all twisty, like this!” Kee Keema said, taking his hands and squashing his face like a pancake. Wataru laughed out loud, but inside, he shivered, remembering what the man who fired arrows on them had said.
—Toss the other two. They’ll never be able to survive the woods.
“We were in a bit of a fix, no two ways about it. If we’d stayed out there, that sula forest would have gotten the better of us both. I figure we would have walked ourselves to death.”
Brave Story Page 51