Brave Story

by Miyabe, Miyuki

  Mitsuru had to exert himself to not burst out laughing. To think she would tell him such a vital fact without him even having to ask. She was a talkative, dimwitted girl, when it came down to it. And how grateful Mitsuru was for that. The emperor’s daughter was turning out to be his greatest benefactor on his journey yet.

  If the capital city itself is the barrier—Mitsuru mastered his rising elation, taking deep, steady breaths—then destroy the capital and you destroy the barrier along with it.

  He wouldn’t have to destroy the capital as a mere threat to the emperor—its destruction was the very means for achieving his goal!

  All the while, the emperor’s daughter was staring at him with those innocent eyes. How kind, how gentle you are. You do not doubt for a moment what the person to whom you speak might be thinking in his heart of hearts. Nor do you wonder at the true intent of the man who suggested this course of action to you—Adju Lupa.

  It was only natural that the Imperial Family, after maintaining a vicelike grip on the wealth of the north for three hundred years would have many branches. In the course of time some of these relations, with no true claim to the throne themselves, would come to resent the emperor and aspire to depose him. It was for this precise reason that any path Zophie might take to the throne would be a difficult one.

  Sigdora were the faithful hounds of the emperor, but even hounds have a will of their own, Mitsuru knew. And they were ever ready to switch to a new master—a stronger one, who promised sweeter rewards. Was Adju Lupa not one of these? By whispering to the emperor’s daughter he hoped to spur Mitsuru into motion, stir things up, perhaps frame whatever commotion resulted as the failing of the current emperor. And, of course, there would be someone behind him whispering in his ear, dangling some treat before his nose…

  Who cares, as long as it serves my ends?

  I know what you’re up to, Lupa. And I thank you for it.

  Adju Lupa was as clueless as the emperor’s daughter. When Mitsuru really took action, it wouldn’t be on the level of a failing of Gama Agrilius VII. It wouldn’t even be close. They’ve sorely underestimated me—a miscalculation that will cost them everything.

  “Let us call back your servants. The wind’s picking up,” Mitsuru said cheerily. “I would not be able to sleep at night if I knew you had caught a cold on my account.”

  Zophie patted her blushing cheek, smiling. She reached out to pick up the silver bell to summon her servants when Mitsuru stopped her. “Tell me one last thing. If the Mirror of Eternal Shadow is so strongly protected, how can there be accidents such as the one that befell your servant, making shells out of men?”

  In an instant, Zophie looked more troubled and haunted than he had ever seen her. The blush in her cheeks faded. “Well, that’s…”

  “A form of punishment?”

  She leaped from her chair, clinging to his hand. “Yes, that’s it. Most of them are, at least. Terrible criminals, or traitors to the Empire, those who cannot be reformed…”

  “So you break the seal for a moment and show them the Mirror of Eternal Shadow on purpose?”

  “Yes,” she said, wilting visibly. “It is…quite cruel, I know. But it can’t be helped.”

  “I understand, I do.”

  “The fact is that it is often more convenient for those who serve our family to be shells—convenient, and safe. Those who do the small work at the castle, they are not, well…they are not great warriors or scholars, you see. They are lower folk.” As she spoke, she closed her eyes as if to say she pitied them.

  What a piece of work she is.

  “But it’s not as if it happens all the time. To undo the barrier and approach the Mirror of Eternal Shadow, my father and the high priest must both be present, and there is a ceremony. It takes a great deal of effort. That, and the high priest is often away from the capital checking on his churches in other parts of the Empire. You have not met him yet, have you, Master Mitsuru? He’s a busier man than even my father.”

  Mitsuru nodded, and his mind wandered. He imagined a scene where captives in shackles were led in a great line, like a string of beads, their every move watched by Imperial Guards. Down they were brought, down before the Mirror of Eternal Shadow. One by one, they were pushed toward the mirror.

  This empire is even more twisted than I had imagined.

  “So this means that many of the people who serve at the Crystal Palace are shells—and I have just not noticed.”

  “Yes…but, I’d think your time wouldn’t be well spent looking for them, Master Mitsuru.”

  “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind,” Mitsuru said with a winning smile. “As I said, I merely asked out of my curiosity as a Traveler.”

  Zophie summoned her servants, and they began clearing the table. Mitsuru watched them, armed with his new knowledge. If he could learn to identify the shells among the people working at the Crystal Palace…

  It would save him the trouble of leaving the capital to find the resources he needed.

  After waving goodbye to Zophie, Mitsuru stood awhile in the Garden of Victory, the wind rustling his long hair and robes. His hands hung by his side, clenched into tight fists.

  In those fists, he now held something beautiful: determination.

  The fate of the Imperial Capital of Solebria was decided.

  Chapter 47

  The Isle of Dragon

  When the northern shore appeared on the horizon, the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. Already they could smell the sea.

  “That’s Batista—the fishing port of Bog,” Meena told them, pointing to at a cluster of houses in the distance.

  Wataru’s first impression was that this port didn’t look anything like Sono. White dunes rolled and twisted along the long, flat shoreline. Small fishing boats floated here and there, none far from shore. Women walked across the sand doing what they could to help the fishermen. Children busied themselves searching for shells.

  Jozo wasn’t flying as high as he had been when they visited Dela Rubesi. Wataru could see people on the shore reacting to the sight of the dragon. Some children waved. Wataru waved back, half to assure them that this dragon suddenly appearing in the sky meant them no harm.

  “You firewyrms sure are popular,” Kee Keema shouted.

  “They’re creatures of legend, after all!” Meena said.

  “They never talked about how cold it was up here in the legends.”

  “Shall I fly lower?” Jozo asked. A giant eyeball as big as Wataru’s fist turned slowly toward them, and blinked. “Say, Wataru…”

  “What is it?”

  “We’ll be heading out over the sea soon…I just wanted to ask—are you sure about this? You really want to go north?”

  “We are sure. Is something wrong?”

  Kutz, sitting toward the back, picked up her ears. Wataru glanced back over his shoulder at the branch chief and lowered his voice. “If something’s wrong, tell us now, please.”

  “Well…” Jozo blinked several times. “I feel bad, after promising to take you anywhere…”

  “You can’t go to the north? Is it too far?”

  “No, not at all. Fly straight, and we’d be there in two nights’ time.”

  The dragon’s tongue flicked out between his sharp fangs. “Only, remember when I went with you to Dela Rubesi? After that, I went back to our island. I told the wyrmking about what we saw in Dela Rubesi—the Goddess’s wrath.”

  The wyrmking had become greatly concerned and gathered all the dragons on the island, and asked them, for the time being, to avoid long trips. They were to stay near the island so that they could gather at any time in case of an emergency.

  “This never happens. We children are expected to fly all sorts of places, see lots of things. Of course, we’re not supposed to make too many friends on the ground. Like Meena says, we’re mostly legends in many parts of the land, and because we’re quite strong, if we chose to get involved in land-dwellers’ conflicts, well…”

 
“I’m sorry—if I had known what was going on—I hope that using the flute wasn’t a bad idea.”

  “No, no, it’s fine.” Jozo shook his head violently. The motion made his back lurch, and Kee Keema nearly fell off, clinging to the notches where one of Jozo’s wings met his body. Meena giggled, but Kutz’s eyes were fixed on Wataru and the dragon.

  “You saved my life, after all. The wyrmking always says, if we are in debt to someone on the ground, we must repay them in full. You’re a special case.”

  “I’m grateful for that, but it worries me what the wyrmking said.”

  “Me too, that’s why I was kind of hoping that we could go to our island before going north. It won’t take too long. It’s on the way. I’d like to make a formal request to the wyrmking before heading any further. You think that’d be okay?”

  It wasn’t a question Wataru could answer. He looked around at Kutz, who stood up on the dragon’s back, and hunching over, crawled up to him. “What’s going on?”

  Wataru explained. Kutz frowned a moment, then inched up closer to Jozo’s head and patted him on the neck, getting his attention. “Sorry for getting you involved in all this, dragon. We really need to go to the north—it’s imperative.”

  “You’re the leader of this crew, right?” Jozo asked. “Can I ask why you’re going? I can’t help but feel like you’re heading into some kind of danger.”

  Wataru wondered how much Kutz was ready to tell him. He glanced at her face, but before she could say anything, Jozo asked Wataru to take out his wyrmflute. Wataru reached into his pocket. When he brought the wyrmflute out, he found it had snapped clean in two. “See, you can’t use it again. It won’t make any noise.”

  “I know…”

  “If you’re going to the north to do something dangerous, that worries me. I can drop you off and leave, but if something happens, I won’t be able to hear you, no matter how loud you yell. On the other hand, if I were to hang around and wait for you, I’d stick out like a, well, like a dragon. Can’t imagine that would aid your mission much. Am I right, Ms. Leader?”

  Kutz smiled grimly. Her black hair swirled in the wind from the dragon’s wings, brushing against her cheek. “You’ve a keen eye, Mr. Dragon.”

  “Name’s Jozo, ma’am.”

  “I’m Kutz. Sorry for not introducing myself earlier. I’m branch chief back in Gasara. We have deep and profound respect for your ancestor.”

  “I could tell by the armband.”

  “Thank you, Jozo, for telling us this. We will go to the Isle of Dragon. Still, I wonder if it’s really okay to bring land dwellers such as ourselves to the home of the dragons? I wouldn’t want to get you in any more trouble than we already have.”

  “It’s no problem,” Jozo replied. “You’re Highlanders, after all. Besides, I’m sure the wyrmking had a good reason for making his request—and I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to pass that knowledge on to the Highlanders.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah. My parents said pretty much the same thing. They said the time might come again when we have to leave our island and join forces with the people who live on the land.”

  Again? Wataru and Kutz exchanged glances.

  “Did that happen sometime in the past?”

  “It was before I was born, about three hundred years ago. Something happened in the north and the dragons left their island to fight.”

  “Three hundred years ago? That would be around the end of the War of Unification,” Kutz muttered. “Do you mean to say that dragons fought in that war?”

  “Not in the war, no, no. Dragons never get involved in land-dweller conflicts, or take sides. Especially not something like the War of Unification.”

  “Then what did you fight?”

  “Demonkin,” Jozo replied immediately.

  From the way Kutz’s eyes looked, Wataru guessed it was her first time hearing the word too.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m not so sure myself. We’re not supposed to talk about the demonkin—it’s taboo. Still, they sound like incredibly dangerous, terrible foes. If we dragons hadn’t flown from our island, all Vision might’ve been destroyed, they say.”

  “There is much we do not know about the history of the north,” Kutz admitted. “We’ll have to ask this wyrmking.”

  “Do you think he’d just tell us?”

  “Never know, unless we ask,” Kutz said. The idea of chatting with a king of dragons didn’t seem to faze her.

  “Then that’s it. I’ll introduce you to my parents! My dad’s amazing! He’s at least three times as strong as I am.” Jozo grinned with pride.

  Wataru wondered if Jozo’s parents worried about him when he ventured far away. And here I am dragging him across Vision on my errands.

  “We’re heading out over the open sea pretty soon. We’ll be in the Stinging Mist before long. Everybody, keep your heads low and stay between my wings. Don’t sit up, whatever you do. The mist will run you through like a thousand tiny swords.”

  As he spoke, Jozo gave a powerful beat of his wings, and their speed increased.

  The island looked like a dragon sleeping quietly in a corner of the mistshrouded sea. It was actually shaped like a dragon’s head and neck. It even had two horns. Its large eyes were closed. Two round nostrils—probably mountains—looked up toward the sky. It had a massive, protruding jaw, and sharp fangs where rugged fjords formed a small bay. This scene would’ve looked perfectly at home in a museum with a label like “Dragon Taking a Leisurely Bath,” if only it weren’t so cold, and the sea wasn’t the color of pale blue ice.

  “Hardly needs introduction,” Kee Keema whispered, peering out from beneath Jozo’s wing. “But I’m guessing that’s the Isle of Dragon!”

  “That’s right! Home!”

  A thick mist veiled the sea from the air, but they could tell that around the island there was nothing but open water. No small outlying islands or even rocks were visible. In all things, the dragonkin stood alone.

  “Whoa! Whoa! Stay down, you all!” Jozo called back frantically. “We’re still in the Stinging Mist!”

  “You’re right,” Meena said, putting a hand to her face. “I felt a sting!” A small drop of blood formed below her right eye.

  “Me too,” said Kutz, holding down her hair to keep it from blowing up in the wind. Two lines of blood trickled down her forehead.

  Wataru shivered. Mitsuru passed through this. He must’ve used his magic to create a barrier to protect himself…

  Seeing the mist firsthand, it now made sense that sailships had to plan their departures from the south carefully. Clear, too, was the value of the starseers’ ability to predict when the winds would blow just right so a ship might make the crossing while avoiding the mist. But what struck Wataru the most was the realization that powered ships—without sails or oars—could be easily piloted from inside a cockpit. The army that had those would rule Vision.

  Jozo’s scales sure are tough.

  “Don’t your eyes hurt, Jozo?”

  “Not a bit. I’m just a little cold—but it will be warm when we reach the island.”

  Jozo had told him that the dragon island was volcanic. Wataru craned his neck, looking for cones among the mountains on the island below. Just then, as though it had been planned, a puff of white steam from the two hills that were the dragon’s nose rose up into the air.

  The closer they got, the more impressed they became with the sheer size of the island. It made sense, when you considered how large Jozo was, and that he was only a child. There would be a limit to how many adult dragons you could cram onto a smaller island.

  The ground itself was barren, like a giant rock had been carved into the shape of the dragon’s head and left to steep in the water. Wataru couldn’t see a single blade of grass.

  Jozo seemed to be heading for a spot between the dragon’s horns, where the various rocks and boulders had been cleared away to form a kind of landing strip.

  Jozo des
cended in a slow spiral, making for the clearing. When the mist finally cleared around them, Wataru spotted two dragons sitting by the edge of the clearing, looking up at them. Compared to Jozo’s ruby-like coloring, these firewyrms were a more subdued, darker shade of red.

  “My parents!” Jozo said. Then he called down to the dragons on the ground below them. “Father! Mother! I’ve brought Wataru!”

  Wataru was half expecting to see a family scene with Jozo getting scolded for bringing people to the island. Jozo’s parents were at least twice his size—even their fangs were as thick as Wataru’s wrists.

  Jozo touched down, and Wataru and the others hesitantly clambered down onto the rocky ground. Thankfully, Wataru’s fears were misplaced, for, while the gust of wind from Jozo’s parent’s nostrils was steamy, and their voices boomed, the words they greeted them with were as gentle as a spring day.

  “Welcome home, Jozo. And welcome, Traveler. Has Jozo been an aid to you?”

  It was first suggested that they warm their chilled bodies in the hot springs.

  “You have hot springs?”

  “The island is a volcano.”

  Kee Keema, sluggish with the cold, and Meena were both ecstatic.

  “I’ve never been in a hot spring!” Meena exclaimed. Kutz alone seemed impatient to get on with the mission. But it turned out that a wait was in order regardless.

  “The wyrmking is resting, and it will take some time to arrange the Council of Fang and Wing. Go to the hot springs, and I believe we shall be ready when you are done,” Jozo’s mother told them.

  “What is the Council of Fang and Wing?”

  “This is what we call a meeting of all dragons,” Jozo’s father answered. “Our daily affairs are decided by the wyrmking and the seven pillars—one chief dragon from each clan—yet when important things are to be decided, all dragons on the isle come together to speak.”

  The dragons on the island were all descendants of the great firewyrm, yet still, there were slight physical differences between them in the shape of their wings or the count of their fangs. They had been divided into seven types by these characteristics. Each of these types formed clans, and each of these clans had a chieftain, called the pillar. Thus, the seven pillars, Jozo’s father told them.