by Mark Teppo
But Hageatama heaved the bag over the rail. It hit the water like a boulder. After a great splash, it was gone.
Hageatama turned his sad eyes on Ayu and said, "There now."
She reached her scarred hand out to the water. "Your pack."
He waved off the words. "Now we’re not going anywhere."
Ayu was nearly twenty-one, and she made her wage as a storyteller. Her Latin faded, and the Christian magic was all but gone, but she still held onto a few magical flourishes. Ichirou expanded the izakaya to accommodate everyone who wished to rejoice in Ayu’s stories. Her greatest joy came from remembering the old tales from her childhood in Tottori. She never spoke of the order.
When the local carpenter retired, Hageatama took over for him, even though Hageatama looked just as old as the man he was replacing. Together, Ayu and Hageatama built a house near the forest west of town.
On the day of Ayu’s twenty-first birthday, an herb-woman drifted into town carrying enameled inro full of flowers and tinctures. Ayu was delighted to finally take part in the town gossip rather than being the subject of it.
The herb-woman, Megumi entered the izakaya while Ayu performed fire tricks. Megumi’s mad green eyes glinted in the light, and she sat at a table off to Ayu’s side. She lay on the table what could only be the old waterlogged remains of Hageatama’s backpack.
Ayu forgot her place in the story she wove. She frowned as the stranger pulled the patches off her friend’s property, making a small even pile of cloth on the table.
Thinking more of the stranger’s blazing eyes then the trick she was supposed to be performing, Ayu accidentally set fire the machikata’s table.
Megumi’s smile made people forget they didn’t know her.
It irritated Ayu that these people, who had taken more than a year to fully accept her and Hageatama, accepted Megumi as town healer in just a few days.
Ayu decided not to like this new woman.
Though it was impossible to dislike someone she never saw. Megumi seemed always busy tapping a sami drum, mixing herbs and caring for sick townsfolk. At night she was off searching the local hills for healing plants.
Ayu began to linger in places she suspected Megumi would be. She decided that she’d have to talk to the woman to have an opinion of her.
Megumi came in from the southern slope of the mountain, carrying two rods, each holding a large clay container on the end.
Ayu did her best to pretend that she just noticed Megumi as she passed. "Oh, madam healer. I could help you carry your load?" She cursed herself. The words sounded foolish. She caught herself grinning like an idiot.
Megumi’s eyes sparked. "I can carry this fine, juggler."
Ayu’s grin wilted a little. "Perhaps I could help you gather herbs?"
"And my name is not ‘healer.’"
Megumi searched in silence along the river’s edge for herbs. Ayu followed her and searched for something to say.
The wind made a ripple on the river that caught Ayu’s eye. Perhaps she should ask the healer where she found Hageatama’s backpack. It was a natural topic of conversation. Perhaps the healer had some of Hageatama’s things.
When Ayu opened her mouth, she was stopped short by Megumi staring at her.
Megumi said, "Magic-jester, you will fare better with directness."
"Uh, yes . . ."Ayu’s mind spun. She couldn’t think directly, much less speak it.
Megumi put her hands on her hips. "Ask me to watch the sunset with you up at Jyoshin-etsu view."
"Um . . ."
Megumi’s eyes glinted in the falling sunlight. "Say, ‘I’d be honored to accompany you to the ridge tonight.’"
It took Ayu three tries, but she did.
"Good. Now know this, I like the looks of you fine, but we have to become proper friends before anything, understand?"
Ayu did something similar to a nod.
The sun flared red and brilliant at twilight. Ayu brought a blanket for each of them, but Megumi left hers folded on the ground.
They’d walked in silence since they met in front of Ichirou’s izakaya.
The sun became a blinding crown behind Jyoshin-etsu’s peak, and Ayu realized that soon they’d have to leave. Her heart hurt a bit.
The next realization was a surprise, but it wasn’t fear that settled into Ayu’s heart, not really.
She looked over at Megumi’s profile, the woman’s face rapt as she took in every last second of the dying day.
An old familiar voice spoke in the back of Ayu’s head: this is probably the person who will kill me.
Megumi looked over for a second. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled, and then she went back to looking at the sunset.
Ayu considered Megumi. Her heart fluttered.
This might be the person who kills me, but I can live with that.
No one acknowledged Ayu and Megumi, at least not out loud. It wasn’t as if they were married in the village temple. No one admitted to reciting prayers to the great goddess Amaterasu.
Megumi simply moved into Ayu and Hageatama’s house. Some folk brought onigiri and a straw broom. Village women jokingly called their house Shimai No Ie, "sister-house."
In private, Ayu silently thanked the little gods back in Tottori and asked the Christians’ Lord to bless and forgive her strange union. Even after the horrors of the order, she found she couldn’t totally let go of her God.
Come festival day, Megumi herself looked like a silent goddess in her kimono and tsunokakushi headdress. None of them had family to join together in Yui-no, so the Ojiya folk announced them adopted, and the festival was said to be in their honor.
Eventually, stories of the three strangers grew old and thin and were replaced with town gossip about its own: their talented healer, their gruff old carpenter, and their magnificent storyteller.
When Ayu turned thirty, rumors drifted to the village that war raged in Kyoto. Shogun Toyotomi Hideyoshi outlawed Christianity. His forces fought the order to reunite Japan.
The people of Ojiya didn’t pay much attention. Politics and war seemed far away, and they focused on their own. Better gossip was how the women pitied Ayu and Megumi for their lack of children.
Ayu mixed clay into the thatching of their roof while Megumi sewed patches over holes in their screens. "Where’s Hageatama?"
Megumi kept at her mending. "He’s gathering herbs for me."
Ayu shook her head. "More like ditching his responsibilities."
She threw some straw down onto Megumi’s head. "Wouldn’t you rather find a man to give you children?" It was a common joke between them. Megumi’s line was, No man can handle me.
Instead, this time she furrowed her brow as she pulled the needle through rice paper. "I can’t have children."
Ayu looked up. "How do you know that?"
"A healer knows."
Ayu stuffed more straw into the clay. "Who needs children. We have Hageatama."
Megumi just kept at her work, but Ayu knew she was smiling.
The realization made Ayu stop working. "Megumi?"
"What is it, wife?" A bit of irritation crept in Megumi’s voice.
"I am happy."
Megumi looked up from her work, frowned like she didn’t know what the word meant. She looked at Ayu a long moment before she said, "So am I."
"I’ve spent so long waiting for things to sour, but I no longer have it in me." Ayu laughed. "I guess I must resign myself to being content."
Megumi went back to sewing the screen. "Hageatama and I won’t let any ill come to you."
Megumi opened her mouth to say something else, but instead lifted her head as if she smelled smoke. She looked toward the wooden bridge outside the village.
Ayu followed Megumi’s gaze, blocking the sun with her hand. A dust cloud raced down from mountain pass, just to the west of the bridge.
Megumi’s voice became hollow and strange. "Down, down from the roof."
"What is it?" Ayu looked back to the bridge. A caravan wasn�
��t due for a month or so. "I don’t see—"
Megumi had somehow climbed the wall. She hauled Ayu to her by Ayu’s shirt. Both of them slid down the roof and Ayu hit the grass.
Megumi’s voice boomed. "Hide, girl, hide!"
Men on horses crossed the bridge into town, the shogun’s official seal held by the rider’s banner-holder.
Ayu still couldn’t get herself to move. "The Shogun doesn’t have any reason to want me."
Megumi grabbed Ayu’s shirt again, dragged her practically off her feet, into the house. The screens slammed shut behind her.
Megumi’s grip was like iron. Ayu struggled, but couldn’t move. "Let go. If it was the order, I’d be worried. But even then, once marked by the Socius, I’m as good as—"
Megumi put three fingers on Ayu’s mouth. "The shogun is winning. Christianity is outlawed. The order will soon be dead. Anyone associated with the order is under a death sentence now."
Ayu pushed down Megumi’s hand. "But I hate the order."
"It doesn’t matter. The shogun is cleansing the land." Megumi let go of her and crossed the room to an open window.
Ayu followed. "How can you know all this?"
Megumi waved off the question and closed another screen.
Ayu asked, "Where is Hageatama?"
"Don’t worry. He is putting on a good face for the town." As Megumi closed the last screen the room took on a darker reddish tint.
Megumi turned, the fireplace behind her put her face in shadow. "Calm yourself. No one will give you away, and the shogun men will soon leave."
Ayu sat on the hearth and held her head. She was marked by the Socius, wanted by the order and now the shogunate. "I’m endangering everyone. I should leave Ojiya."
She stood up. "I have to get away from you and Hageatama. Perhaps if I give myself up they’ll—"
Megumi slapped her, so hard Ayu’s neck snapped back.
It was the only time in their many years together. Ayu gaped in disbelief.
Megumi’s voice was edged like a blade. "If you give yourself up, they’ll burn the town for harboring you!"
Ayu leaned against the stone of the hearth. She could smell nothing but ashes from the fireplace.
Megumi towered above her. "You are going to sit here and wait." She stabbed her finger at the screen. "When they leave everything will be fine. The order is not going to find you. The shogunate is not going to catch you. The Socius is never going to trouble you again."
Rage twisted Megumi’s face. In that moment Ayu didn’t know who she feared more.
Megumi gritted her teeth. "I am not going to lose you."
The shogun’s men didn’t find Ayu that day, nor in any of the years later. Time passed, as it does, and still no one found her. Whenever danger came near, Megumi and Hageatama kept her from harm.
By 1646 the Christian order defended only Kyushu prefecture in southern Japan. Emperor Go-Mizunoo declared Japan closed to the world.
On her seventy-sixth birthday, Ayu awoke to Megumi placing a cool cloth on Ayu’s forehead. Megumi wiped away tears and smiled. Wrinkles bunched around her eyes. Hageatama, looking ancient and small, sat in the corner wringing out cloths.
Megumi stroked Ayu’s hair. "We’ll get to your seventy-seventh yet, my love."
Ayu coughed into a smile. "No more lies, darling."
She could barely see, but she knew Hageatama and Megumi shared something, even though neither looked at the other. Hageatama sprang from his seat to stand beside Megumi. Ayu’s eyes were poor, and she welcomed the chance to look at them both. Megumi’s cool hand rested against Ayu’s cheek, and Ayu felt herself drifting to sleep. She blinked a few times to keep herself awake a little longer. Hageatama picked up Ayu’s wrist, running his thumb around the scar left so many years ago by the Socius. He closed his eyes, as if he were listening to something inside Ayu.
Megumi and Hageatama looked to each other. They sighed, a sound like a heart breaking.
Their skin melted. Their features faded until they were two jet-black shapes, only vaguely human.
Ayu sighed. "Ah, yes. It’s been so long." She looked from one to the other. "I was so afraid that if I let on, you might go."
The shape that was Hageatama nodded grimly. "We’re sorry." Its black liquid arm gently wrapped her wrist and the twisted finger, broken so long ago. His touch felt like a warm bath.
Ayu’s eyes glimmered in the candlelight. "You are still beautiful to me."
The warmth from Megumi’s black arm went cold. "No." She formed back into her familiar shape. Her looks faded from old to young, young to old. More tears fell from her eyes only to fade dry. "The best we could do was draw it out."
Hageatama flowed back into human form as well. "We have no choice. We are Socius. Our spell forces us to take you before you die."
Ayu nodded.
Hageatama grinned. "Have to say, you grew on me. I . . . we were supposed to put you at ease and ruin you over and over." His eyes went watery. "When you sacrificed yourself for me . . . I wanted to be with you, you made me want to exist as something other than I was. When I split to become Megumi too, I . . . we came to love you in different ways."
Ayu’s vision blurred, and she had trouble telling them apart. One of them said. "You made me see that I could be something, anything."
Hageatama propped up Ayu’s head. Ayu’s voice was dry, and Megumi brought her some water.
Ayu whispered. "My loves, I’ll be glad to see you again in heaven."
A thin maguro bocho blade grew out of Megumi’s hand. She held it low, so Ayu wouldn’t see. "Yes, my love, see you again soon."
She and Hageatama kissed Ayu’s forehead, and Megumi painlessly stopped Ayu’s heart. A final breath left Ayu’s mouth as a soft contented sigh.
Hageatama and Megumi froze. Their smiles fell away, their faces melted as they bowed their heads in low harmonized keening.
Hageatama went translucent. His hair dissolved into the air. "I so wish that were true. We are of nothingness. When we complete our function, we return to nothing."
They crawled into the bed on either side of Ayu. Hageatama and Megumi lay holding her, each with a head on her chest, humming into her heart.
As Ayu’s body grew cold, Hageatama and Megumi faded, first their tears, then their voices. Slowly their feelings and memories, joys and pains, it all dissipated into candlelight and smoke.
Eidolon
— Christie Yant
There are no scents in Heaven.
No choking fetor of sweat or blood; no bodies that secrete, defecate, die, and rot. Nothing grows, nothing perishes. Nothing can be said to be truly alive.
But there is sound.
It begins as an isolated tone, a single sword against a single shield. The armor of Heaven rings out like music.
Others join in, and the chimes become a rhythmic pounding of weapons and revolt. Worth can feel it in the Void, in God’s memory of stone beneath his bare feet, in the very feathers of his wings.
He can’t help but watch. The Citadel they’ve made for themselves (Made! Angels! The very thought!) shines in the distance, and they assemble before it in long rows, pounding their shields, how many deep he cannot tell.
On the other side of where Worth stands, the Creator’s army assembles in perfect order, perfect obedience, perfect silence. So many of them. The rebels did not stand a chance; they were fools to consider it. Worth understood their anger, he felt it too—but it was certain annihilation, to attempt the overthrow of Heaven.
The pounding continues, filling his mind with confusion and noise. The ranks are formed: the Righteous versus the Right.
He watches as angels defect from the ranks of the Righteous and are absorbed on the other side. One rises above the plane of battle and goes not to join the raging, rebellious angels, but flies away from the scene entirely. He turns his back on Divine Will and disappears from sight.
Worth thinks he knows him. His name is Achor: Trouble.
On a comma
nd that cannot be seen nor heard by anyone other than the assembled Host, they charge, their faces never changing as they strike down their former companions.
There is no blood in Heaven. No screams of pain or cries for mercy. There is metal on metal ringing out through God’s perfect silence, and the streaking flames of the Fallen as they are vanquished and exiled to the imperfect world below.
Before long it is too much for Worth. He turns his back on the scene of battle, flexes his gleaming white wings, and flies away.
From Worth’s vantage point here at the end of everything, there is nothing but the broken road beneath his feet, the crumbling Citadel to which it once led, a delicate blue globe suspended in the endless night, and Achor.
He sits with his back to the Citadel and watches bright souls flare in the darkness as they begin their ascent, leaving their mortal lives behind. Occasionally one wanders up the road toward him, a dim living light that falters as it follows a dream.
Achor returns from the Citadel, carrying another block of stone.
"Do they remind you of anything?" Worth asks. Achor drops the weathered block beside him but says nothing.
"There goes another one," Worth says as the tiny, bobbing light winks out on the road. "Do you remember when the others Fell? They streaked like fire across the sky." He flexes a stiff wing, sending a tattered gray feather fluttering to the ground.
"Not much fire in dreamers," Achor says, and points down the road. "Here’s one."
"It’ll go out." Worth counts silently. He has never got past twenty before the dreamer disappears.
"Light’s wrong," Achor says, getting to his feet. He finds a gap in the unfinished wall that lines the road, chooses a stone from the pile, and works it into place.
"What do you mean?" Worth asks—seventeen, eighteen, nineteen—and then he understands.
Twenty, twenty-one. Still it moves.
The figure that finally comes into view is a man, dressed in the memory of a tan duster and jeans, breathing hard as he strides up the hill.
"You don’t have to do that," Worth tells him when he is close enough to hear.
"Do what?" the man asks. He barely glances at Worth, his attention fixed on the road ahead of him.