by Mark Teppo
Years earlier an acolyte killed another child. She’d his soul ripped from his body and sealed in an iron doll.
But none of the order’s punishments were so horrifying as the one reserved for those who killed a master priest.
The Socius.
Even the priests spoke of the spell in whispered tones. Ayu had heard that it combined each archangel’s designation: control and destruction, friendship and vengeance, Healing, communication and creation. It took seven priests, seven archangels to create the Socius demon.
The students who dared whisper of it called it Tomo. Companion.
The demon was formed of pure nothingness. If they put the Tomo on her, nothing would matter anymore. Tomo existed solely for its target. It would never rest.
She’d once glimpsed the Socius spell in an illuminated text. It was surprisingly fast to create. The words were fuzzy, except for the last two, said in unison by all seven castors. Vocato comite.
"Deus meus." She froze in place and leaned against a tree.
She put her head against the bark and prayed to God for forgiveness. Averte faciem tuam a peccatis nostris, Domine, et omnes iniquitates meas dele.
She wished she could remember the small gods from her childhood, but she’d been in the order far too long.
Realization dawned on her slowly. Ice ran down her spine.
The order might slaughter her entire family.
She’d once had to watch a boy’s parents transformed into demons. All the acolytes stood frozen in the keep’s courtyard, forced to watch as his own family set upon him. She’d never learned his name. They’d never even told them his crime.
She turned back, still frozen by indecision. She could face the order, or escape and get word to her family.
"O, Deus." If she returned, they might drag in her family and kill them in front of her before they meted out her punishment.
Just ahead, through the trees, she saw the rice fields on the other side of a stream. Would her family remember her? She couldn’t remember their faces.
She pushed away from the tree and scrambled into the stream. It swirled around her calves. Cold mud sucked at her feet.
She stepped into a hole in the riverbed and fell, swallowing a mouthful of muddy water before she broke the surface again. She scrambled, sputtering, guessing at the direction of the opposite shore.
Once out from the water, she passed a twisted momi tree and was in the open rice field. The clouds finally broke, and the rows of rice paddies sparkled in the moonlight. In the distance, the smoky lights of Kyoto city created a dim sunset on the horizon. Just across the field lay the northern road, stretching away from the order.
The only possible decision was clear. She broke into a run along a path between two rice trenches. She would steal a cart and travel west to her family, warn them to pack and run.
She made it nearly halfway through the tall rice grass when the words swirled through her head. Seven voices. Seven Archangels.
Vocato comite.
Something passed her leg, fast and wet, like liquid wind.
She blinked, and the Tomo was before her.
Her feet just stopped. She couldn’t even register her fear before the Tomo rose from the ground. It raised in the form of a scarecrow, hands and head drooping. The black conical outline of a sugegasa hat on its head. It hung like a dead thing, inches above the dewy grass as if held by an invisible cross.
Neither she nor the horrible thing moved. The world around her fell silent.
All the power drained out of Ayu’s muscles, and she fell to her knees in the muck.
She was dead. The Tomo would be draw out the pain until it felt like forever. She hadn’t been aware that she’d started crying, but streams of tears dripped from her face.
So soon. She would never see her family again.
The scarecrow’s head lifted; its neck crackled like brittle leaves.
"Ignosco. Forgive," Ayu said.
From the dark shadow of the scarecrow’s face, words bubbled. "Why do you run, girl?" Its Japanese was perfect.
Ayu lowered her head and dug her hands into the soft ground. "Clementia."
The scarecrow’s arms lowered, fluidly, like melting. "Mercy? Girl, why do you run? Have you done something?"
She kept her head down, as if speaking to the dirt. "Mercy, Socius." The Latin word stuck in her mouth. "I did not mean it."
It flowed around her like tendrils, and her eyes shot open. She struggled, but the tendrils tightened like rope as its color muted and darkened until she was trapped in a web of shadow. A tendril slid up her side, and she felt hot breath next to her face, as if it was about to kiss her ear.
Mocking kindness riddled its whisper. "Girl, one does not kill an order master."
The tendrils released her arms, and she fell hard onto the muddy path. She covered her head with her hands, smearing mud in her hair. "It was self defense!"
With a wet sound, four, five mouths split open from the tendrils. When Ayu dared look up again, mouths spoke one after the other.
"One—"
"Does—"
"Not—"
Together they said, "Kill."
"Please," her words choked.
"Please," they mocked.
Ayu cried out, "Please, not now!"
One by one, the mouths smiled. A tendril snapped around her wrist and pulled her hand from her head.
"Oh, not now," one said.
Another tendril took her other hand.
"Not here," said the other.
The fear was so absolute that her mind drifted from her body, time seemed to freeze, and the silence parted to let music float in from the distance, a tinkling mist of chimes and bells.
Ayu dared look up, and found herself staring into the face of the Socius, the Tomo. It held her hand against itself, like a lover holding it to her heart. Its face was limitless black, except for a single remaining grin, a hole through which the moonlight shone. Through the gruesome smile, she saw a brightly decorated cart traveling the road far on the other side of the field. Ayu mumbled a prayer.
The hole closed. "Run, girl. Make it fun."
It made a small movement and snapped Ayu’s pinkie finger. Her consciousness returned to her body, and she screamed, in fear as much as pain.
The Socius melted into the mud, dropping her arms down with it. She sank into the muck. The blackness bubbled up and caressed her hands. A sloppy wet word frothed from the ground, "Run."
Ayu ran.
Somehow she spanned the path to the road. A covered cart rattled with bells and cans, twisted iron tools and glass balls lit from within by tiny candles.
She clutched her hand to her chest. The rice field behind her lay empty.
She shouted to the driver. "Please, a ride!"
The driver startled at her voice, but pointedly ignored her. It was not safe to speak to anyone running from the direction of Kirche Guregorī.
Wind raised from behind Ayu and blew muddy hair into her eyes. For a moment, she thought it was the Socius descending on her, but when she pushed the wet hair back she just saw the cart dancing in black shadows. It slowly withdrew. With one last look back at Kirche Guregorī, she ran after the cart, veering to the open flaps in the back.
A thin old man sat inside, sitting amongst planks of wood, piles of junk and vegetables. His clothes had perhaps once been fine; now they sported patches and mendings. Next to him lay a huge backpack, pieced together from leather and fabric. It looked as big as he was.
Ayu trotted after the cart. She grabbed at the wood lip with her good hand. The man silently watched her. His eyes twinkled.
"Please sir. Aid! I beg you."
The man in the cart sneered. He hefted a large, rotten taro root and threw it. "Away! Before you anger the trader and he boots me off with you."
Ayu grabbed at the planks in the floor. Her feet dragged on the road as she tried to pull herself on. The man threw a yam that swished past her head. Despite this, she scrambled u
p.
Finally the man moved. He snatched a broken piece of wood and stumbled to his feet.
Ayu’s breath came out in huffs against the wood planks, "There is . . . room forboth of us!"
The man said nothing for a moment. A stone in the road struck Ayu’s foot. Her grasp slipped.
"Ah, hell," He dropped the scrap of wood and grabbed Ayu’s shirt. His other calloused hand clamped on her wrist. Grunting and straining, he pulled the girl fully into the cart. She rolled over and kicked back until she sat huffing against the canvas wall. She pulled the hemp clothes close around her neck.
"Name’s Hageatama." The man sat back down next to his pack. "No conversation!" He put a protective arm on his pack and glared.
A bump in the road bounced Ayu’s pinkie against her knee. She moaned softly. The man looked away.
With some awkward struggle, she used her good hand to tug at the bottom seam in her shirt till a strip ripped away.
Her mind was too fuzzy to recall one of Raphael’s healing spells. Reciting a mishmash of psalms in her head, she wrapped the cloth around her broken finger. When she was finished, she looked up to see the man, Hageatama watching with keen interest.
Kirche Guregorī shrank in the distance behind them. She knew to be wary of this stranger, but soon it became difficult to keep her eyes open. As she drifted off, she sometimes thought she saw horrible shapes in the dust, but it might have been shadows in the moonlight.
She awoke in the hot dusty afternoon, startled awake by sharp poking in her ribs. Hageatama had the scrap of wood again. He looked no more pleasant than the night before.
"Running from the order, ain’t ya? Acolyte, I’d wager."
She swatted the wood away. "I thought you didn’t want to talk."
Hageatama crouched down to the cart floor. His knees made popping noises, and he sat back.
He studied the wood scrap and picked a piece off of it. "Bored."
Warm sunlight lit the canvas walls, filling the cart with yellow light and stifling air. Outside, the world rippled in the heat. Shadows played under trees and behind stones.
She put her head in her hands. If only last night had been a dream.
But her broken finger still throbbed. Her master was dead, and she was cursed.
Part of her welcomed the punishment. Students were expendable, masters could treat them as they liked. If Ayu had survived to become a master herself, she might have earned the right to exact revenge later, if she became powerful enough.
Had she joined the ranks of the powerful, she could have given her family anything. She rubbed her head until her stinging finger made her stop.
The Okayama daimyo himself was now a powerful Christian magician. Soon they all would be Christian. Ayu crossed herself.
Hageatama snorted, threw a yam out onto the dusty road. "Thought so. Must be sixteen, seventeen. You have the look of an acolyte."
"Eighteen, almost." Ayu closed her hands and winced, her broken finger gave another sharp reminder of the night before.
The old man looked away. He took off his hat to fan himself. Ayu almost smiled. Hageatama was an appropriate name for someone with such a hairless head.
Hageatama seemed to notice Ayu’s amusement. He shot Ayu a glare. "You hold with all that Christian stuff?"
Ayu’s face burned. She wanted to deny it. She had no reason to defend the order’s religion. She tried to name her family’s local gods, but her memory still failed her.
She looked away. "What do you believe?"
The man snorted. "Don’t believe in anything."
Ayu eyed the pile of vegetables. "I’m hungry," she said.
Hageatama grunted and put his hand into the pile. He tossed a tuber at Ayu.
From his pack, he produced a honyaki dagger. "Cut off the rotten parts."
It took her most of the day to admit to herself that she could never return to Tottori. Any contact with her family would only endanger them, if they were even still alive. The best thing she could do was travel as far from them as possible. A cold grief settled in her chest. She was truly alone.
When Hageatama jumped from the cart near the forest outside Higashiomi, she followed without thinking.
The old man turned and watched her get up from the dust, a bemused confusion on his face. "I’m not looking for a puppy."
He turned into the forest. She watched his back.
She couldn’t say why she felt compelled to follow the old man. He certainly wouldn’t bring any protection, not from a Socius. An army couldn’t help Ayu.
It took all she had to keep her knees from buckling. Soon enough she would sit down where she was. She’d wait there, frozen and hopeless until the Socius took her. She leaned toward Hageatama, feeling colder with each step he took.
The old man stopped, as if he read her thoughts. He didn’t turn, but spoke loudly over his shoulder, "If running is your goal, I can see ya to the edge of Mount Ibuki. Then yer on yer own."
She took a step toward him. Mount Ibuki was east, away from her family. Her heart broke a little, but she nodded, as if he could see her. "You’ll travel with me?"
Hageatama readjusted the giant pack and continued down the trail. "Bored."
They made camp under the great bamboo trees of Saimyoji Pass.
"The order will condemn anyone who helps me." She felt terrified to admit it.
"Boring talk," Hageatama waved off the warning. "Can take care of m’self."
Ayu built a fire, and Hageatama roasted each of them a large yam. As soon as he ate, he unceremoniously lay down near the far side of the fire and fell asleep, leaving Ayu alone with chirping crickets.
If she were brave, she would have abandoned the man there and then. She tried to will herself up, but she couldn’t move.
Hageatama’s sleeping form wavered in the hot air from the fire. It shamed her that she couldn’t bring herself to sneak off. When the Socius came for her, it would certainly show Hageatama no mercy either.
She rubbed the brand below her neck. Perhaps tomorrow she’d find the courage.
Across the fire pit, the old man slept so quietly that he resembled a pile of rags set by the fire for burning.
The crackling sound of boots on leaves started quietly in the distance to her left. The crickets quieted.
Ayu was scared to move, but she felt around for the honyaki dagger the old man had lent her.
She whispered, "Hageatama!"
The old man didn’t wake.
Her nerves thrummed as she wrapped her fingers around the dagger.
The sound of the footsteps grew louder until she could make out the shape of a man. She slipped the dagger behind her back and composed herself. It’d been forever since she’d had a real conversation with someone. She’d have to pretend Hageatama was her grandfather. She could say they were traveling toward Kyoto, rather than away from it.
The man who stepped out of woods wore a black fisherman’s jacket over a loose white shirt and pants and simple shoes. The wide-brimmed straw hat on his back was well worn and would need to be replaced soon.
When her father came home from a day of fishing, Ayu had always thought the way the hat stuck out from behind his arms looked like a shield. The hat, the shirt, the jacket: all were the same as she had last seen him.
Her father had markedly aged over the last eleven years, mostly in his eyes. The grey flecks on his temples and beard made Ayu’s heart hurt.
"Papa!" She jumped to her feet, leaving the dagger forgotten on the blanket. Her cheeks reddened. She was far too old to use such childish language. She bowed. "Forgive me, otousan."
Her father’s face was unreadable. "It has been too long."
She felt eleven again. The last seven years fell away—a long nightmare, and she’d just awakened. She tripped as she rushed to him.
If Hageatama ever woke up, she’d introduce them. Maybe father could give him a coin. But first she needed her father to hold her like she was eleven, to tell her that she wouldn’t ever fe
el afraid again.
She was nearly to him when his arm shot out like a spear. "Don’t come near me!"
She almost fell while stopping herself. "What is the matter, father?"
His face was hard with disgust. "No daughter of mine is a dui shi. You are unclean."
Dui Shi? She only vaguely knew the term. Imperial courtesans, two women who behaved as husband and wife. She was speechless, lost in confusion and shame.
She jumped back when her father spit on the ground at her feet. "You purport yourself as would a prostitute."
She put out her arms. "Why would you say this, father?" She motioned helplessly back in the direction of Kyoto. "I live in a single room. I haven’t touched another person in seven years." At least not in kindness. She’d been abused countless times, had been forced to fight other acolytes. She’d struck out at her master, just the once.
Her father crossed his arms. "You deny how you feel in your heart?"
Her mind spun. How could he know? She’d never spoken of it to anyone. Had she shown signs as a child?
"It’s no surprise you became a murderer."
A hollow cold settled into her chest. "How did you find me, father?" She took a step back. "How did you travel all this way?"
His face suddenly fell into the kindest smile. "Should a father not come to his daughter’s aid?" It was the exact smile she’d remembered from her childhood. Perfect.
She took another step back, onto her blanket. "How did you know I was in trouble?"
The firelight wavered, as if by a breeze. A single snap of the fire echoed throughout the forest. Every other sound around them had hushed.
Her father’s laugh reminded her of her mother and he, of summers and chores, sisters and brothers. Her heart broke.
The fire crackled once, twice, then its sound faded until her ears popped. Complete silence closed around her until the only sound left was of her heart pounding faster and faster.
Her father opened his arms as if to hug her, and he exploded into a cloud of sticky oil. She threw her arms up, but nothing struck her. When she brought them back down, the small clearing was free of any sign of the Socius impersonating her father.