Brave Story (93 page)

Wataru was getting impatient. “What? You don’t know? You don’t understand? I have trouble believing that.”

“Sorry, I’m not really up on my current events.” Mitsuru yawned. “I hardly know anything about the south. I know even less about the north, save that’s where I have to go.” Mitsuru turned his eyes back toward the town of Sono—or what was left of it after his sorcery had reduced half the houses to rubble. “I didn’t come here to sightsee, Wataru. And I don’t have time to care what happens to the place. I’ve got my hands full trying to finish my journey.” He smiled. “But you—you sure have been taking a few detours. What’s with that wristband of yours? I noticed it the last time we met. That’s the mark of a Highlander, or something, isn’t it? Defenders of safety and peace in Vision? You sure have a lot of time on your hands.”

Mitsuru’s words stung far more than he had intended, and far more than Wataru had expected they might. He thought he knew why he was here, what he was doing. And yet the words still hurt.

“What do I care about the north or the south? Nothing. Think about it, Wataru. Take Arikita, for instance…” Mitsuru spread his arms on the stern of the boat like an orator giving a speech. “A town of mines and industry. Everything is done by manpower, quite primitive, if you ask me. But eventually, someone will discover mechanical power, I’m sure. It’s just a matter of time. Vision must advance, as our own world did. Why are you so scared of something that would help it along its way?”

“Because those blueprints aren’t from here. They aren’t of this world,” Wataru replied without hesitation. “I’m sure you’re right, Mitsuru. I’m sure they’ll invent those things in time, but that time hasn’t come yet. Those blueprints are from the real world. It’s not right.”

“What’s not right about it? Wait, on second thought, I don’t really care. Let’s just say I need these blueprints. So, I can’t give them to you.”

“What could you possibly need them for?” Wataru said, his voice sounding whiny in his own ears.

“I’m going to offer a trade to the emperor, Gama Agrilius VII,” Mitsuru replied coolly. “You see, the last gemstone that I need just happens to be set in the Imperial Crown of the Northern Empire.”

Wataru felt the blood drain from his body. If he looked down, he fully expected to see his blood leaking through the rotting boards of the quay to mingle with the sea water below.

“An Imperial Crown! He won’t just give it to me if I ask nicely. That’s why I need something he’ll want so much that he’s willing to deal. To tell the truth, I had no idea what I’d do until the Precept-King in Dela Rubesi gave me a call. Too bad I won’t be able to return the favor.”

The friendship Wataru felt toward Mitsuru evaporated in a flash. In its place now burned a fierce anger. “Something he’ll want so much?”

“That’s right. The North is trying to invade the South. I know that much at least.”

“So to get your fifth gemstone, you’ll just sell the entire southern continent to the Empire? Do you even realize what you’re doing?!”

The chiding look melted from Mitsuru’s face, replaced by concern. “Mitani, are you okay?”

He’s really worried.
Wataru had no idea why.
What is he saying?

“You’re babbling, Wataru. Hallucinating.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. Have you forgotten why you came through the Porta Nectere? Was it to become a Highlander? Was it to make lots of friends and live here in Vision forever? I don’t think so.”

Wataru fell silent. His head swirled with things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t find the words for any of them.

“You came here to change your fate in the real world, Wataru. Vision isn’t for us. If we can’t change our fate and go home, then we’ve come all this way for nothing. You’ve forgotten the most important thing.”

Wataru was speechless.

Wataru remembered being scolded by his father once. He hadn’t agreed with something he said, and his father took the time to methodically destroy each of his arguments.
You’re wrong, Wataru. You’re so wrong, you can’t even see it. You’ll just have to accept it.

“I haven’t forgotten what I’m here for,” he finally managed to say in a quiet voice. Mitsuru heard him. Or rather, he knew that was what Wataru was going to say.

“No, you have forgotten. You need to clear your head and give this some thought,” Mitsuru said with a sigh. Then he picked up his staff in his left hand. “Sorry, but I’m in a bit of a hurry. I can’t sit here waiting for you. Once the designs are delivered to the North, it will only be a matter of time before the invasion begins. Things are bad here now, but they’re going to get much worse before this is all over. Say, how many gemstones do you have? If riots—or war—come to the south, finding them won’t be so easy. You might want to get going.”

“It doesn’t matter. If you get to the Tower of Destiny before I do, it won’t matter if I’ve found the gemstones or not. The one left behind becomes the Half.”

Mitsuru had begun to walk away from the stern, but now he turned back, surprised. “The Half? What’s that?”

So there were some things Mitsuru didn’t know. Wataru was surprised, and at the same time pleased. “A sacrifice from the real world is required to remake the Great Barrier of Light,” Wataru said simply. He hadn’t bothered to go into all the detail, but it seemed that Mitsuru understood.

“I see,” he said curtly, nodding. His eyes were wide open.

For the space of a breath, there was silence. Seabirds cried in the distance.

Then Mitsuru continued, as calmly as before, “Then I must hurry all the more. It’s apparent that our best interests lie contrary to each other. Now it seems that there will be a winner and a loser in our little contest. We can’t both win, Wataru. That’s a stroke of bad luck, eh?”

Wataru wasn’t sure what reaction he had expected. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t picture Mitsuru looking alarmed, let alone frightened. In the end, his reaction was quintessentially Mitsuru. Mitsuru had come to Vision and become stronger.

Wataru blinked back tears. He told himself he wasn’t sad.
It’s the sea breeze. It’s the dust stirred up by the twisters.

“Wataru.”

Meena stood standing by his side. Kee Keema was there too.

“What you just said…is it true?” Meena asked, her voice trembling. Wataru nodded quietly.

“That’s ridiculous,” Kee Keema growled. His voice seemed tiny in comparison to his giant frame. “I don’t believe it. Not a word. I don’t believe the Goddess would ever choose you as a sacrifice!”

Wataru looked up into Kee Keema’s big face. He found comfort in those round, kind eyes.

“But you believe that someone from Vision must be sacrificed, don’t you? It’s the same thing.”

“It’s not the same!”

“It is. The only difference is that, in Vision, one is chosen from many, and from the real world, well, it’s just me and Mitsuru to choose from.”

Wataru grabbed Kee Keema’s arm. “The Elder in Sakawa, he knew this. He told me I shouldn’t stray from my course.”

Suddenly, it seemed like Kee Keema had shrunk a full size. “The Elder…” the big waterkin fell silent.

I’m sorry, Kee Keema.

“When did you know this? Why didn’t you tell us sooner? We’re your friends!”

“I know.”

“If we knew earlier, then me and Meena, well, we would have moved quicker, so you could meet the Goddess sooner…we want to help you.”

Kee Keema’s eyes were watering. Wataru felt his own eyes begin to tear up. He jerked his head back toward the sailship. “Mitsuru!”

“What is it now?”

“What would you do if I…” Even as he asked the question, Wataru knew the answer.
Why do I do this to myself?
“What if I said that I don’t care about peace in the south? What if I told you that I came here to get those blueprints just to stop you from getting your final gemstone? What then?”

“What then?”

“What would you do?”

Mitsuru replied without a moment’s hesitation, his voice clear and strong. “Then I would’ve faced you.”
In battle.
Mitsuru stared directly into Wataru’s eyes. “And I would’ve won. I’m stronger. We both know that.”

The strength was sapped from Wataru’s body. Meena, unable to restrain herself any longer, ran to his side for support. Addressing Mitsuru, she shouted, “You call yourself a friend? Do you even have a heart?”

Mitsuru stood smiling, both hands on his staff. He didn’t even look in Meena’s direction.

He lifted the gemstone-tipped staff above his head and began to chant. His voice was too low to be heard from where they stood, but the effect of his words soon became clear.

This spheres of wind hovering above the sea began to stir. They broke apart for a second before coming together as one. Soon they had transformed into a great cloak of wind, wrapping itself around the sailship. Gently, Mitsuru’s sailship rose from the surface of the sea. Riding on a platform of wind, it lifted into the air.

Wataru looked up and made eye contact with Mitsuru. “Goodbye,” he heard him say.

The cloak of wind around the ship undulated, then extended, becoming a tube that stretched out over the endless sea. The sailship carrying Mitsuru slid along it, disappearing into the distance.

Wataru watched it recede, becoming smaller, and finally disappearing where the sky and the sea became one.

He’s gone.

“They’re already out to sea,” Kee Keema said, stunned. “If they can ride like that, there’s no way we’ll catch them by sailship. Once they’re out on the open water, even if his magic runs out, they’ll have the wind in their sails to take them to the north.”

Meena grasped Wataru’s arm with a trembling hand.

—Goodbye.

Wataru had seen a light flash deep in Mitsuru’s eyes. It was a spark, he thought, that reflected an ongoing internal conflict. Despite what he said, Mitsuru was still grappling with a difficult moral dilemma. Would he do the right thing or continue pursuing his personal agenda?

Or maybe there wasn’t a light in his eyes at all. Maybe the conflict was in me—between the half of me that’s given up already, and the other half of me that wants to win. Who’s right? Me or Mitsuru?

So,
Wataru thought,
which is it?

Chapter 41
Night in Gasara

Twilight wrapped itself in a curtain around the town of Gasara.

The large gate at its entrance was closed. Here and there on the giant wall circling the town, torches burned and sputtered, shooting sparks into the sky. There seemed to be more torches now than when Wataru had last been here.
There’s a need for more security, I guess.

Still, even in the midst of all the Halnera turmoil, there had been little rioting in Gasara. More or less, it was business as usual for everyone.

Initially, there had been some fear that Gasara would be susceptible to infiltrators from the North. Because the town was a popular destination point for traders, many believed outsiders would attempt to spread the tenets of the Old God. Yet that was not the case. People who knew the real conditions in the North were less susceptible to rumors. The ankha in Gasara knew first-hand that simple faith in the Old God wouldn’t save them from Halnera.

Most significantly, Gasara had Kutz the Rosethorn, widely regarded as the toughest branch chief in the land. That alone was a huge difference from Lyris. The truth about Halnera didn’t faze her, nor did she let it concern the people in her town. If the Goddess must choose someone to protect Vision, what business was it of theirs to protest? The one chosen by the Goddess was given a great and important task. They should be proud, not quivering with fear.

When people came to her, frightened and worried, she would laugh them away. “Don’t be so obsessed with yourself. The Goddess sees all. I hardly think she would rely on a sniveling coward who’s afraid to die for such a vital task. Sorry, chap, but you were never in the running to be the sacrifice.”

Wataru stood on the watchtower, looking down on the town. The top level was about six stories high. The guard had warned him when he started climbing the ladder.

“If you must climb to the top, boy, I won’t stop you. Just remember, once you start climbing, don’t look down until you’re all the way to the top.”

“Sure thing.”

“You can still turn back, you know.”

“I like heights.”

“Suit yourself.”

Following the guard’s advice, Wataru didn’t look down as he climbed. When he reached the top platform, he stretched his arms and legs, feeling the evening breeze against his cheek. When he looked down he felt himself swoon. Thankfully there was a railing to hold on to.

The guard behind him wore a rope around his waist, carried a megaphone made of copper over his shoulder, and stood with his arms crossed. Every five minutes, he turned to look east, west, south, and north. Three guards per day took turns watching over the town.

Lamps flared in the countless windows of Gasara. Already the lively sounds of customers talking and laughing spilled out of taverns and lodgings. Steam rose from various windows, and the hearty smell of stew drifted through the air. At their post, darbaba stood freshly washed and fed, the dirt of their long journey cleaned away. Next to them, a group of waterkin sat around talking and smoking. From somewhere came the sound of a stringed instrument being plucked.