The Book of Heroes (50 page)

Stairs led down the mountain of rubble, the steps crafted from seemingly random collections of rock and sand—as if whatever exterior force had pounded the earth here had caused it to fracture just so, creating descending ledges. Several of the “steps” were taller even than U-ri herself, so she had to clamber down, sometimes with Sky’s help. It was very dark. Ash and Sky had both discarded their torches as they needed their hands free to navigate the steps. Only the light of U-ri’s glyph lit their way, like a spelunker’s headlamp. The light it cast cut a perfect circle out of the gloom, so that whichever direction U-ri wasn’t facing was plunged in utter darkness.

U-ri had been under so much tension for so long that now her tears had completely dried. She was even beginning to think, as she listened to her own ragged breath, that her chest was heaving only with the exertion of their descent and not the pain she felt in her heart.

Yet the wound in her heart still ached and bled. Partly because of her brother’s voice, and partly because of Sky’s increasingly odd behavior.

He had always been there right by her side, before. Now she had to turn around to find him, somewhere back in the darkness behind her. She had always been able to sense him before too, even when he did not speak, but now it felt like Sky was intentionally trying to disappear—out of sight and out of mind.

“What did you see in the light?”

Ash’s question to Sky. He hadn’t answered. He had hit himself, like he was punishing himself for something. Then he urged the party on, as though nothing had changed.

What did you see in the light of my glyph, Sky? Did what you see do this? Did it draw you further away from me?

What was it?

The questions spun around inside her head, and U-ri had to screw her mouth shut tightly to keep them from spilling out. Going down the rough-hewn steps felt less like a descent and more like sinking into the depths.

They met no more creatures on their dishearteningly long and dangerous way down. When they had reached what appeared to be the bottom, U-ri noticed that the ground was hard and level in a way that none of the many steps above them had been.

The walls, illuminated by Uri’s glyph, had clearly been man-made.

“We seem to be in some kind of underground complex,” Ash said. “I’m sure in the past there were proper paths down here from the palace. But the force that did this damage chose none of those paths, instead preferring to simply open a hole in the ground.”

From U-ri’s shoulder Aju squeaked, “I think that room up top with all the rubble was a prayer hall of some sort. I spotted an altar and some fragments of religious-looking paintings.”

“That would make it the royal family’s private chapel. Makes sense. It would want to destroy that first,” Ash said, unwilling to call “it” by its proper name.

Behind him was an impassable wall of wreckage.
No way to go but forward
. U-ri fixed her grip on her mace. They began walking by the light of the glyph, and small bits of plaster rained down on their heads from the darkness above. Ash extended an arm, barring U-ri’s path. “Walk carefully. The impact that destroyed the palace has left its mark here.”

U-ri nodded, swinging her head to give them a better view of their surroundings. She found a crack in one wall, a fallen sconce, and some broken candles.
So this place was once lit like the rooms above
.

The corridor was flat and wide enough for two to walk abreast, yet it turned frequently, always at a right angle, and following a pattern: they would come to a right turn, which led to an intersection where they went straight, only to come to a left turn. This happened over and over.

“It’s a labyrinth,” U-ri muttered.

“An inverted swastika, actually,” Aju chirped, his voice filled with an unusual confidence. “A
manji
to you, U-ri. Isn’t that right, Ash?”

“It is. Not bad for an
aunkaui
dictionary.”

“Thanks,” Aju replied coolly.

“But you’re both right. It’s a labyrinth made up of
manji
, the ancient symbol for eternity and cosmic balance. Not a labyrinth in the sense of a maze so much as a labyrinth in the sense of a spiritual path,” said Ash.

“What’s that mean?”

“Like the path one walks to visit a grave,” Ash explained, a sense of urgency in his voice. “And I am sure that, at its terminus in the center of the labyrinth, we will find the grave of the mage Elem, whose symbol the
manji
is.” After a pause, he added, “Or, to be more precise, it was the symbol of those who worshipped her.”

Though Elem did not take on a single disciple during her life, there were many in the Haetlands whom she had saved with her power and knowledge. It was only a matter of time before some began to worship her as an apostle of the creator. Though not on a large enough scale to be considered a proper sect, her followers gathered to her, assisted in her research, and joined her on her many travels.

“The followers of Elem bore the mark of the
manji
upon the palms of their hands.”

“That’s all very fine and well,” U-ri said, “but why did they have to go and make this whole labyrinth?”

“Probably to keep Elem from leaving easily,” Aju suggested. “This is how the royal family of the Haetlands held Elem here beneath the palace. Only they would’ve known the proper path for winding their way through.”

They turned, walked, went straight for a while, then turned again. As they went, the walls around them gradually began to change. They were whiter here, and brighter, adorned with murals faded and crumbling from the walls but with parts that were still visible. Most of the paintings depicted people. There were young and old, men and women, standing in orderly lines. All of them wore hooded white robes, their heads bowed reverently, with both hands held up by their chests. U-ri could make out the inverted swastikas on several of them.

“And images of her followers were placed along the walls of the labyrinth to quell Elem’s restless spirit,” Ash said with a sneer, quickening his pace. “We’re nearing the center, where we’ll find Elem—and something of Kirrick’s buried with her, be it a possession or a body part.”

Though they lived at different times, both mages were guilty of the same sin. Elem had planted the roots of it, and Kirrick had caused the sin to bloom like an evil flower.

“In other words, we’re heading right where
it
went,” Ash said.

They soon came upon the bodies of many other fallen knights, their vacant stares underscoring Ash’s words. Some had their armor stripped from them and rent to pieces. U-ri was saddened, but she did not slow her pace.

“I wonder if the mage friend of that man we saw at the top of the stairs made it any further?” U-ri asked. No sooner had she said that than a bloodcurdling scream split the darkness ahead. Ash ran forward without a moment’s hesitation, while U-ri stood rooted to the spot for a breath before following after. But then she stopped again—and this time it was of her own volition.

“Sky?”

Sky was hugging the wall, terrified by the scream. He slid to the ground before her.

“You’re not going? Will you wait here?”

Forehead to the wall, Sky slumped, then shook his head. “No. No…I will go.”

“Let’s go then,” U-ri held out a hand.

Sky looked away. “I will go, but you must stay here, Lady U-ri. Please wait here.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous! I can’t stay here!”

U-ri had just about had it.
Whatever. Do what you like!
She dashed off down the corridor, feet stomping on the ground. She was just around the next corner when something sleek slid through the air, and she reflexively swatted at it with her mace.

The corridor had grown suddenly wider. The darkness was less complete.
We’re getting close.

U-ri blinked and saw that most of the open space she had come to was filled with one particularly large creature.

In form, it greatly resembled the thing that had appeared outside the library at Hiroki’s school. But this one had legs, two of them, each with sharp claws. Above them hung a misshapen lump of a body from which tentacles grew in every direction, making it impossible to tell which way the thing was facing.

If it even has a face.

U-ri recalled the creature whom she had met deep beneath the Katarhar Abbey ruins, the one that had once been Ichiro Minochi.

The creature was bleeding green blood. Ash had already severed several of its tentacles with his two-handed sword. Still, it was clinging to something—a man, his arms and legs hanging limp, his head flopping on the end of his bent neck. The monster held it aloft with many of its remaining tentacles, holding the body high over the ground and not letting go. From the robe he wore, U-ri guessed this was the mage.

“Let him go!”

At U-ri’s shout, the creature shifted perceptibly. It stamped on the ground with its two legs.

“I said let him go, you fiend!”

Whatever it was, it seemed to understand her words. The creature complied, flinging the mage toward her. U-ri and Ash dodged aside, a spray green and red blood splattering their cheeks.

The creature lashed out with another tentacle. Ash leapt between it and U-ri, while U-ri readied her mace and took a deep breath. She placed her left hand to the glyph on her forehead, and the glyph began to shine.

Lifting the glow in her hand, U-ri roared, “Unclean gatekeeper, open the way to us!”

Platinum light streaked from her hand across the room. Aju squeaked, shutting his eyes against the glare, and even Ash raised his arms to shield his eyes. U-ri stood, head up, unfaltering.

In the space of a breath, the creature was gone. Even the severed tentacles that had been leaking green blood on the floor evaporated.

“Where did you learn those words?”

U-ri lowered her mace and answered, “The glyph told me.”

“I see.” Ash sighed. “It
was
a gatekeeper.”

The gatekeeper to the graveyard, watcher over Kirrick—

U-ri and Ash walked abreast into the space the creature had left behind.

They were in a large, circular hall, from the very center of which rose a circular dais, topped by a pair of crosses laid across one another. They were crosses like the ones in U-ri’s region, but she had never seen crosses arranged like this at home. The crosses she knew would have been driven into the ground like stakes.

“The grave of the mage Elem,” Ash said in a hushed voice.

“Look at the walls,” Aju squeaked.

Images of Elem’s followers had been drawn here too. They surrounded the graves, each with the mark of the
manji
on their hands.

“Why is it so light in here?”

There were holders for torches and sconces scattered around, but none of them were lit. U-ri tried covering the glyph on her forehead with her hand, but the light in the hall did not lessen. It wasn’t her glyph that was lighting it—there must have been another source.

Then she saw that a faint light, a thin, golden mist shimmering like the air sometimes does in the summer, was coming from behind the crosses.

And then the mist
sat up
.

That was the only way she could describe it. Even though the mist wasn’t shaped like a person or an animal, it moved like one. U-ri realized that Ash was holding his breath.

“Who are you?” he asked, finally, his voice even and composed. “No, let me rephrase that. Who are you
here
and
now
?”

U-ri still had her hand over her glyph. Light spilled out from between her fingers—and not a warm glow like before, but sharp rays of radiance that stabbed like blades at the golden mist beyond the crosses.

Several of the rays pierced the mist. With each ray that penetrated it, the mist began to coalesce, its outline taking shape. U-ri stood watching it, her mouth hanging open.

The golden mist was transforming into the shape of a person. U-ri saw that it wore long robes flowing elegantly from its shoulders, like those of a person of noble stature. The figure was facing her.

“U-ri!” Aju whimpered, his tiny body shivering where he hid in the collar of her vestments. “Don’t be scared, U-ri! It can’t do anything to you! It can’t touch you!”

U-ri wasn’t frightened by the sight, though. She was entranced. She understood how this figure could steal men’s hearts. How all who faced it fell under its spell.

Just like my brother had.

It was
the Hero
.

This was the source of that wild energy that had broken from its prison and descended upon the Circle, a subject of devotion and adoration wrapped in tremendous brilliance.

Then the shining Hero reached forward with one hand, clutched one of the crosses upon the dais and gently slid it off. It lifted the cross lightly above its own head, then tossed it over its back.

Ash raised his sword and charged. But the Hero simply lifted one hand, and Ash was knocked back as if struck by some invisible whip. He flew through the air and landed at U-ri’s feet.

Ash was up on his own feet again before she could help him. U-ri stood, transfixed. She remembered what she had seen on that summer night so long ago: her brother bowing his head before a figure in a long cape.

“U-ri, U-ri!” Aju swatted U-ri’s cheek with a tiny paw and thrust his cold nose into her ear. “Snap out of it, U-ri!”

U-ri felt the strength leave her limbs. Her hands fell limp by her sides. The mace had almost slipped out of her grasp when she realized it and lifted it again to defend herself.

Ash charged once more, and the Hero knocked him away. It was playing with him. While it tossed Ash around with the slightest motions of his fingers, the Hero lightly lifted up the other cross and tossed it against the wall. The shattered pieces fell with a racket.

“Kirrick—” Ash groaned, falling to one knee. “You are Kirrick. Remember! Remember the man you were! Remember how you once raised your sword to defend the oppressed!”

Even though the shining outline in front of them had no face, U-ri was sure that the Hero was smiling.