“As if you needed to ask,” Mon growled. “I’ll go with them myself.”
But Jin stepped forward. “Let me do it, sir.”
“And me, sir,” Zen added quietly.
Mon nodded. If there were two, at least one of them could always contact him, and his first duty was to report immediately to the Mikado and the Master Star Reader and let them know what had transpired. Once that decision was made, everything fell rapidly into place. “We’ll leave the badly wounded here,” Mon said. “Taga, Sune, you stay with them through the night. I’ll take the magic weaver to the capital. As soon as we reach it, I’ll send help. If her story is true, that thing with the claws is after the prince, so it shouldn’t attack those of you who stay here. All right?”
The Hunters nodded. Jin and Zen set off silently with Balsa and Tanda while Mon and Torogai started off at a run toward the capital. Theirs was an amazing journey. They were more than thirty miles from the capital at Kosenkyo, separated from it by rugged mountains that would normally take even the Hunters half a day to travel; but they raced through the crags as if they were running across a flat plain. While Torogai was amazingly strong for someone over seventy, she could not run all the way without resting, and when evening approached and she began to tire, Mon carried her on his back.
Mon could not stop thinking about the First Prince, who was still critically ill. It was all very well to talk about this Nyunga-whatever and its egg, but if anything should happen to the First Prince, then Chagum would be the Mikado’s sole remaining heir. He must be protected at all costs. As he sped along the mountain path in the pitch dark, Mon suddenly wondered if his own ancestors had once run through the mountains like this, hunting the same beast two hundred years ago.
It was almost dawn when they finally reached the capital. Torogai, who had slept most of the way on his back, felt greatly revived, but Mon was so exhausted he thought he would collapse. They were guided to the secret room under the Mikado’s chambers, but the Master Star Reader was unable to meet them: The First Prince had taken a turn for the worse, and he could not leave his side. Torogai had just cursed him roundly when a young Star Reader entered the room.
It was Shuga. Mon was startled by his appearance; he looked like an invalid who was wasting away, his face pallid and his cheeks sunken. Still, he listened attentively to what Mon told him, nodding at the end of his report. “Thank goodness you made it in time,” he said. “Sending you on ahead to Aoike Pond was the right decision. You did well, Mon. I’ll send word as soon as the Master Star Reader returns. In the meantime, you should get some rest.”
Mon hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was all right to leave this young Star Reader alone with the magic weaver — he looked so drawn and frail. But the Master Star Reader obviously trusted him to act in his place, and the firm set of his jaw and shrewd expression convinced Mon that he could handle Torogai. He bowed. “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate the opportunity to rest.”
When Mon had left the room, Shuga turned to the old magic weaver and said, “You must be Torogai. I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time.”
She snorted derisively. “What about Rarunga?” she demanded. “Did you find out how to destroy it?”
Shuga shook his head, his face grave.
“What?” Torogai exclaimed. “Don’t tell me you don’t know!”
A flicker of anger passed across Shuga’s face, but it vanished quickly into an expression of deep anxiety and fatigue. “No, I don’t know. Or rather, I could not find out — because Nanai and Torugaru didn’t destroy Rarunga.”
Torogai’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “They didn’t destroy it? Then how could the egg have hatched safely?”
“Magic weaver of the Yakoo, Nanai’s memoirs are written in ancient Yogoese. There are parts I cannot completely comprehend. I was able to decipher up to where the egg was born, and I also gathered that Rarunga is a kind of creature that lives in the mud of a land called Nayugu. But there are too many letters and words that I don’t understand.”
Torogai leaned forward eagerly. “Perhaps it uses a lot of Yakoo names for things. Tell me that part and maybe I can help you.”
Shuga nodded, and they settled on the floor. Torogai thought that Shuga would have to go and get the memoirs, but to her surprise, the Star Reader closed his eyes and began to recite from memory.
“Siguru — the Yakoo child who bore the egg of Nyunga Ro Im — went to Aoike Pond and ate the shigu salua. As the magic weavers and I made to follow in the child’s footsteps, we were attacked by Rarunga….” Shuga spoke smoothly, flawlessly interpreting the ancient Yogoese into modern vernacular while preserving the rhythm of the old language. Torogai felt her skin crawl as she realized that what had happened to them yesterday was exactly what had happened two centuries ago.
“Siguru escaped into a tree and thus was he saved. The magic weavers wove their charms to see the world of Nayugu. ‘This is an ill-fated spot,’ they cried, and carrying Siguru on their backs, they escaped from that land. Rarunga, they said, could smell the egg and track the scent from Siguru’s feet, which penetrated the land of Nayugu; wherefore they bore him on their backs.”
Torogai slapped her knee and exclaimed, “Of course, the smell. The nectar from the shigu salua must transfer its scent to the egg! Ah! How stupid of me!”
Shuga continued, ignoring her outburst. “Siguru reached the land of Sahnan as midsummer drew nigh. Oh, beautiful Sahnan with its bubbling blue spring, source of the Aoyumi River! A small spring it was, but in this summer when drought gripped all the land, its pure water was the single thread of life for all living things. There a thousand birds, a thousand creatures slaked their thirst …
“But in the land of Nayugu, Sahnan was a great muddy swamp spreading endlessly in all directions. This, this was the very home of Rarunga. Brave Siguru! Boldly did he set foot on Sahnan.
“Now was the time to do as had been done since ancient times — to bear four bright torches and surround Sahnan, keeping Rarunga at bay. But woe betide us, for the power of Nyunga Ro Im that lay inside Siguru created a white mist over the water’s source, and try though we might to light the torches, it was to no avail.
“Ah, woe! We could do naught but bewail our helplessness as Rarunga’s claws rent Siguru asunder….”
Torugai’s head jerked up suddenly. “What?! You mean he died? You’re telling me that he was killed?!”
Shuga nodded, his face grim. “Yes, the boy died. I expect that this is why, in our legend, the blood of the boy possessed by the demon runs into the water’s source.”
Torogai gnashed her teeth. “Damn! How could this be true? When I asked the Water Dwellers of Nayugu about it many, many years ago, they told me the egg hatched and the Yakoo boy didn’t die.”
“Is that so? And did they tell you how Rarunga was destroyed?”
“They didn’t know! Besides, it’s impossible to talk with them for very long because it’s so hard to stay between Sagu and Nayugu.”
Shuga shook his head slowly. “Then perhaps some children in the past did survive. But the boy two hundred years ago died.”
“Well then, what about the egg? Was it eaten?”
Shuga groaned. “No. That’s just it. It wasn’t. Magic weaver, do you know of a creature called nahjiru? In fact, I don’t even know if it’s a creature. It may be another name for the wind.”
“Nahjiru? Nahjiru. No, I’ve never heard of it.”
Shuga frowned. “You don’t know? Of all people, I thought that you at least would be able to tell me. If I knew what it was, I would understand a little better what happened.”
“Well, I’m sorry! You’re not the only one who’s disappointed, you know. But tell me what that part says, the part with the nahjiru in it.”
Shuga nodded and, closing his eyes once again, began reciting from the memoirs.
“The Yakoo magic weaver, heeding not his own safety, leapt inside Rarunga’s claws, snatched the egg from the torn body of Siguru,
and threw it up, up into the heavens. Then came the nahjiru, and seizing the egg, it sped south far across the sky. Ah, this, in truth, is the law of the universe. The egg carried by nahjiru is returned to the deep, deep sea to breathe clouds into the heavens….
“Ah, this, in truth, is the law of the universe. Soft clouds billow in the heavens of Sagu, sweet rain falls to revive the earth.”
Torogai, who had been lost in thought, suddenly exclaimed, “That’s it! Of course! Now I understand. That’s what it’s all about. Damn!” She groaned. Shuga leaned forward eagerly.
“You understand? What is this nahjiru? Tell me.”
Torogai raised her face and hit the floor with her fist. “What a fool I’ve been! How can I call myself a magic weaver when I didn’t even notice something like this?” She fixed Shuga with a piercing stare and told him what nahjiru meant, and how they could defeat Rarunga according to the passage he had just recited.
When she had finished, Shuga’s face was even paler. How could he have missed this vital point when he had spent so much time studying Nanai’s memoirs? It was ironic: Torogai had read too much into the Star Readers’ schemes, while Shuga had totally dismissed the Yakoo lore. As a result, they had both overlooked the wisdom concealed within something the two cultures shared: the ancient midsummer festival.
“I’ve failed,” Shuga said. “It’s too far to reach Sahnan now. Even if this method succeeds, we have no way of telling them in time.”
Torogai stood up. “There is one way, though I don’t know whether it will work or not. Still, it’s worth a try.”
“What is it?”
“I can ask the Water Dwellers of Nayugu to take them a message. I’m sure my apprentice will understand it.” She turned abruptly to look at Shuga’s puzzled, anxious face. “I doubt I’ll have another chance to speak like this with a Star Reader, so I’m going to be frank while I have the chance. This time, don’t try to hide the truth just for the sake of your stupid politics. I can’t stand the thought of putting people through this same ordeal a hundred years from now.”
Shuga averted his eyes for a second, then met her gaze squarely. “I’ll do my best. Let me promise you this, Yakoo magic weaver: When I become Master Star Reader someday, I will find a way to make sure the truth is passed down.” Torogai’s mouth, which had been clamped in a stern line, softened slightly. Seeing this, Shuga added, as if it had just occurred to him, “I also have a request. Will you teach me the knowledge of the Yakoo in which Master Star Reader Nanai was so interested?”
Torogai’s eyes widened. “Well now, that’s an interesting thing for a Star Reader to say. It’s a deal, if you’ll teach me about Tendo in return.”
It was Shuga’s turn to look surprised. “You still want to learn new things even at your age?”
“Of course! But you’d better be careful. If anyone finds out you’re interested in Yakoo lore, you’ll never get to be Master Star Reader. Be clever about it. And if you want to learn about the Yakoo, then you’ll have to let me go unharmed.” She cackled. “Making up stories is your strong point, right? I’m counting on you to come up with a good story that doesn’t hurt the prince’s reputation but still includes us. This won’t wait until you’re Master Star Reader, either, so you’d better get cracking.”
Shuga stared at her silently for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll do my best,” he said.
After Torogai and Mon left, Balsa and the others went to the Aoyumi River and tried to decide whether Chagum had gone upstream or downstream. Mist no longer drifted along the river beach, which was growing dim in the twilight.
“I thought you said that after it’s born, Nyunga Ro Im grows up in the sea. If that’s true, wouldn’t it make sense for Chagum to follow the river down to its mouth?” Balsa asked.
Tanda started to nod when his eyes were caught by something on the dry, rocky riverbed. “Is that the remains of a campfire?”
Balsa peered between the rocks and said impatiently, “Yes, but so what? Chagum couldn’t have lit it, so shouldn’t we be …” But he ignored her and ran over to it. Crouching down, he stared at it fixedly and showed no sign of budging. Balsa clicked her tongue in exasperation, glanced briefly at the Hunters, and then hurried over to him. “Tanda!”
He looked up at her slowly. “Balsa, I know where he’s gone. He’s heading for Sahnan.”
“Sahnan?”
Tanda brushed the dirt from his knees and stood up. “The head of the Aoyumi River. ‘Sahnan’ means ‘water’s source’ in Yakoo. The Yakoo always draw water from Sahnan for the midsummer festival, so this fire was set by villagers traveling upstream to get it. See? They’ve thrown salt on the fire to purify it.” His gaze slowly sharpened, focusing on something no one else could see. “Fire! The midsummer festival! Damn!”
The glare he fixed then on Balsa and the men behind her was so fierce he seemed like a different person. “What a fool I’ve been! Earth is stronger than water, fire is stronger than earth — it’s the most basic rule of magic weaving. Nyunga Ro Im is the Water Guardian, so its eggs are vulnerable to the earth spirit, Rarunga. And Rarunga’s weakness must therefore be fire! Damn! Torogai and I thought that the midsummer festival had been completely changed by the first Mikado. That blinded us to the truth. Why do you think they use torches in the midsummer festival? The way they swing them at the demon is a symbol of how they defeated Rarunga!”
“Ah!” his three listeners exclaimed in unison. A vision of the drama reenacted throughout the land during the midsummer festival flashed through their minds: the wildly dancing water demon; the four men surrounding it, whirling their torches in the air; the hero portraying Mikado Torugaru, slaying the cornered demon with a final blow.
“In the legend of Torugaru, the water demon is destroyed at a spring.” Tanda looked back at the forest where they had been attacked by Rarunga and pointed. “If Chagum intended to go to the river’s mouth, he would have gone that way when he came out of the forest. But Balsa, the path you took when you followed him leads this way.” His finger traced the route until it pointed straight upstream. “To the river’s source. Sahnan.”
They strode off in the direction he indicated and kept moving even after the sun set and the river was enveloped in darkness. The moon, which was almost full, lit up the river so brightly that walking presented no difficulty for the travelers. Halfway through the night, however, they left the chilly river and went a short distance into the forest to light a fire and set up camp. Tanda insisted that if they were to be ready to fight, they needed to rest rather than to press recklessly onward; and despite their haste, they knew he was right.
Balsa broke branches and fed them to the fire. Although it was summer, nights in the mountains were still cold. “We’re an odd bunch, aren’t we?” she remarked, looking at the men around the fire. Jin and Zen chewed their dried meat wordlessly. Both had once fought her for their lives, and she had expected them to feel some bitterness toward her, yet she could detect no animosity in their expressions.
Jin swallowed his mouthful and looked at Tanda. “What are you? You look like you have Yakoo blood. Are you a magic weaver like that Torogai?”
“I’m just an apprentice — a petty magic weaver. My name is Tanda. And, as I’m sure you already know, this intimidating spear-woman is Balsa.”
“We never really introduced ourselves, did we? My name’s Jin, and this is Zen.”
Tanda burst out laughing. “What? You mean your names are the numbers two and three?”
Jin smiled wryly. “That’s because we’re Hunters at the moment. Those are the names we use for now.” He hesitated and then added, “If you hadn’t pushed me out of the way, I’d have been killed by Rarunga’s claws. I owe you my life.”
Tanda looked taken aback, but then he nodded and said, “Don’t mention it. I didn’t even know it was you I was pushing.”
Jin’s smile widened. “I’ll repay you someday,” he said. “But if you’re a magic weaver, does that mean you could see what t
hat monster looked like?”
Tanda’s face clouded. “Yes, I saw it, just for a second. It looked like a cross between a spider and a sea anemone — six legs, six giant claws on its back, a mouth filled with tentacles like whips. It was enormous, but it swam through the mud amazingly fast.”
“How do you think it found Chagum?” Balsa asked. Jin and Zen were visibly startled to hear her say the prince’s name without his title, but she ignored them. “It definitely tracked him down and attacked him, but it didn’t notice when he got up in the trees and made his way to the river. Do you think it makes a difference if his feet are actually touching the ground?”
“I bet that’s it. Rarunga is an earth spirit. From the way it moved, it’s probably pretty agile in soil or mud, but I think it would be difficult for it to travel over hard surfaces like rock. You said a mist covered the water after Chagum dived in the river, right? If the egg is in control of his body, then it’s probably using water to escape from Rarunga. But even if we use fire, Rarunga can hide in Nayugu. It would be easy if we could attack it in that other world, but not even we magic weavers can do that. I have no idea what will happen at the spring. I just know we have to find a way to protect Chagum….”
“You told us that it has a mouth,” Balsa said, “so it will have to come here if it wants to eat him. We’ll just have to attack it when it shows itself.”
“But there’s no guarantee of that. It could just grab him with its tentacles and vanish into Nayugu.”
Their conversation continued late into the night. As Balsa, Jin, and Zen were all experts in combat and warfare, the ideas flew. They discussed the best ways to use fire and exploit it to their advantage. Finally their talk began to slow, and Tanda rubbed his face. The stubble on his chin made a rasping sound. “What an awful day! I’m so tired. You guys sure are tough. Do you mind if I go to bed?”
Guardian of the Spirit Page 15