The Book of Heroes

by Miyuki Miyabe

  “Not the original. That was a copy of a copy of a copy. Books deteriorate over time. If only their contents deteriorated as well.”

  Ash had finished brewing his medicine. He stood, taking a vial small enough to fit in the palm of his hand out of the drawer by the table along with a piece of white paper that had been cut into a square.

  “Ash,” she said. “Were you there?”

  Ash stopped what he was doing.

  “The weaver who wrote you wrote about Kirrick’s war too. Where did you fit into the story?”

  Ash smiled then, much to U-ri’s surprise. “You remembered about the weaver.”

  U-ri felt her palms begin to sweat. “I couldn’t help but get the feeling that you knew Kirrick when you talked about him.”

  His smile widened. “You have good instincts.”

  Next to them, Sky gasped, startled.

  “Kirrick’s family was poor, but being nobles, they had territory. It was nothing much: a cold village deep in the mountains called Danae. Kirrick’s father had been a caring lord to his people, rare for the time. He had even waived taxes in years when crops fell short. No doubt contributing to his family’s relative poverty.”

  Kirrick had been an only son, and his mother had died soon after giving birth to him.

  “He was raised by a nursemaid. The nursemaid had a child of her own, newly born. That child was me.” A distant look came into Ash’s eyes. “We studied the ways of magic together. In those days, an old hermit lived in Danae Village who had once been chief among the palace mages. His name was Master Brann. He had been a powerful mage in his day—extremely powerful—but he had grown weary of palace politics and infighting. Thanks to him, Kirrick and I were able to learn much magic from an early age. Even things they did not teach in the royal academy.”

  It was Master Brann who had helped Kirrick find the scroll that contained the partial Book of Elem, and it was he who helped him complete his own version in later years.

  “When Kirrick began his rebellion, I intended to go with him. But he asked me instead to stay in Danae. He wanted me to look after the village and Master Brann.”

  “They will surely need your protection should my rebellion fail.”

  “Throughout the struggle, I never had cause to go to the capital. It was not long between the time when the rebellion ended in success and the fiends reached the mountains of my village.”

  By the time they managed to drive off the creatures, the village had lost more than half of its population.

  “Word of Kirrick’s death came soon after. Master Brann took his own life. I think he planned on doing that from the start. He’d made a special poison for the occasion.”

  But Master Brann had left Ash with his knowledge—including knowledge of the nameless land and of the King in Yellow.

  “It wasn’t Kirrick who had been possessed by the King in Yellow. It was Master Brann. He thought that by lending his power to that clear-eyed lad, he could bring eternal peace to the Haetlands and fortune to its people. Master Brann’s heart wished this, and it called out to the Hero…which brings us to now.”

  Ash spread his hands, as if to show he had given all he had to offer. Silence fell on the room. U-ri didn’t know what to say next. Aju was curled up in a ball on the floor.

  “What of the graves?” It was Sky’s voice that broke the silence. “What of all the graves surrounding this house, and the child Udsu’s extraordinary strength and agility? You said these things were related to your tale.”

  U-ri turned her eyes to Ash. “So I did, nameless devout,” Ash said. His gaze was cold. “And here I thought your head was empty.”

  “Would you quit talking to him like that?” U-ri interrupted. “Sky is my servant, but he’s also my friend.”

  Ash turned away, looking out through the clouded window. “Remember what I said about the creatures eating humans? They would always start with the head, and not stop until every last bit was consumed. But sometimes, rarely, a person so attacked would be saved with only injuries. These people, the survivors, developed strange abilities in the following months and years.”

  They grew incredibly strong. They could see in the middle of the night as though it were day. Their hearing improved to the point that they could hear someone talking on the other side of a mountain.

  “The venom of the creatures flowed into their bodies, and in time, it changed them.”

  “And they all became supermen?” U-ri asked hopefully. “That doesn’t sound bad at all.”

  Ash shook his head. “It didn’t last long. Those affected would die in two or three years after their powers manifested themselves.”

  “Oh. That does sound bad.”

  “Most sane people avoided touching the bodies of the affected. They didn’t want to burn them either, because that would be treating them no better than they had treated the creatures. It is our custom here in the Haetlands to bury our dead whole. Gradually, a business started up of collecting the corpses. That was my work here. Dmitri the undertaker, they called me.”

  “But this all happened fifty-seven years ago, didn’t it? How could those people still be around if the transformation killed them?”

  “They are still among us. You saw Udsu yourself.”

  Udsu’s great-grandfather had been bitten as a young boy, but his powers did not manifest for years. He took a wife and had children. These children grew, married, and had children of their own—and all of them were affected.

  “So…” U-ri began in a timid voice. “It’s hereditary?”

  “Yes. That’s why it does not end.”

  Yet those who manifested their powers were dwindling in number by the year. It was rare for children as young as Udsu to manifest powers so early. Most only learned they were affected by the time they were grown with children of their own.

  “I believe the creatures’ venom is acting to preserve itself—to keep replicating itself down through the bloodline.”

  That makes it sound like the venom has a will of its own!

  “Udsu is shunned here in Kanal. The other villagers fear him. He lives with his mother in a small shack outside the village.”

  “So you’re his only friend, then.”

  She expected him to brush the comment off, but what he said surprised everyone. “And Dmitri has no friends save Udsu.”

  There was silence again. Aju hopped off of U-ri’s shoulder, snuck down through her robes up to the other side of her head, and stuck his nose in her ear. “Hey, U-ri,” he whispered. “You know, I’ve been thinking, maybe this Ash guy isn’t so bad after all.”

  U-ri put a hand over her mouth and smiled. Ash was too busy putting medicine in the pouch he’d fashioned from the small square of paper to notice. U-ri smiled at Sky—then froze.

  Sky was standing stiff as a board, a dark look on his face. U-ri wondered if what Ash had said before about his head being empty had offended him. Or maybe he’s frozen solid. It was still terribly cold in the room.

  “We leave for the capital tomorrow,” Ash said, his fingers busily working. “Rest well tonight. It will be a hard road.”

  “Why don’t we just jump there,” Aju suggested, pointing to the glyph on the floor.

  “U-ri cannot take us all there by her power alone. And I have business along the way, besides.”

  U-ri thought to ask him what but decided he probably wouldn’t tell her anyway. She was tired, besides, and wanted to rest.

  “Okay,” she said, and that was that.

  CHAPTER TEN

  In Search of Clues

  U-ri woke up early, the sunlight bright in her eyes.

  She had slept through the night remarkably well considering that she was lying on the hard floor by the fireplace and was wrapped in a scratchy old blanket. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a square of blue sky. There was a small skylight in the ceiling above her head that she hadn’t even noticed in the gloom of the day before.

  The cold seemed to have subsided
somewhat, though she wasn’t sure whether it was because the weather had turned or because of the vestments of protection. U-ri sprang to her feet and ran over to the window to look outside. The village, dismal in the cold falling snow the day before, now looked bright and tranquil, almost beautiful. On the houses around their hill, thin blankets of snow were spread across the rooftops down to the eaves like elegant lace. From the smoke rising from several chimneys, she saw that the day had already begun in Kanal. Here and there windows and storehouse doors hung open.

  She heard a noise downstairs and skipped down the steps. Sky was standing next to the stove, in which a merry fire burned.

  “Lady U-ri. You’re awake.”

  She wondered if Sky had slept at all. He looked pale.

  “Morning, U-ri,” Aju squeaked from atop one of the kitchen shelves where he sat nibbling on a leaf he held in his tiny fingers. “You sleep well?”

  “Quite well, actually.”

  The door opened, and Ash came in with a small bundle of firewood under one arm. Ash was fully dressed for the day, but his hair was loose and disheveled. Its halo made him look even taller and skinnier than usual, like a beanpole topped by a scarecrow’s wig.

  “You’re up early.”

  “It’s so bright outside today. And the sky’s so pretty. I had no idea.” U-ri smiled at the devout. “You know I named Sky here after the blue skies in my region—he seemed to like them so much. But I’m afraid my region’s got nothing on the sky in this village.” She turned to the devout. “Have you been outside?”

  Sky smiled weakly. “No, that's all right. It was enough for me to look out the window.”

  “It’s unusual for the sky to be this clear during the winter—a noteworthy event,” Ash said. “Thanks to you, no doubt.”

  U-ri lifted an eyebrow. “Me?”

  “That glyph on your forehead has worked to drive back the evil clinging to this land.”

  U-ri put her palm to her forehead and stared at him.

  “Go down to the river and wash your face. Watch your step, the path is very slippery.”

  At the small river, U-ri noticed that the water was crystal clear, but she could see no fish. Maybe it’s too clear for them?

  She caught a glimpse of some of the villagers. A line of men was leaving the village, heading up toward the mountains—hunters, most likely. They carried bows on their backs and something like rifles across their shoulders. Their thick boots trod heavily on the hard-frozen ground.

  She saw women too. They wore long, brightly colored skirts, and stoles across their shoulders to keep away the cold. Some used brooms to sweep up around the houses, while others led horses from their stalls to brush their coats, or walked down to the pens to feed the livestock, or carried large buckets of water back to their homes for cooking. She heard animal noises coming from the stalls that sounded just like the pigs and cows of her world. If they have horses, the other livestock here is probably the same as ours too, she reasoned. Though there was magic and monsters and royalty, and no electricity, the Haetlands seemed to have the same sort of people and animals as U-ri’s region. Which means that the weaver who made the Haetlands was familiar with horses and cows and pigs. Maybe they were even from my region.

  The sound of laughter drifted up from one of the stalls at the bottom of the hill. Two women were standing outside and talking across a hedgerow. Even at a distance, she could see the smiles on their faces. Looks like the weather has everyone in a good mood.

  For the first time, U-ri actually felt proud of the mark on her forehead. The words of the creature she had met in the library at Hiroki’s school crossed her mind.

  “Why must it always be children who know not even the true value of the mark upon their heads who seek to bring balance to the Circle?”

  Is this what it meant by value?

  She touched a finger to her forehead.

  Her mark had been able to damage the envoy of the King in Yellow. It had revived the unconscious girl Michiru Inui. And here, it had pushed back the evil clinging to the land, bringing a rare spell of good weather.

  Ash had said that wolves need the allcaste’s power. They needed the power of the glyph—her mark. That was her mark’s purpose. Yet what the creature had said made her think there was more to it than just that.

  Crouching by the small river, U-ri looked at her own reflection in the water and thought. Value…

  “Lady U-ri?”

  U-ri looked up to see Sky coming down the path rapidly, his black robes swept back behind him.

  U-ri stood and waved. “Come look, the water’s beautiful. And the air here’s so fresh.”

  She took a deep breath. Sky’s pace slowed as he came nearer. He was looking around, wide-eyed.

  “Look up at the sky! Isn’t it gorgeous?”

  The devout hesitated at first, then finally looked up. He didn’t blink once—even though he was staring right at the sun.

  “Doesn’t it just make you feel alive to be here?”

  What’s wrong, Sky? He hadn’t said a word. His face was still grim. He was so impressed with the sky in my smoggy region—surely the sky here is ten times as impressive.

  “Do you not like the Haetlands, Sky?”

  She could understand why he might not, after their history lesson the night before.

  “Lady U-ri, this region exists within a story. It’s an imaginary world.”

  “I know that. But for the people who live here, it’s real enough. What if my region had been made by some weaver? It would certainly feel real to me.”

  “I understand how you might think that, but you are mistaken,” Sky said, no trace of humor on his face. “The place from which you come is the only reality, the Circle, in which all other regions exist. It is different from other places,” the devout quietly explained, his voice only just audible over the burbling of the brook and the twittering of small birds from the forest around the village.

  “That and the nameless land, right? That’s a real place too, isn’t it?”

  Sky turned his gaze from the sun finally. A wave of indecision crossed his features.

  “Sky?”

  “Lady U-ri,” Sky began, slowly—frightfully slowly—turning his face to look at her. “Lady U-ri, I…”

  Their eyes met. The devout’s eyes caught the morning sun and glimmered a bright purple, the color of violets in early spring. “I—” he began again. He swallowed. “No, it is nothing.”

  That was certainly not nothing. What were you going to say, Sky? Are you hiding something?

  “Let us return. Master Ash seemed in a hurry to be off.”

  Sky turned and practically fled back up the hill. U-ri had to run to keep up with him. She wanted to ask what it was he had been about to say, but she was too out of breath even to call out.

  Aju recommended the leaves he had been nibbling on, so U-ri sat down to share in a “typical village breakfast” with Ash. Even though the vestments of protection kept her stomach full, she was still curious—a curiosity she soon regretted.

  “You’re accustomed to richer foods than this, I see,” Ash commented with a smirk.

  “I guess you’re right,” U-ri said, still gagging on the gruel. “I always thought what I ate was pretty normal.”

  They cleared the bowls, then Ash spread out a large scroll on the table. It was a map of the Haetlands. There were mountains and rivers, towns and villages. The borders of the country looked like a slightly warped oval, and near the southern edge had been drawn the large picture of a castle.

  “The capital, Elemsgard,” Ash announced, jabbing a finger at it.

  “Does that have something to do with the Book of Elem?”

  “Very good. It used to have a different name, but it was changed after Kirrick’s rebellion.”

  In the old language of the Haetlands, the name meant “the grave where Elem is buried,” Ash explained.

  “But aren’t capitals usually in the middle of the country? And why call a city a ‘grave
’?”

  “Because that is where the mage Elem is buried, and where the Book of Elem that Kirrick possessed was kept under careful guard.”

  “Is that so?” Aju asked, giving the castle a light smack of his tail. “Too bad the Book of Elem isn’t still there.”

  “That’s right. Someone took it from its place of safekeeping, and it passed from hand to hand, until it reached the library of Ichiro Minochi.”

  “Who took it?”

  “I do not know, nor does it matter now. Probably some greedy minister, or a warrior-mage charged with the book’s protection. As we cannot turn back time to prevent the book from being stolen in the first place, there is little point in finding out who it was now.”

  Ash was evidently a realist, first and foremost.

  “Still, I’m surprised,” Aju squeaked. “This mage Elem was the source of so much evil, yet they still gave her a proper burial?”

  “To be more precise, the capital is where the severed head of Elem was brought after the success of Kirrick’s rebellion. It was not buried so much as put on display that others might take a lesson from it. A powerful spell of binding was placed on the gravestone,” Ash explained.

  “What about King Altius?” U-ri asked. “Did they do the same to him? Yesterday you said that they threw out all the records of his time, but they still called him the victor-king, right?”

  Ash turned his half-lidded eyes toward U-ri. “The king’s grave remained where it was. There are few willing to disturb the remains of royalty.”

  “So Elem got to shoulder all the blame, then.” Aju had called Elem the “source of so much evil,” but that seemed a bit harsh to U-ri. She had only researched the spell she used in the first place to protect the Haetlands, and she had given the king fair warning before using it. If anyone were to blame, it would be King Altius.

  If he had only been a bit more cautious, or the situation his country faced a bit less perilous, Elem might have gone down in history as a revered contributor to their victory in the continental wars. Certainly not put on display five hundred years after being put to death of her own free will. She would have been nothing but brittle bones by then. Yet they dug her up, carried her to the capital, and shamed her memory.