Chương 30: Book 1: Chapter 10 - The Bell [Part 3]

He awoke on his back beneath the beams of the shrine hall. Tarō knelt on one side of him, while Aya sat on the other with a damp cloth folded across her hands. Chief Priest Noritsuna stood near Shimon's feet, still clutching the ōnusa, and Heita watched from behind them with his face drained to an ashen gray. The young man pushed himself upright, but the room tilted around him, and Tarō caught him by the shoulder before he could fall.

"What happened?" Shimon asked, blinking until the faces above him stopped moving.

"You spoke," Tarō replied.

"I know that much," Shimon muttered groggily.

"You spoke in a tongue no one understood." The paper remained where Shimon had fallen, with the black seal spread across its surface exactly as he remembered it. Aya followed his gaze and asked, "What did you write?" Shimon looked around blearily before answering, "I do not know." Noritsuna approached with measured steps.

"The wind moved through the sanctuary when you completed the sign, and the bell rang without being struck." Shimon had neither felt the wind nor heard the bell. The priest lifted the paper carefully with both hands, and awe competed with caution across his expression.

"A power answered," he declared, and no one present disputed him. Kagawa shifted forward, a rueful grin on his face.

"Was the answer favorable?" Noritsuna regarded the one-eyed warrior for a moment before replying, "A bell does not choose what answers it." Something changed in Kagawa's posture. His confidence did not disappear, but it became less certain.

"We will complete the rite," Noritsuna continued.

"The sign will remain here, and none of you will copy it, speak over it, or touch it without my permission." The warriors bowed in acknowledgment of the priest's authority. Although Shimon's thoughts remained sluggish, he could see that Seki's usual indifference had vanished, while Tarō kept one hand close to his shoulder in case he collapsed again. Heita alone failed to bow immediately. Instead, he stared over Shimon's shoulder at something no one else appeared able to see.

His eyes widened, and then he lowered his head so abruptly that his forehead struck the floorboards. Despite the ominous conclusion to the rite, the hunting party departed shortly after sunrise. Nagai rode at the head of the column on his pale-feathered war-beast, while Kagawa followed on Kurobane with the relaxed balance of a man who had traveled many leagues in the saddle. Abbot Ryōzen and Abe Chikanori walked behind them.

The monk carried prayer beads, a short staff, and a bundle of ritual implements wrapped in oilcloth. Abe had protected his writing box beneath waxed cloth and brought enough paper to document a minor campaign. Ishikawa walked between the two files of hunters, correcting the position of a spear or the fastening of an armor cord whenever he found fault. The ten hunters marched in two loose columns. Shimon carried the sheathed ōdachi across his left shoulder, while his katana and short sword remained at his waist.

The long scabbard caught a branch, and brushed a porter's pack. He felt like a walking armory.

"Watch yourself," Tarō complained. Shimon responded with nothing, a card he was getting better at playing. Six porters followed with spare weapons, stakes, rope, oil, water, firewood, salt, food, and the supplies Abe apparently considered indispensable. Behind them came three condemned men linked by iron collars. Their wrists were bound in front, and two castle guards walked beside them with spears ready. The first prisoner was broad, broken-nosed, and marked by bruises from confinement.

The second was older and walked with a limp, while the third kept his head bowed beneath a tangle of greasy hair. No one had told them precisely what awaited them, although their expressions suggested that they had guessed enough. The road descended through the castle town and crossed the eastern fields. Farmers paused in their work to watch the procession. A large aetosaur pulling a plow raised its blunt head, chewed twice, and then returned its attention to the furrow.

Far above the river, two pterosaurs circled on broad wings, and their shadows passed briefly over the paddies. Once the castle disappeared behind the hills, Kagawa guided Kurobane back along the column until he rode beside Shimon.

"What language did you speak in the shrine?" the mounted warrior asked. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"A family tongue," Shimon answered. Tarō glanced across from the other file, and Kagawa noticed the reaction immediately.

"Kume does not believe you," he observed. Shimon just shrugged. Silence would serve when words could be damning. The one-eyed warrior gave him a discerning look.

"The priest did not call it, whatever it was, an ill omen."

"The priest also ordered us not to touch it." Kagawa considered that argument before remarking, "Priests prefer caution. It keeps them employed." The abbot looked back from farther up the column.

"Priests are often wrong." Kagawa's smile faded a smidgeon.

"The monk is joking."

"No," Ryōzen corrected, and then he faced forward again. Near the boundary village, familiar storehouses appeared beyond the fields. Shimon recognized the small shrine where charms had once hung in crowded rows during his first journey, although several of them had since been replaced. The villagers kept their distance as the column passed. They bowed to Nagai, stared at the chained prisoners, and avoided looking directly at the hunters, as though too much attention might invite whatever followed them.

Beyond the village, the road narrowed into broken woodland. Heita had avoided Shimon throughout the morning, but when the path curved around a washout, Shimon slowed, moved alongside him, and caught the man by the sleeve.

"We need to speak," Shimon told him. Heita pulled free.

"We do not."

"You saw something in the shrine." The samurai's face tightened, although he continued walking.

"You reacted before I did," the young man continued, lowering his voice.

"You also stared at me in the council chamber."

"I was not staring at you," the tight-faced man protested.

"What were you staring at?" Heita quickened his pace, but Shimon's longer stride matched him without difficulty.

"I will continue asking until you answer," the young man stated testily. Heita muttered and pointedly ignored him. Ahead of them, Tarō and Seki were quietly disputing something. Kagawa had returned to Nagai's side, and no one nearby appeared to be listening. After several more paces, Heita finally relented.

"There was something above you," he whispered. Shimon ground his teeth, gathered himself, then asked, "At the shrine?"

"I saw it in the council chamber first."

"What did it look like?"

"Black."

"That is not especially useful." Heita glanced at him before elaborating.

"It was black, like ink spreading through wet cloth, and shaped almost as some animal crouched. It came from behind you, though there was no true space there, and thin arms unfolded over your shoulders, each ending in something curved and sharp. Whenever I tried to count them, the limbs blurred, divided, and multiplied." Shimon suppressed a shudder.

"And at the shrine?"

"It covered you," Heita answered, his voice falling until Shimon could barely hear him.

"When you wrote the seals, it bent down, and its face passed through yours." Heat remained trapped beneath Shimon's armor, but his skin turned cold.

"Did anyone else see it?"

"I do not know," the other man said with a shake of his head.

"You looked around."

"I hoped someone had." A chain rattled behind them when one of the prisoners stumbled, and a guard struck the ground beside his feet with a spear butt before ordering him upright.

"Do you see such things often?" Shimon asked. Heita hesitated, which answered the question before he finally admitted, "Yes." The young man gave him a weak smile.

"Where do you see them?"

"At shrines, temples, and old places," Heita explained.

"They gather where the spirit is strong. Sometimes I see them in forests."

"What are they?" asked Shimon, genuinely intrigued.

"The people call them kami."

"That is a name, not a true answer."

"It is the only answer I have to give you," Heita answered somberly, touching the scar beneath his chin before continuing.

"Some sit beside offerings, while others follow priests. Some crawl through the rafters during funerals. When I was a child, I saw one inside a sacred tree. It looked through a split in the bark and spoke my name."

"What did you do?"

"I stopped telling people what I saw." Ahead of them, Abe nearly walked into a low branch while writing. Ryōzen caught the scholar by the sleeve and guided him aside without interrupting his stride.

"Was the thing at the shrine hostile?" Shimon asked. Heita looked at him with naked unease.

"It noticed that I could see it. That is all I know." Shimon decided that he did not want to pursue this avenue of inquiry any further.

They reached the cave in the late afternoon. Shimon recognized the ridge before the entrance came into view. The angle of the slope, the split cedar beside the path, and the gray stone among the roots all matched the map stored by his chip. A pale route line appeared across his vision, accompanied by the old designation: Temporary Domicile. The cave mouth opened behind a screen of brush, and bones lay scattered among the dead leaves.

Most were animal remains: a deer skull with one antler chewed down, scattered ribs, and small vertebrae carried apart by scavengers. The human remains lay nearer the entrance. The man Shimon had left there was no longer whole. His skull rested on its side without a jaw, fragments of cloth clung beneath the ribs, and one arm had been dragged several paces toward the trees. Tarō stopped beside him.

"You know this place."

"I spent a night here," Shimon confirmed. Tarō looked from the bones to the swords at Shimon's waist.

"Was he their former owner?"

"Yes."

"Did he try to kill you?"

"He did." Tarō nodded before spitting on the forest floor, because in this world that amounted to sufficient explanation.