The Beast Warrior

by Nahoko Uehashi

  What was going on? Why had they been attacked? What were foreigners doing here? She pushed the panicked confusion whirling around her brain to one side and focused on what she should do.

  Yohalu was wounded. If they fought, he would surely be killed. And she would be captured …

  “Don’t kill the woman. She’s worth far more than any Steward…”

  These words kept echoing in her ears. If they caught her, she would be taken away and used. She would rather die than let that happen. The faces of Jesse and Ialu rose in her mind, and tears welled in her eyes. She clenched her teeth.

  The men were coming closer. Mingled with the sounds they made, she heard something else. The hair rose on the nape of her neck.

  Toda!

  The Toda were on the move. Had they caught the scent of Yohalu’s blood? Stealthily, she raised the Silent Whistle to her lips. The touch of the cold metal coupled with the stench of Toda wrenched her back in time, conjuring up a memory so vivid, it cut her heart like a knife.

  Toda circling.

  A dagger clenched between her teeth.

  Her mother’s pale hands.

  And with that memory, an idea flashed through her mind. She grasped Yohalu’s hand, and he looked up at her in surprise. “Can you run?” she whispered in his ear. Yohalu nodded. “Then trust me and do as I do.”

  She rose and dashed in the direction of the river. The ground was invisible in the darkness, and she ran without knowing what lay beneath her feet or what slashed her legs.

  Behind her, she heard shouts and men crashing through the reeds, closing in. The roaring of the river grew louder, and the cloying odor of water and Toda engulfed her. Yohalu followed closely, his breath coming in painful, ragged gasps. The reeds blocking their path vanished, and the ground beneath their feet turned hard. Rocks. Elin slipped on a clump of moss and stumbled. Although she didn’t fall, she banged her fist and couldn’t help letting out a sharp cry.

  The glow of the night sky gilded the river’s surface. Long dark shadows slithered into the water with a quiet splash. She stepped into the river. The current was much stronger than she had expected, pushing against her legs.

  “You’ll never make it by river,” Yohalu gasped. “It’s too fast. And the Toda—”

  There was a loud thud, and his voice was cut short. Elin turned and ran back. “Yohalu!” she cried. He groaned and struggled to rise. Elin slid beneath him and, hoisting him onto her back, staggered doggedly toward the water.

  A large shape forged against the current, and the waves cresting around its head glowed faintly. Nearby, she felt more Toda stirring. The men who had followed her must have felt them, too, because they stopped among the reeds, and began arguing.

  “It can’t be helped,” Aoolu yelled. “We can’t let him live! Shoot! It doesn’t matter if you hit the girl.”

  Bows twanged, and a flurry of arrows sailed through the air. Elin heard a loud whirring by her right ear, and a burning pain shot through her earlobe. A shock ran through her left elbow, as if it had been hit with a club, followed by a fiery agony.

  She heard the sound of a heavy weight mowing down the reeds. Twisting her head, she saw several Toda slither from the reeds into the river. Her pulse pounded like a warning bell. She pressed her fingers to her lips. As she did so, she saw her mother’s face; the sorrow in her eyes. She seemed to say, “You know what will happen if you use the finger whistle, don’t you?”

  Mother.

  For a moment, she closed her eyes and gazed at her mother’s face. Then, she opened them again. Just as the Toda reared and bared their fangs, she blew.

  The notes of her finger flute rose shrill and clear. The high, complex melody rang across the river’s surface and faded. The dark shapes stopped. Like hunting dogs awaiting their master’s signal, they gazed straight at Elin.

  She blew again, high and low, finishing with a flourish of strong, complex modulations. The shadows of the Toda surged forward, racing to her like a pack of dogs. Still bearing Yohalu on her back, she grabbed the horns of the nearest one and climbed on. “Yohalu!” she cried. “Hold on to me!” With a groan, he wrapped his arms around her waist.

  The creature began to run. Water splashed Elin’s face and within moments they were swimming down the river. Arrows rained down. Elin gripped the horns desperately, but she had no strength in her injured arm, and it slipped off. Instantly, the Toda began thrashing about.

  We’ll sink!

  At that moment, a thick arm reached out and grasped the left horn. “The right one, too,” Yohalu gasped. Elin relinquished the other horn. Yohalu slid his hands up to a certain point, turned his wrists at an angle, and gripped both horns strongly. The Toda jerked, then began swimming straight ahead as if it was fleeing for its life.

  “No one,” Yohalu murmured into her ear, “can beat a man of the Black Armor when he grips a Toda’s horns.”

  Riding the torrent, their mount came to the lip of a plunge pool. Kicking with its feet, it crossed the ledge and slid nimbly down the river. The moon had risen, and the water gleamed palely. The Toda glided across the surface as if it were flying.

  4

  THE LORD OF AMASULU

  With each break in the branches overhead, the silver moonlight flashed through, only to vanish again as the darkness closed in. Elin and Yohalu sped through that darkness, entrusting their lives to the Toda.

  It had taken more than half a day to climb the trail to the village, but the Toda swept down the rushing stream with astonishing speed. Where the stream joined the tributary of the Amasulu River, the lights were still on in the houses that lined the road.

  The Toda beneath them began to sink, and Elin blanched. The water was so deep she could not touch bottom. The weight of two adults had taken a toll on the poor creature. It writhed and twisted as it swam, raising its jaw above the surface.

  Yohalu’s rasping breath had sounded in Elin’s ears throughout their journey, but now it came in quick, short gasps. Turning her head, she said, “Hang on. There are houses ahead. Let’s stop somewhere along here and get help.”

  Yohalu muttered something, but the gurgling water drowned out his words. “I’m sorry. What did you say?” Elin asked.

  “Let’s go to Amasulu,” Yohalu gasped. “There’s a little channel just before this tributary joins the river. Let’s pull in there.”

  Elin nodded. This was Yohalu’s home. He knew it best. Relief at seeing houses must have released her taut nerves because the throbbing in her arm became intense. The arrow must have cut deeper than she had thought, and the loss of blood made her feel weak and cold. Yohalu’s breathing grew even shallower. She feared he wouldn’t make it to the channel.

  The river flowed more slowly, and the Toda struggled to stay afloat, sinking and rising and sinking again. Silently, Elin urged it on. Just a little farther now. I’m so sorry. You must be so tired.

  When the broad surface of the Amasulu River appeared ahead, Yohalu suddenly yanked the beast’s horns to the right. It turned into a narrow canal thickly lined with reeds and overshadowed by branches that plunged them into darkness. The channel was barely wide enough for a single Toda to pass. Gradually, the trees thinned, and then a wide vista opened before them.

  Elin blinked. A smooth lawn spread along both sides of the channel. Up ahead she saw a stately manor that looked like it must have belonged to the ruler of the domain. Lights shone in some of the windows, and the smell of hearth fires wafted on the air. A small hut stood by the channel.

  “Go…,” Yohalu gasped. “Get help … Tell them … my name.”

  Elin ducked under Yohalu’s arm and slid her rigid body off the Toda’s back. She slipped into the water gingerly, unable to see the bottom in the dark, but it was shallower than expected; the tips of her toes touched ground when the water reached her chest. Placing her sound arm on the edge of the channel, she wiggled her way out of the water onto the grass. She tried to rise, but her knees gave out. Gritting her teeth, she crawled to the hut, t
hen pounded on the door with her fist.

  The door swung open, and she heard a gasp. Light flooded around her, and she squinted.

  A man knelt beside her. “Who are you?” he demanded. “What’s going on?”

  “Help. Please. Yohalu … in the channel.”

  The man dashed off, and Elin rested against the doorframe. Through her fading consciousness, she heard the man say something to Yohalu. He ran back to the hut and picked up what looked like two pieces of fence that were leaning against the wall. Hurrying back to the channel, he placed one piece at each end of the Toda, then angled them so they pressed against the animal’s head and tail.

  A Toda weir. Elin had seen the Toda Riders tether their mounts in the channels like this when she was young. For some reason, Toda became quite docile when the fence touched their head. She stayed conscious long enough to see the man pull Yohalu from the Toda’s back before she fainted.

  * * *

  For a long time, she lay at the bottom of darkness, listening to faint strains of music that came from far away. The strumming of the strings changed to Leelan’s voice. She saw Leelan fly up into the air, her fur dazzling.

  Ah, she’s going to mate again. Joy and sorrow pierced Elin’s breast.

  She heard the cheerful voice of an official. “The Yojeh is overjoyed to know that the offspring of the Royal Beasts are increasing.”

  Yet for those in power, that was not just a blessing, but also a threat. Which path would they choose: to multiply the Beasts, or destroy them?

  As Elin followed the thread of what would happen and what she should do, she came upon a different memory. The forms of Leelan and Eku disappeared, and she was in a dimly lit room. Someone’s breath brushed against her ear, and a voice groaned, “We shouldn’t do this. Our child will be doomed to bear a cruel fate.”

  Elin shook her head. Sorrow turned to anger, erupting from the bottom of her heart, and tears poured down her cheeks.

  I will never wish that I hadn’t been born. Even if I knew the life I would lead before I came into this world. We can’t choose when or where we’re born. Every living thing has to live the best it can wherever it happens to drop … Is that all you feel about your life? Regret?

  To conceive a life with the one she loved—how could such an act be an abomination? She would never accept that, even if the child were bound by the fetters that constrained her own life.

  But when she saw her son’s face for the first time, when she heard his cry and cradled his warm little body in her arms, a fierce regret tore her heart. This child would have no choice but to be swept up in his parents’ fate. The thought of how much he would suffer made Elin want to scream with fear. Confronted with her red-faced, bawling son, her feeble logic was no support at all.

  Her arms and legs hurt.

  Suddenly she was running through the darkness. Her body felt as heavy as mud, and dense reeds barred her way.

  “Don’t kill the woman. She’s worth far more than any Steward…”

  Squirming shadows rushed up from the depths of darkness. Elin ran for her life. She couldn’t let them catch her. She couldn’t let Jesse suffer the grief of losing his mother.

  Sobbing, she twisted and turned until she shook off the leaden dream. Her breath came in gasps, and she wiped away the tears that streaked her cheeks. The dregs of the dream lingered, and she gazed stupidly into the air, unable to register what she was seeing. Gradually, it dawned on her that she was looking at a ceiling decorated with wooden squares. Each one framed three delicately carved flowers.

  She turned her head, and groaned as pain shot through her. Fumbling, she tried to touch her ear but instead encountered a thick cloth that was bound around her head. With that sensation, memory came flooding back.

  That’s right …

  She remembered being carried into a large room where a doctor, a plump man, had tended her wounds. He had smelled faintly of wine, and she supposed that he had been interrupted in the middle of a bedtime drink. But he’d sewn her up deftly. Her suluma, women’s trousers, had been shredded by the Toda’s scales, and deep scratches covered her legs. The doctor had washed them thoroughly with shilan solution.

  “Imagine riding a Toda without tsuppa to protect your legs!” he had grumbled. “Of all the foolhardy things to do!” He had rattled on like this, but Elin had been too exhausted and weakened from blood loss to care.

  The noises around her had faded to an indistinct murmur that seemed to come from very far away. After she had been given a sedative, she remembered nothing. She supposed they must have carried her to this room. Though small and bare, it was pleasant, and each time the breeze filled the curtains over the window, she caught the faint scent of flowers and grass.

  It must be early afternoon, she thought. She had no idea how long she had slept, whether half a day or a day and a half.

  Somewhere, the soft strains of music sounded again. A quiet tune, like surf washing against the shore. It eased her mind. She half closed her eyes and gave herself up to the melody. Waves rolling in and rolling out … Gradually, the tangled remnants of her dream unwound, and all that was left was a deep lethargy.

  Footsteps approached, and the door opened quietly. It was the doctor. When he saw she was awake, his face brightened. “Ah! You’ve come around,” he said. “I thought you might be awake by now.” He lowered himself onto a chair beside the bed and took her pulse on the wrist of her good arm. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  Elin moistened her lips and said hoarsely, “Quite a bit better. Thank you.”

  The doctor placed a hand on her forehead. “Hmm. Your fever’s gone down. Let me have a look at your legs.”

  He pulled back the covers and unwound the bandages. “Those scratches were covered in mud. I was worried they might fester, but the swelling’s almost gone. Shilan’s very effective.” With pudgy fingers, he began redoing the bandages.

  “How is Yohalu?” Elin asked.

  The doctor raised his eyebrows. “He’s fine. His fever has gone down, too.” His lips twitched. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t call him that in front of anyone else. They might not like it.”

  “What?”

  “The man you so lightly call ‘Yohalu’ is none other than Lord Yohalu Amasulu, who governs this domain.”

  Elin gazed at the doctor silently. Having suspected something of the kind, she was not particularly surprised. But the uneasiness that had lurked in the bottom of her mind now turned to sharp suspicion. If he was lord of the land where Aluhan territory had begun, then his rank and authority must have been substantial. Why would such a person serve as her bodyguard?

  A cold lump began expanding inside her, only to be interrupted by a bright flurry of music. It sounded very close. Elin and the doctor looked toward the window in surprise. A shadowy figure visible through the white curtains wavered each time they fluttered.

  The soft thrumming of the strings reminded Elin of spring sunlight. The musician played a single verse of a love song, then let the tune fade. After a short pause, he said, “My father is worried about you, Elin.” His voice was pleasant; clear yet deep. “It was his duty to protect you, but instead he placed your life in danger.” The man chuckled. “I’m sure you know what my father is like. He has been complaining bitterly that he has disgraced the Black Armor.”

  “Please,” Elin said hastily, “tell him not to think such things.”

  The shadow beyond the curtain nodded. “Thank you. Please rest and let nothing trouble you. I will have them prepare a hot meal that will restore your strength. Eat and sleep well.”

  When the shadow disappeared, the doctor stood up. Looking a little uncomfortable, he left the room, muttering to himself. In the silence, Elin stared blankly at the bright sunshine-filled curtains.

  5

  YOHALU’S CHILDREN

  It was not until the evening of the second day that Elin finally saw the person who had spoken to her from outside the window. Hearing that Elin was recovered enough to be up
and eat proper meals again, Yohalu’s children invited her to have supper with them.

  The lady-in-waiting, who came to escort Elin, helped her to dress. “The dining room is not far,” she told Elin. “It’s just on the other side of the great hall. But unfortunately, the hall is full of soldiers, so I’m afraid I’ll have to take you through the garden and then around by the covered walkway.”

  The commotion inside the hall was so loud that Elin could hear it as they crossed the garden, and the men who passed them along the walkway on the other side wore fierce scowls. A faint musk-like scent hung in the air as the men went by. Elin frowned. The smell of Toda permeated their clothing. They must be Riders, she thought.

  “Is the manor always like this?” Elin asked.

  The woman shook her head with a wry smile. “No, not at all. Although the castle is located on the same grounds, this manor is Lord Amasulu’s home. He usually governs affairs from the castle.” Then she lowered her voice. “He really should rest a little more. He was seriously wounded, but he keeps on summoning soldiers and giving orders even while his bandages are being replaced. It makes us ill with worry to think about it.”

  “How is he?” Elin asked.

  “He says that it’s nothing. But he’s paler than usual. And a wound that bad couldn’t possibly have healed so quickly.”

  While they talked, they came to a large door. “Here we are.” The woman pulled a string that hung beside it, and a little bell rang. She opened the door and gestured for Elin to go inside, then closed the door behind her.

  The room was large with a high ceiling, yet it felt comfortable and pleasant, as if it was a place where the family often gathered. The floor, built a step higher than the passageway outside, was covered in a thick luxurious rug. In the center was a large low table with a recess beneath it for people to put their feet. In winter, the space underneath would have held a charcoal brazier to keep everyone’s legs warm.