In the distance, a small galaxy of lights twinkled in the darkness, distant like the lights of the skyscrapers seen from Galla’s sanctum, but without distortion. The sense of perspective was exactly what Kotaro was used to. The natural environment was compellingly real.
For a moment he forgot he was no longer human. He felt like a college student teleported to a mystery destination. Where was he? Europe? South America, maybe? Was this vast plain a nature preserve?
Where there are lights, there are people.
“That is the fortress.” Galla raised a hand and pointed. “Its proper name is the Hall of All Books. It holds thousands of them, stories that cannot be allowed to leave this place.”
“You mean, like a library?”
She smiled. “Just so.”
“Then it must be the biggest library in the Circle.” Judging from the number of lights and their size and distribution, the Hall of All Books had to be far larger than the Tower of Inception.
A pinpoint of light separated from the rest and moved flickeringly away. Then another and yet another began moving in the same direction, forming a string of lights.
“The nameless devout,” Galla said. “They go to their labors.”
“Labors? You mean they have to work?”
She turned to peer at him. “There is no work here.”
He remembered what U-ri had told him, that the nameless devout had to turn the Great Wheels of Inculpation for eternity. Wasn’t that work? But the nameless devout were confined here because of some sin they’d committed. Maybe if you were a prisoner, what you had to do every day wasn’t considered work.
“The devout are not human,” Galla said. “They were human once, but no longer.” She paused. “Your wolf said U-ri’s brother was a nameless devout.”
She shook her head lightly, sending her hair floating behind her in the wind off the plain, and began to walk. Kotaro followed, pressing the grass beneath his feet. He too was a monster, no longer human. No longer Kotaro Mishima.
They moved side by side, neither of them human, treading the grass heavy with dew. Kotaro was quietly grateful for the compassion he felt in its touch. Because of the grass, he did not have to see his own footprints.
Galla had not drawn her weapons. She seemed utterly calm. Where was the gate, Kotaro wondered. Was it a long way from where they were?
As if in answer to his question, a light streaked across a corner of the sky. “A shooting star!” Kotaro was a child again, enchanted.
As though his cry of wonder were a trigger, one glowing trail followed another through the heavens, fainter and more ephemeral than the lights in the Hall of All Books, but like miniature jewels against the veil of night. The sight was beautiful—and to Kotaro, thoroughly familiar, no different from the world he called home.
Trees rose into view, dotted in far-off clumps, dense groves of trees and low hills. The trees were old and gnarled, spreading their branches close to the ground. They stood out against the sky like props on a grassy stage. Kotaro’s eyes were those of a monster and of a child. Everything appeared new and wonderful to his sight.
But something cold and ominous reared into view that extinguished the pure curiosity and excitement of a boy discovering a new land. It was a black barricade, a barrier to those who would approach the Hall of All Books in the heart of the Nameless Land. With each step the barrier loomed higher, but Galla’s pace did not slow. Kotaro’s heart beat faster. He quickened his pace.
What from a distance had seemed to be a spaced line of iron palings turned out to be enormous pikes with their heads buried in the earth. They reached so high that their far ends were out of sight in the mist. At the foot of the pikes was a solid line of huge black shields, each inscribed with a pentagram that glowed a dull silver.
The shields were iron. The pentagrams were quicksilver. The night wind blowing through the barrier carried a faint trace of lead.
The barricade was not here to protect the castle. It was unlike anything one would erect to protect a town.
The barrier was a cage. The fortress was a prison.
“Halt.”
Galla raised a hand. She stopped before the barrier.
4
Kotaro squinted into the darkness.
The lights of the Hall of All Books twinkled beyond the barrier, but seemed no closer than before. The endless line of pikes and shields seemed to have dropped from the sky, like the groves of ancient trees among the hills. Perhaps they were nothing more than visions conjured up from memory, in a place that was real but did not exist.
Then he saw that two shields in the line were missing their pentagrams. Their surfaces were smooth, unmarked black. Galla raised her right arm in one smooth motion, drew a scythe, and pointed it at the left shield.
“Here the Circle begins.”
Was that Galla’s voice? Kotaro didn’t see her lips move. The voice was deep and resonant, like an incantation.
An eye opened in the shield, as though a giant were awakening. It was golden with a spindle-shaped obsidian iris, the eye of a demon, like Galla’s when she assumed her true form.
She raised her left arm, drew the second scythe, and pointed it at the right shield.
“Here the Circle ends.”
An eye opened in the second shield. The sclera was obsidian, the iris gold. Kotaro shied away instinctively. Some intuition told him it would be better not to face that penetrating gaze.
Holding her weapons lightly, still pointed at the shields, Galla called again. This time there was no mistake. It was her voice, clear and ringing.
“Sentinel of the Gate! The Skulls of Origin are with me. I would pass the barrier and enter the Hall of All Books. The duel is nigh!”
The eyes on the shields opened wider. A stronger light shone forth. A rumble began deep underground. Kotaro cowered in alarm. He stumbled and put a huge, brutish hand on the ground. The earth under his feet shuddered. Something huge beyond belief, sealed in silence and darkness for time beyond reckoning, was stirring.
A section of the barrier about twenty yards across, with the eyes at its center, started sinking into the earth. Some enormous power was pulling the barrier downward. As Kotaro watched, dumbfounded, the eyes on the central shields closed, as though returning to sleep, and sank out of sight.
Galla lowered her weapons and looked straight up. Kotaro followed her gaze. So this is how it opens, he thought.
No, it’s not over. The ground was still quaking. The barrier was sinking quickly, but its upper limit was not yet in sight.
At last a deeper darkness appeared above their heads, entangled in the ends of the descending pikes. A giant chain? The shape was wrapped in layers around the barrier, or maybe entangled in it. As the pikes sank toward the ground, it came clearly into view.
It was not a chain, not a rope, not metal at all. It was not alive.
A stone dragon stared out across the plain, the guardian of the Nameless Land and the seal to the barrier that surrounded the Hall of All Books.
Kotaro sensed he was not looking at a statue. A dragon had perched on the barrier and turned to stone. Its fangs were savage. One wing was outstretched, the other folded. The claws of the left front leg clutched the barrier. The right was raised, ready to strike. The rear legs clasped the barrier, flexed powerfully, ready to spring into the air. With the dragon still high above their heads, the barrier stopped sinking. The gate was not yet open.
“Step away.”
Kotaro looked uncertainly at Galla. Were her words meant for him?
“Get behind me. Now.”
He found himself unable to move. He tried to speak, though he was not sure what he wanted to say.
“Galla …”
“The Sentinel is here.” She peered at him steadily and nodded. “I will not fail.”
He stepped backward stiffly, lost his fo
oting and sat on the ground with a thump. With his eyes glued to the Sentinel, he could only retreat crabwise, pushing himself backward with his heels.
Galla adjusted her grip on the scythes and stepped forward. “Ill-starred Sentinel!” Her voice resounded. “Here the Circle—begins!”
She raised the scythe in her right hand, planted her feet, coiled her muscles and hurled the weapon upward with all her strength. The scythe flew, spiraling end over end like a boomerang.
There was a hard, metallic impact as the blade sank deep into the dragon’s left shoulder. The long handle vibrated with a groaning hum. Kotaro was reminded suddenly of the poisonous insects of Makoto’s giant.
“Ill-omened Sentinel!” she called again, more powerfully now, and hurled the scythe in her left hand.
“Here—the Circle ends!” The scythe sank deep into the dragon’s right shoulder.
The blades were embedded nearly to the tang, as though the Skulls of Origin were sinking their teeth into the dragon’s shoulders. Their eyes blazed forth with exultation, predators biting their prey.
Wild laughter. The skulls were laughing with joy!
Still rejoicing, teeth flashing, they began to dissolve. Their flaming eyes went out before they crumbled into fine black dust blown away in the wind. With the skulls gone, the handles of the scythes clattered down the dragon’s flanks and fell at Galla’s feet.
“You have your cravings,” she called. “Rise and face me, defiled one!”
The surface of the stone began to fissure. Color and texture and life returned to the petrified monster.
This was why Galla had needed to gather craving. The gigantic Sentinel crouched atop the Gate of Sorrows was coming to life. Its eyes were the last to revive. The lids opened and the eyes moved in their sockets. Their pupils were black holes at the far reaches of the universe.
The dragon twisted on its perch. It raised its head high and flexed its wings. Its eyes found Galla and flashed with menace.
She’s unarmed. How is she going to fight?
Galla gave a piercing war cry. The dragon answered with a howl that shook the ground and raised a swirling wind. Eyes locked on her foe, Galla spread her arms wide and began her transformation.
The shadow of her legs grew massive. Her silhouette blocked Kotaro’s field of vision. He realized that what he’d seen when she harvested Keiko Tashiro had been a pale likeness of her true form. She was not just the model for humanity’s gargoyles, demons whose power and appearance evoked fear and fascination. Her true form was far more frightening, far more powerful and repulsive. An entity greater than anything that ever lived, born of power and darkness and chaos, real yet nonexistent.
The dragon leaped from the barrier and plummeted toward her. Still supine with his hands on the ground behind him, Kotaro watched the duelists collide.
Shigenori hunched his shoulders as a sudden chill ran up his spine.
It was 9:35 p.m. He and Shigeru Noro were standing at the service entrance of the tea caddy building. Aizawa from Labbra Technofusion, upbeat as ever, stood alongside them. A security technician sat on a stepladder with a laptop on his knees, verifying the operation of the new security system.
Aizawa had only informed Shigeru about the system the day before. Since late the previous year, the tea caddy building—still in legal limbo as far as ownership went—had seen a series of strange incidents and intrusions, though how people were getting in was unknown. Perhaps the rumors about the rooftop gargoyle had inspired people to break in. Aizawa’s bosses had decided to install security cameras, and changed the locks for good measure. Now the cameras were up and running.
“We should’ve managed this property better,” Aizawa said apologetically. “I’m sorry for any concern we might’ve caused the neighborhood association. I wanted to make sure you see the new system. If this puts your minds at ease, you won’t have to do any more nighttime patrolling.”
This little demonstration was probably his idea, not his bosses’. Shigeru wanted Shigenori to come along so he could give a presentation on the system at the next association meeting. “You’d better explain it to the board,” he’d said. “I’m not a hardware kind of guy.”
The hottest part of the summer was over, but the city nights were still tropical. The humidity had been unusually bad for the past few days, and in the concrete jungle of West Shinjuku, just standing around at half past nine at night was enough to leave everyone moist with perspiration.
So why am I feeling so cold? Shigenori wondered.
“Are you all right?” Shigeru asked. Shigenori’s polo shirt was stuck to his back with sweat.
“I don’t know, maybe it’s a summer cold.”
“Now that you say so, you look a little pale.” Shigeru peered at him curiously. “Maybe it’s just the street lights.”
The security rep was explaining how the motion detectors worked. The LED above the back door was almost like a laser. Aizawa blinked as the technician triggered and disabled it over and over.
“Well Mr. Aizawa, that’s enough light for the darkest night, I would think,” Shigenori said and clapped the young man’s broad back. He noticed that moving around made the chill weaker.
“Thank you, Mr. Tsuzuki.” Aizawa smiled. “But are you sure you don’t want to go inside and see more?”
“You don’t want to get into more trouble with your boss.” Aizawa had gotten a scolding for letting Shigenori and Shigeru into the tea caddy building in the first place without consulting his superiors.
“They won’t find out,” Aizawa said. “I’ll keep my mouth shut this time.”
Shigeru rolled his eyes. “You mean you told them before?”
“I said I had Mr. Tsuzuki come along because I’ve got this thing about ghosts. Everyone had a laugh except the head of our legal department. He threw a fit.”
The three men chuckled. Even the taciturn security rep managed a thin smile. Shigenori was still distracted by his sudden chill; he rubbed the back of his neck and hunched his shoulders, trying to banish the sensation.
“So your legal guy has a fit, then sends you here again without an escort?” Shigeru shook his head. “Maybe he doesn’t want to touch it,” he said with a smile.
Aizawa took this utterly seriously. He lowered his voice. “You know, I think he’s afraid of ghosts, too.”
Shigeru burst out laughing. The sound echoed along the dark street a stone’s throw from the restaurants and bars.
“I hope we unload this place soon,” Aizawa added.
“That might be a good idea,” Shigeru said.
The security rep turned his laptop to show them the video feeds from the cameras in and outside the building. The split screen let the user monitor four feeds at once.
“Looks like you spent a lot on this,” said Shigenori. “I’ll go around to the main entrance. Yell if you can see me.”
“Will do!”
With Shigeru’s cheery call echoing off the building, Shigenori left the men peering at the monitor and started toward the front entrance along the narrow space between the building and its surrounding wall. When he emerged on the other side, he stopped short in astonishment.
The entrance had been tidied up; the heavy chain and padlock were gone. A young woman in a bulky leather jacket and hobnailed boots was leaning against the double doors. Shigenori had seen that pale face and lissome silhouette before.
“You!”
The girl straightened up and motioned for silence.
He glanced behind him and hurried over to her. A smile showed at the corners of her mouth. “Don’t worry, your friends can’t see me. I’m still more real than my master, but people who can’t see me, can’t.”
She was talking gibberish. He remembered that about her. This was the girl who’d appeared out of nowhere with her “master,” a man in black, the second time Shigenori had met—in
terrogated—Galla on the roof of the building. She’d talked gibberish then too.
Yuriko, or U-ri. That was her name.
“Galla passed some of her power to you, I see. Not as much as she gave Kotaro, but that’s why you can see me.”
Shigenori felt a flicker of unease. “Who are you?” he said quietly.
“There’s no time to go through all that again. Kotaro can tell you.” She reached out and took him by the hand. Her slender fingers hid surprising strength.
“In fact, that’s why I’m here. I want you to send your thoughts to him so he can come back and tell you himself. Please keep thinking about him. If you call to him in your heart, I think he’ll hear you.”
“What’s going on?” Shigenori saw the urgency in the girl’s eyes.
“He crossed over,” she murmured. A tiny tear welled up in the corner of one eye. “I tried to stop him, but he went anyway. It’s starting.”
To Shigenori this was just more nonsense. He hadn’t a clue as to what she meant. Then again, maybe he did understand, at least a little. And that scared him.
“Did he go somewhere with Galla?”
U-ri nodded. The tear ran down her cheek. Her mouth was set, solemn and brave.
“What’s this about something starting?”
Shigeru called out cheerily from the rear of the building. “We can see you. Move around a little.”
U-ri let go of his hand. Shigenori raised and dropped his arms as though he were doing calisthenics. He heard Aizawa laughing.
“Mistress Galla will defeat the Sentinel,” U-ri said. “It’s a rule of the Nameless Land. No one who gets as far as the Gate of Sorrows is ever defeated. That means …” She bit her lip. “It means Kotaro will never return.”
The Gate of Sorrows Page 57
