How perfect it was that he mentioned the shrine. There was something he wanted to ask before going to the monastery and meeting the monk there.
“Is there a reason why the black Holy Mother is facing away from us?”
There was no doubt that the line dividing plants on the mountain was that distinct because of those cliffs. Besides, the withering river had changed into a spindly sea, and in the middle of its flow sat that cave. That being the case, it certainly gave the impression that she was praying for it to come back to life.
“Ha-ha, a studious priest you are. Not something you see every day.”
Col was not a priest, but it did not seem that the captain really thought he was one, either. The sense he got was that was just how the captain termed anyone who looked like a man of the Church.
“Most of the guys from the south don’t pay any attention to this land. So that makes me happy. I’ll gladly tell you.”
As he worked the oars, he cleared his throat.
“This is a story from back when my gramps was a kid. When a dragon still lived at the bottom of the sea.”
As they got farther out onto the open water, the wind grew stronger and the waves grew higher. Col squinted his eyes as the water sprayed him, and the captain stared off distantly, vigorously pulling the oars.
“We’ve been fishermen for generations, and our boats have always been made from wood. But it’s cold up here, you know. Trees take a long time to grow; people generally cut them down faster. The islands around here lost their woods quickly, and soon there was nothing but grassland. Now, the only trees left standing are in Caeson, and it’s been like that for a long time.”
Even if they considered the entire journey by ship from Atiph, there was no doubt that Caeson was the only island that held any trees.
“We live with the sea, and we need to use wood to cross it. We had no choice but to rely on the trees in Caeson. It’s like the candle of our life, allowing us to hold on as long as the flame is still lit. But…”
Then the boat rocked and nearly tilted over, and Col hurriedly clung to the side. He held out a hand to Myuri, who had collapsed, and when he looked back to the port, he could nearly no longer see it through the haze. He could only see the fuzzy blackness of the mountain.
“We don’t know why, but God had become angry.”
Col held Myuri with one hand, gripping the side of the boat with the other; then he looked at the captain, who took a deep breath, then exhaled deeply.
“The mountain spit out fire.”
The goats, who were typically unfazed by anything, had apparently been agitated all day, and something strange had caused the birds to all take flight as well. The captain said that though it was currently the snowy season, the air was warm as if it were spring.
Then, the ground groaned, the mountain shook, and the snow that fell was not cool and white but instead hot and black. Rather than snowmelt, molten stone traveled down the river toward the town, burning everything in its path.
“There weren’t enough ships. Gramps, who was just a kid at the time, somehow got on a ship, but it was crammed with people and there was no way it could get out to sea. They only went out far enough that they could still see the faces of the people stuck in the port, and there was nothing else they could do but watch the burning mountain and wait as hell itself approached them. The place he lived burned; the bread of their life that was the forest burned; his parents and brothers and sisters still in the port were about to meet the same fate, but at the very least, he was on the water. The frigid waters would be able to cool and harden even molten rock. His heart felt like it would be torn from the feelings of both despair and relief.”
If there was a ship that would save people’s lives, then it was only natural for them to climb aboard. But accepting that would do nothing to lighten the pangs of guilt. Even during the commotion in Atiph, when Hyland put her life on the line and went to the Church, the most logical choice for Col and Myuri was to escape by themselves. Though Hyland had also strongly encouraged them to do so, Col had still almost been crushed by his own powerlessness and guilt.
“But when almost the entire top half of the mountain was covered in fire, my gramps could see someone walking on the snowfields toward the mountain. Silhouetted by the flames was a woman. The guys watching from the port and the water thought it was someone who’d completely given in to despair. Then, the moment that figure stood in the river, that road of the flames, a miracle happened.”
The captain spoke as though he had seen it himself, likely because he had heard the story countless times, and the images had ingrained themselves into his mind like he had seen the event himself.
Even Col could imagine what the people on the ships had seen when he turned around to look.
“The hellfire pouring down the mountainside dammed up in the middle of the river. It was split in two and began to die down. Maybe it was a lucky thing that the snow had been so deep. The molten rock, split in two, rolled slowly down the hill; then, cooled by the snow, it hardened. The cooled rock became an embankment, preventing anything flowing after it.”
That was what those sudden cliffs were. To be able to stop such a flow of molten rock, it must have been huge—something that would leave behind a giant cavern.
“The top half of the mountain had been razed, but the bottom half was fine. While smoke still rose from the stones, people ran to where the miracle happened. Beyond the strange rock face, still smoking and red from the heat in places, was a big cavern. It looked like the entrance to hell itself, smoke billowing from it. Apparently, molten rock dripped from the ceiling, like the stomach acid of a great beast. And then, in the entrance—sitting there was a pitch-black lump of charcoal.”
When Col saw the shrine, he had the unshakable feeling that he had seen it somewhere before.
And that had not just been his imagination. It was almost identical to an old legend from the village he was born in. Once, when a flash flood came crashing down the mountain toward the village, a large frog god appeared and bravely offered itself to save the village—there were such tales in any region.
That being said, it was one thing for a frog to stand against water, but the woman who appeared in Caeson halted the burning flow of molten rocks.
“And so, the Black-Mother…”
The captain glanced at Col when he murmured.
“She was the one who saved us from danger.”
As the man spoke, he lightly tapped his waistcloth. Col thought for a moment that the captain had a dagger stored underneath, but it was most likely where he kept his figure of the Black-Mother.
“Half the trees that supported our livelihood were lost, but after that, our people had terrific fishing season after terrific fishing season. Then, maybe as a reminder of the Black-Mother, we even found veins of coal. Everyone, including my gramps, worked hard and saved money and bought lumber from faraway lands. They wouldn’t touch the trees on the island. Thanks to that, though, now it looks a bit more like a proper forest. And that’s why the colors are different, as you see them.
The stark difference in colors of the forest was not because the plants were different species but because the ages of the trees.
“And that was when the monastery was…?”
“Yeah.”
Col turned to face forward again, and the mass of earth he had seen in the distance had now come into view.
He could see a stone building squatting between two rock formations that extended out like horns.
A small boat was docked at the shabby pier.
Removed from all the impurities of the mortal world, there was no place more perfect than this to concentrate on prayer.
“I’ve heard that my gramps’ gramps, the ones who built the monastery, had a political reason for building it at the time. Because unlike now, the war against the pagans was truly raging during his time.”
For generations, the Church had been obsessed with subduing the pagans in the northla
nds. Even in the current day, there were many who regarded the region with suspicious eyes, but it must have been truly terrible years back.
“They realized that if they built a church, then people would come here from the mainland, asking for tax and jurisdiction and whatnot. So they only erected a building in a place that was completely uninhabitable. And so, it implied that even though our people may have converted to the teachings of God, we wouldn’t accept a ruler.”
Of course, without a supervisor, it was difficult to put them under the Church’s jurisdiction. Hyland had also said that the Church tried countless times to put this region into its sphere of influence but had given up due to the endless problems.
These people lived their lives constantly balanced on the edge, and there was no way they could afford to pay tithes and other Church taxes.
Even so, they were a hardy people.
“As for the teachings of the Church themselves, well, we were taught by the priests that the merchants brought along to pray for safe passage. The monastery stood empty for a long time, but…then, the brother who’s there now, appeared. That was almost twenty years ago.”
His words were unexpected.
“This was back during those good fishing seasons, when you could stab a sword haphazardly into the water from a boat and pull out a whole skewer of fish, which was around the time the coal mining started to empty out. The old men argued and argued if they should cut down the trees to build more houses, create more families, and continue mining for coal or build more boats to go fishing or else fall into bankruptcy before long. One day, the fisherman found a battered boat on those rocks and a person sitting inside it.”
They were now close enough that they could see inside the windows of the monastery.
“Everyone was surprised. Of course they were! How reckless would you have to be to come alone in a tiny boat to these waters? Then, he spoke. He had been sold into slavery somewhere to the south, and when he touched the jet his master held, images of this land spread in his mind. He said the jet was a fragment of the Holy Mother. Then he climbed aboard a tiny boat as he was told and drifted all the way here. He said he was sent to carry the heavy burden of this land upon his shoulders.”
The captain stopped rowing the boat and began preparing rope in order to dock at the pier.
“He wore a lone set of rags. He didn’t have food but instead had a mountain of black figures of the Holy Mother. The old men believed that he was sent by the Holy Mother and left him to solve their argument.”
Their boat approached the pier, blown by the wind, and the captain tossed the rope around a stake, then pulled them in.
“Surely, what led him to this land was the fragment of the Holy Mother’s body.”
“A relic,” Col murmured subconsciously.
Relics—items that were associated with miracles, like cloth that a saint would have worn or the body of a saint itself. They were believed to work miracles, bringing prosperity and able to fight off demons or sickness. There were many people who prayed for miracles, and there were merchants who specialized in them.
Col had only ever heard about them in stories, and most were shams.
Of course, he would not say that about the Black-Mother, but the captain gave him a troubled smile.
“What Gramps and the elders had were pieces of the Holy Mother. But what I and the other young fishermen have is jet found on other islands besides Caeson. We can claim that if it came from the mines of Caeson, then it’s a piece of her body, but the mines are practically all dried up now. There’s no doubt it’s the brother’s hand carving, but it’s not a piece of the Holy Mother. But, well, it’s good enough. My kids and their kids might have to order jet from other countries. It’s the Holy Mother, so I don’t think we’ll lose profit, but…it makes me a bit sad.”
Yosef had also sighed over the decline of the mines.
However, with a strength that belied his current dour mood, the captain fastened the boat down.
The dinghy jetty, washed by the waves, stretched up onto a rocky island that hardly seemed habitable.
“Well, we’re here.”
The captain kept one foot the boat and put one foot on the boards to pull on the anchoring rope because the waves relentlessly rocked the small vessel. As Col thanked him for his consideration, they hopped onto the pier.
“Thank you very much.”
“Oh, don’t mention it. We can’t just waltz over here without good reason, either. I’m happy to have an excuse.”
He smiled and produced a small figure of the Holy Mother from beneath his belt.
“Pray here, and you’ll be in sound health for the decade to come.”
It sounded like he was joking, but it did not feel like one.
It became clear that the reason the men clamored when Col asked for passage was not for the money but for the chance to come to this important place. It may have been that everyone was so fervent in their faith that if left unchecked, the island would overflow with people.
“Well, when you’re finished, come show yourself at the pier. It’s the rule that I have to leave here now. The guys back at the island will think I’ve outsmarted them!”
The man was grinning mischievously.
“I understand.”
The captain pressed the figure of the Black-Mother to his chest once more and bowed toward the monastery, released the rope, hopped into his boat, then glided off.
The wind and the waves crashed against the rocks without pause as the cold crept in through Col’s feet, stealing his warmth.
The story of the Holy Mother who saved the island was almost exactly how he imagined it. He felt the people of the island had several practical reasons for respecting the Black-Mother as the Holy Mother.
The only remaining problem was the monk.
“…So you noticed, Brother.”
Myuri’s gaze was sharp, perhaps due to passing up a break at the church and the restaurant back in the port town.
Or she may have been angry because he should be talking to her about those who were not human.
“I told you about the village I was born in, didn’t I? But I was not confident about it back there.”
“It didn’t smell like grilled meat, either.”
Col was startled, and Myuri cackled mischievously. For a moment, he thought about lecturing her about respecting the dead, but her expression soon became serious.
“She was probably the same as Mother.”
Perhaps Myuri did not say “the same as me” because when she changed into her wolf form, she was not that big. Her mother, Holo, became large enough to swallow a man whole.
“But even Mother wouldn’t be enough.”
Certainly, not even a wisewolf would have been able to fill that cavern.
“Maybe if it was the Moon-Hunting Bear?” Myuri spoke, making no attempt to hide her excitement.
The Moon-Hunting Bear was the incarnation of destruction, a being that occasionally appeared in myths from ancient times throughout the mainland. It may have been a spirit that truly did exist once, and it was said that it was large enough to sit on the ridgelines of mountains, and it could reach out and touch the moon. Many spirits died by its claws, and it ripped the earth itself in half. The story goes that after a violent rampage, the bear disappeared into the western sea.
It would make sense that the woman’s whereabouts were unknown if, after saving the people of the island, she turned to ash.
That being said, what he wanted to know was not what happened to her.
It seemed like Myuri knew that.
“So, why did we come here in such a hurry?”
“If the Black-Mother is not human, then there are four possibilities in this region’s faith.”
Beyond the unstable jetty that seemed like it could crumble at any minute was a bare stone building, where calling it “simple” would be better than it deserved, built on a reef to keep people away.
“The islanders either know she is
not human and worship her as the Holy Mother anyway, or they truly believe it was a miracle of the Holy Mother wrought by God.”
Had he whispered, he would not have been able to hear his own voice over the sound of the waves and the wind.
“Then, there is the possibility that the monk making the figures of the Black-Mother knows about the miracle, or he doesn’t.”
As she finished listening, Myuri shrugged her shoulders and looked at him, amazed.
“You’re really picky with the weirdest things, Brother.”
Myuri had made a comment, but that was not the case.
If the islanders and the monk both truly believed in the miracle of the Holy Mother, then that was fine. There was no way to prove what happened in the past, and they had already converted to the teachings of the Church, so they could be trusted. However, it would be a different story if the islanders and the monk believed that the miracle was actually caused by someone who was not human and did not actually consider it an act of God.
If they simply wore the teachings of the Church as a cover, then Col and Myuri would need to overlook that deception should they become their allies in their fight with the Church. And judging by how the captain spoke, while the people of this region looked at the Church’s authority with suspicious eyes, they were still earnest in their faith.
And so, he needed to see the monk who was making the Holy Mother figures that served as the basis for their faith.
While lacking in other areas, when it came to matters of faith, Col had the confidence he could see through the fabrications of others. Monastic life was to fight with oneself, so any deception would be readily visible. There was no way someone with clean nails and spaces between the fingers would be devoting themselves to unforgiving moderation, no matter how tattered their clothes were.
“But, Brother, they won’t like inquisition.”
Myuri, born and raised in Nyohhira, a gathering place for travelers, spoke as though she understood.
“I must check to see that the faith in this land is righteous.”
There was a sudden strong gust of wind, and for a moment, his body had almost been blown away. Myuri closed her eyes under her hood and brushed her bangs away.
Wolf & Parchment, Volume 2 Page 12
