Volume 3, Chapter 5: The Kesmai Plains
Part 1
When staying in Guinbar, Kuon had a room in the barracks which had been built for the Personal Guards.
After parting with Sarah, Kuon had gone to his room. Usually, the soldiers shared a room between five or six, or even – in some extreme cases – ten, but Kuon had received a private one. It was often left empty since he was constantly coming and going between the temple and Tiwana, but then, it wasn't as though it contained anything but the basic necessities. True, there was the Cross Faith's sacred book, which Camus had forced him to take, but even that had just been left tossed in a corner.
It was already night-time.
Even though he hadn't done any training today, for some reason, he was exhausted down to the marrow of his bones. He immediately put himself to bed.
But he couldn't sleep.
That was rare for Kuon. The boy who could sleep anywhere, be it in the middle of the mountains or on a battlefield, with a tree root or the sheath of his sword for a pillow, could not sleep even though he was aware of being exhausted. Getting irritated, he let out a growl of annoyance.
He knew what the reason for it was.
This is the prince's fault.
He was taciturn by nature, so it felt like he had used up his lifetime's worth of words during the nearly two hours of talking that he had done earlier. And he hadn't been talking about another person, it was his own past, which he prevented himself from remembering too much about, that the prince had coaxed out of him and had him talk about at length.
When he thought of how he had been earlier, he could almost feel himself blush from embarrassment.
At the same time, he could not stem the flow of his memories. Up until now, those memories were supposed to have been locked away beyond his reach, but because he had spent so long reminiscing, the seal had fallen off entirely, and he could no longer prevent them from surging out.
He tossed and turned again and again, and kept telling himself that he wouldn't think about them, but his memories still would not allow him to escape into sleep. Even when he closed his eyes, the images rose clearly before him. Or else it was a voice which was vividly resurrected.
“You did it! Father was always reprimanding you and hitting you, so you resented him. That's why you caught him in a trap and dragged him to his death!” Diu had screamed at him in tears.
And the tribesmen had believed those words. No matter how much they might recognise his strength, at the end of the day, Kuon was not a pureblood, and that single fact decided the matter for them, and meant that they did not believe one word of his attempted explanations.
When explaining to the prince how he had arrived at Conscon, he had simply said that he had “come down from the mountains,” but the truth was that he had consciously obfuscated the details. It was impossible that he could have left so easily, after all.
Immediately after Datta's death, Kuon had been hauled away by muscular soldiers, and had been locked up in a prison within a cliff that was used for the tribe's criminals. While he was shut away, the priestesses would hold a ceremony to ascertain his guilt.
In the same way as divination was performed at the coming-of-age ceremony, they would burn an object related to the event – the armour that Datta had worn, or a piece of one of his bones – and then, depending on things like the condition of the fire and the cracks that the heat caused in the object, the priestesses would divine Tei Tahra's will. Based on that, they would determine Kuon's guilt or innocence, and, if he was guilty, they would also determine what punishment to hand out to him.
Kuon, of course, knew that he was blameless. As long as Tei Tahra righteously guided the priestesses, his innocence should become clear at once. Yet swirling black doubts and misgivings easily enveloped that hope. And the reason for that was, again, that – I'm not a pureblood.
From the time he was born, he had never once been accepted by the mountain, so how could he overturn Diu's words? Even the priestesses might falsify their divination, while everyone gloated about how they could finally get rid of Kuon, the eyesore, and so wouldn't he end up burned at the stake?
That thought obsessed him as he lay on the damp stone floor. The ceiling was too low for him to be able to stand. Kuon was now lying down in his lodgings in Guinbar, and back then as well, he had been unable to sleep. In his mind floated the image of Gosro, his eyes open so wide that the eyeballs seemed about to fall out, and drool spilling from his mouth. His screeching laughter. His body engulfed in the flames...
“You're wrong, it wasn't me,” Kuon cried over and over.
He shouted until his throat was so raw he could no longer speak. His tears never stopped flowing either. In the end, he even felt like calling for his mother, who was long dead.
Then, when the night was at its deepest, he heard a voice outside. He wondered whether the executioner had finally come for him, and pressed his body close against the prison's stone wall, when an arm stretched out towards his shivering form.
He was dragged towards the open door. A man stood there. No, actually, it was impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman since they were wearing a mask similar to Warrior Raga.
That person cut the ropes that were binding Kuon's hand and feet, and clapped him on the back.
“Run away,” they whispered.
Kuon didn't need to be told twice. He even considered that this person might be pretending to help him, only to then jab a blade in his back. Convinced that the entire mountain was already out to kill him, Kuon recklessly galloped down the dark mountain paths.
The only thing he could rely on was the light from the stars. Again and again, he slipped and tumbled against the rocks. He suffered more wounds than he could count, but thinking about it now, it was lucky that none of those had been fatal injuries. There were watchtowers built all along the mountain pass; Kuon avoided the light from their fires which illuminated the darkness, and carried on with as much force as though someone was pushing him from behind. In the end, a day later, he had crossed to the south of the Fangs.
He remembered how he had stared in almost blank amazement at the Kesmai Plains, which unfolded out before him. But even that only lasted an instant. He was worried that the figures of pursuers might emerge from behind him at any moment, so he pushed himself forward, despite his wounds and his exhaustion, and ran towards the north. Of course, he had no clear destination in mind, it was simply that it was the direction away from the mountains.
“Huh,” the gloomy sound he made was meant to chase away those scenes from his past which had come spinning back to him one after another.
In the end, he gave up on trying to force himself to sleep, and glared at the ceiling, both eyes open wide.
He could hear the sound of his heartbeat.
He stayed like that for a long time.
It was not yet dawn when Kuon headed towards the barracks' stables. He saddled a horse and jumped on its back; since the animal was familiar with him, it didn't make a sound. With his bag behind him, Kuon rode the horse down the quiet streets, but then soon brought it to a halt.
There, in the semi-darkness, was the figure of a nun of the Cross Faith.
Sarah.
She was leading a horse and, before Kuon had the time to say anything –
“I thought as much,” Sarah looked up at Kuon with eyes like a kitten's. “Are you intending on returning to your home mountains, and asking them for help?”
“...”
“Give it up. Kuon, aren't you a 'betrayer' to the mountain? You'll only be captured and burned at the stake.”
“Don't decide that for yourself.”
Did Kuon's bitter answer come in reply to 'return to the mountains', or was it because of the words 'burned at the stake'? Either way, something had hit the mark.
“Did I go too far? Still, it's a bit unexpected, you know?”
“What is?”
“The fact that you're even willing to run the risk of being burned to death. Percy and my brother seem to be placing their hopes on His Highness Leo, but what in the world is in it for you?”
“I just want to win the war.”
“Which is why I'm asking why. There are wars everywhere. There are places where you have a far better chance of winning compared to here, and places where you can make far more money.”
Sarah piled up questions as though to test him, until opposite her, Kuon growled in annoyance.
“I decide where I fight. It's got nothing to do with you. So leave me alone.”
“I can't do that. The prince said it too, right? You're his bodyguard. You're no longer a drifting mercenary: your position comes with responsibilities.”
“And who are you to say that? Are you in a position to give me orders?”
“I...” Sarah faltered for a second, then proudly puffed out her chest. “I am the beauty in heroic tales who guides the hand of destiny.”
“Whatever.”
Kuon had his horse start walking again. Sarah levered herself by putting her foot against the stable's gate and swung herself into her own saddle. Her movements were supple and nimble.
Kuon passed under Guinbar's main eastern gate, and started along the road heading south.
“Did you bring travelling expenses?” Sarah asked from behind him.
He ignored her at first, but eventually held up the bag that was at waist because of how persistent she was being.
“Right, I see. So, we should get what we need from one of the villages ahead. This isn't going to be a five or six day trip, is it?”
Weren't you planning on stopping me? Was written all over Kuon's face, but he didn't say it out loud. If he started talking, he would just get caught up in Sarah's pace. Determined to get away from her at some point, he urged his horse forward.
Half a day after leaving Guinbar, they arrived in a village where they bought provisions and sleeping bags. Sarah had something to say about every item of shopping. “It's best to visit another shop before making a decision,” she said, or, “Please be more careful about what you choose. Your life depends on the equipment you select for travelling.” She just wouldn't shut up. Kuon wasn't able to stay silent either.
“What are you, a meddling old granny? And how long are you planning on sticking around for?”
“I decide where I go. So leave me alone.”
After riding their horses further, they stayed overnight in a different village.
Kuon had intended to stay at an inn, but Sarah objected. Savan Roux had built centres for the Cross Faith throughout his territory, and in this village as well, a storehouse which had originally been under the joint management of merchants was in the middle of being remodelled into a monastery. There were still only very few monks living and studying there, but Sarah was able to request that the two of them be put up for the night in the name of solidarity between members of the Cross Faith.
“Every little bit of money is worth saving.”
Kuon went along with it for the time being. Although there was still money to spare, it wasn’t as though it were plentiful.
The two of them continued to ride forward for several more days. Sometimes Kuon had his horse speed up, or left a village after making sure that Sarah was fast asleep, but each time, Sarah would inevitably catch up with him. Once, they fell in with a merchant caravan – in effect, a group of peddlers – of several dozen people, and a spent a night in their company in a forest. However, when Kuon stealthily got up in the middle of the night and seemed about to gallop away on horseback, young merchants who were standing guard came chasing after him, also on horses and with ugly expressions.
Thinking that something might have happened, Kuon brought his mount to a halt.
“Chase after him at once if that guy looks like he’s going to sneak away without permission,” Sarah had apparently told them. “He took my chastity and we're fleeing from the pursuers sent by my parents. But now, it looks like he's trying to run away from me. Even though he's promised that we would go where we could be happy together.”
Because of that tearful explanation, the men were all on Sarah's side, and had kept watch on Kuon with glowering eyes.
“You shameless piece of shit, taking advantage of such a beautiful young lady then trying to run away!”
“I'd rather tie you to that tree over there and let the wolves eat you, but then the young lady would be sad. Right, come on – you're going back!”
Kuon was completely baffled to find himself surrounded and threatened like that. He gave up for a while on trying to shake Sarah off.
As the road grew more rugged, signs of human life gradually became scarcer. There were no more travellers and merchants to be seen, and hardly any houses. Normally, upon leaving the centre of Atall and approaching the border areas, there would be marauders roaming, who would forcibly announce that they would “protect” wayfarers to extort money out of them, yet even those bandits were nowhere in sight here.
They arrived near the road through the mountain pass. Wedged between the highlands and the rocky mountains to its east and west, this path separated Atall from the lands that lay further south. Although the place was virtually deserted, the road appeared to be relatively well-maintained, which stemmed from the fact that before the southwestern country of Garanshar had been absorbed into Allion's domains, this route was frequently used by merchants from Atall and the surrounding countries when they went on business to Garanshar and did not want to cross Allion's border.
Because of the cliffs towering on either side of it, strong winds blew through this valley path, and because they sometimes sounded like a woman's weeping, it was called 'Pass of the Wailing Tresses'.
At times galloping fast, at others, leading their horses, Kuon and Sarah crossed the steep ridge. As the cliffs fell away behind them, there was suddenly nothing to obstruct their view and, instead, desolate fields opened before them.
The Kesmai Plains.
The gently rolling ground seemed to carry on forever. Diagonally west of the plains, the domains that had once been Garasharn continued until they adjoined the inland sea, which had now become Allion's border.
The temperature seemed impossibly high compared to the mountain pass, and Sarah's hair fluttered in the dry wind. Moisture was scarce, and there so were so few trees growing that they could easily be counted, which made this land look it was rejecting life.
“How did you cross these plains?” Sarah asked.
She stroked her horse's neck as though to soothe it, but in doing so, she was probably trying to hide her own unease.
“Nomads wander all over the plains. I followed them.”
“You sure are good at being reckless,” Sarah crossed herself with an astounded expression. “Simply being able to find them was already a desperate gamble, and then, there are plenty differences between nomads. There are even some who attack caravans and towns, you know. You should give thanks for still being alive. Be sure to offer prayers to God.”
“Sure, humans are dangerous too, but from here on, they'll be more wolves than humans. Also, watch out; there are loads of valleys that look like the mountains have collapsed inwards. In places like that, there are plenty of holes where ashinaga have their nests.”
“Ashinaga?”
“That's how we call them. But in Atall and among the nomads, I've heard they're called 'armoured spiders'. They're giant, man-eating spiders.”
“Eh...”
Her tone was curt, but Sarah's answer seemed strangely heavy at the same time. His interest piqued, Kuon continued his explanation.
“In the tribe, there were men who hunted ashinaga at the foot of the mountain on the far side from the village. Because they only appeared a few times a year, on the morning after strong winds had been blowing, only the exceptionally skilled hunters were chosen. It's an honour to hunt ashinaga.”
“Why would you even be hunting them? To eat?”
“Of course not. The priests wanted the ashinaga's poison, the hunters used the hair from their legs as arrowheads, and the warriors took their hard shells as shields. I've never seen a living one though. ─ You scared? They say that if you take ashinaga poison, you'll die in agony.”
The implicit advice was that now was the time to turn back.
“Really? That sounds exciting. This means that from here on is where a great adventure begins, right? This could the tale of how the brave and beautiful Sister Sarah, accompanied by a puppy-like attendant, found treasures and ruins hidden since long ago in this barren wasteland.”
Sarah straightened her back and urged her horse on before Kuon could do the same, leaving him to follow hurriedly after.
Travelling south across the plains, there were what looked like huts made out of solidified mud lining a narrow river. They looked like they probably formed a village. Back when merchants had frequently been going to and fro the north and Garanshar, they had probably been bustling with people, but now, there was so little life in the place that even the sun which was shining overhead seemed stagnant.
They therefore decided to stay at an inn. Well, for all that it was called an 'inn', it was more like an ordinary farmhouse. The talkative host threw open rooms in his house for the few travellers and merchants that came by in order to hear stories from the outside world. Yet when that genial old man heard that Kuon and Sarah were travelling even further south, They're crazy was written all over his face.
“There aren't any proper villages south of here. Even if you're on the run from the north, you'd do better to head west of the northern edge of Kesmai. There you'll find the remains of the highway that Garanshar maintained through the plains, back when the country still existed. It's a little far, but there should be several post-station towns along it.”
When Sarah insisted however that they needed to go south, their host pondered for a while, then told them,
“In this season, the Halia open up their bazaar. It's at the 'Moon Ring Stones'. Those guys trade with the towns, so there shouldn't be too much danger. You need to go further southwest along the river.”
The Halia were apparently one group within a clan of nomads, and a bazaar seemed to be a market which the nomadic tribes held at regular intervals.
Their host looked at Sarah, who was dressed in her novice's robes.
“The Halia are good-natured for nomads, but it would still be best if you changed your clothes. The nomadic clans have their own gods. And they're different from city-dwellers: they're mostly not very tolerant of other people's faiths,” he offered another warning.
Sarah might have been expected to resist the idea –
“These clothes have been reduced to tatters from the trip, so that's perfect. Kuon, we still have travel funds, right?” Instead, however, she immediately demanded money.
Kuon pulled a sour face, but by then, he had given up on shaking Sarah off, so it was better to have at least one less source of trouble.
The next day, she visited the various houses in the village, looking to buy cheap clothes from the daughters of farmers or shopkeepers. By the end, she was wearing second-hand linen clothes that seemed to have belonged to a farm girl, and a traveller's cloak. When he first saw her looking like that, Kuon's eyes went wide for a second, but when he noticed Sarah's knowing smile, he immediately turned his gaze away.
Part 2
It was still early in the morning when they left the village and headed south.
The strong sunlight was beating down, and neither Kuon nor Sarah felt like idle chatter. Pouring with sweat and keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings, they silently urged their horses forward. Luckily, from morning until the sun's light faded into dusk, they met neither beasts nor bandits.
They came across a deep valley at the bottom of a gentle slope in which a large crowd of people had gathered. Tents with tapered points were packed close together, filling the valley. As they got closer, the sight of the nomads in their long robes of different colours and designs, the sound of the vendors' high-pitched voices, and the smell of spices and herbs all mixed together to create a jumbled atmosphere that assaulted Kuon and Sarah's five senses.
This was surely the Halil's bazaar. The 'Moon Ring Stones' seemed to refer to a series of low-lying boulders on the east side of the valley. At certain times of the day, the shadow that the boulders cast into the valley resembled the shape of the moon, hence the name.
These nomads were generally on the small side, with dark black hair and narrow eyes. They were split up into numerous clans, and never settled long in one place: as soon as they had built a base in one part of the wilderness, they would move to another destination. Occasionally, they would hold a market, to which other clans also came. Since the market was usually held in the name of the leader of the host clan, he was responsible for guaranteeing its peace. If clans were in the middle of a feud, bringing that quarrel to the market was strictly forbidden. Men dressed in long white robes, and armed with guns and swords that curved even more than the half-moon swords often used in Atall, were patrolling the valley and its surroundings. They appeared to be in charge of maintaining security, which meant that they were part of the Halil clan, which was sponsoring this bazaar. One of them had rushed immediately to where a buyer and vendor had started yelling loudly at one another.
─ This is a digression, but one theory holds that, several hundred years ago, a group of these nomads travelled north, then went separate ways to the east and west. The group which went east found a new base of operation to the north of what is currently the Grand Duchy of Ende, and it continues to this day to threaten Ende's northern borders. The group that headed west eventually reached the lands of Tauran, and it is said that after repeatedly interbreeding with the indigenous Zerdians, they became known as the Pinepey Tribe, which is famed for its skill in shooting from horseback.
Whatever the land in which they arrived, they chose the same way of life, faithful to their love for freedom and the wind, and to their traditions of violence and bloodshed.
“It's really crowded!” Sarah exclaimed in a somewhat excited voice. Apparently, she was fond of that kind of mixed and diverse atmosphere.
Kuon patted the bag at his waist to check what remained of their travel funds. They needed to resupply in provisions and water. Their host had mentioned that from here on, the sun's rays would be merciless, so new cloaks were another necessity.
Outsiders have come – it was clear that the Halia guards were keeping a watchful eye on them. Wanting to stand out as little as possible, Kuon was going to pay whatever price the vendors asked for, but Sarah interfered each time.
Which got them dragged into a strange situation.
Just as Sarah was complaining about the price of a bag of dried fruit, a hand swept the bag away from the side. It belonged to a man dressed in long black robes. There was a noticeable scar on his forehead, and he might have been in his mid forties.
“Now look here...” Sarah was about to protest that they were still in the middle of bargaining, but the man paid the asking price for the fruit, then held the bag out to Sarah.
While Sarah stared blankly back, the man crocked his finger to call over Kuon, who was inspecting curved short swords at another stall. Kuon was offended at the gesture, which was just like that of a master summoning a menial, but what the man said next was a proposal which was so outrageous that it left the boy stunned.
“I want to buy this woman,” the man announced.
He spoke with a heavy accent. It brought back memories of Kuon back when he had first appeared at the temple, but Sarah seemed to have no problem understanding it. Instead of being angry, however, she answered with a sweet smile;
“Unfortunately, I'm not for sale. Although I am curious about what kind of price you might set.”
The man open his mouth wide in a hearty laugh, and named a sum. In that area, it would have been enough to stock up on ten day's worth of luxury provisions.
Kuon had been glaring angrily, but, so as to not stand out, he relaxed his shoulders and deliberately looked towards Sarah in amusement.
“What a strange guy. Do you really want to shorten your lifespan so badly that you're willing to pay for it?”
“Oh my, you've learned how to speak, little kuonkuon puppy.”
Although it could have ended there and have been no more than funny anecdote –
“I can add more,” the man was persistent.
There was an impression of strong will from the mouth buried beneath his black beard, from his narrow, upward slanting eyes, and from his forehead which was like the sheer cliffs in the surrounding area. Although he was slim, his shoulders were broad, and there was a red sash tied firmly around his waist. Kuon's feeling was that he was not simply some lady's man, and neither was he to be underestimated.
“Despite appearances, she's a daughter from a family of pretty good standing. She has a fiancé back home,” he said quickly, and reached out to take Sarah's hand to get her away from the man.
His hand was blocked. When he looked around, he found himself half surrounded by a group of men wearing robes of the same colour. All of them had sheathed swords conspicuously on display.
“Then how about enjoying a little adventure before going back to that Mister Fiancé? I'm telling you, I, Bahāt, know far better how to please a young lady than any of those soft city-dwelling men.”
“Knock it off,” Kuon wanted to deal with this as calmly as possible, but the man called Bahāt wasn't giving up.
Sarah didn't say anything. For some reason, she seemed to be watching happily what Kuon, who was now grasping her hand, intended to do.
“Don't think that outsiders can do things their own way here,” Bahāt's lips twisted into a smile. “If you become too much of a pain, should I feed your flesh to the ravenous wolf god of Kesmai, Roh Gas?”
“What?”
“My advice to you, boy, is to scram and leave the woman before there’s trouble.”
“Bastard,” Kuon started to reach for the sword that hung at his back. Seeing that, Bahat and his men burst out laughing; they didn't think for a second that he was a master swordsman. To them, the two looked like the son and daughter of good families who had come from the city for a small shopping adventure.
Sarah now looked worried. To go back to what was being said earlier, if outsiders wrecked the market place, they would make enemies of everyone there. She was about to say something to stop them, but it was already too late.
At that moment, a different group made up of several riders came rushing up. Just like the guards on duty, these men wore white robes, meaning that they must be from the Halil. The group of five horsemen advanced in a row, as though to force the cluster of black-robed men to part before their mounts.
“You got here fast,” Bahāt laughed. “This brat is going around trying to make trouble. Won't you take him away for me?”
“What. Bastard, you're the one...” While Kuon was flaring up, the lead rider spoke,
“I did not think that you would do us the honour of coming to our bazaar, Uncle.” Although he was young, his voice carried unusual dignity. Within the group, he was the only one wearing a pointed helmet. “Naturally, as you know, since this bazaar is being held in my name, everyone attending is my guest. Tell me, Uncle, do you have business with my guests?”
“None at all. As a guest, I was simply going to buy something which caught my eye. Exactly what you'd expect at a bazaar.”
“Yet it looked like there was about to be a commotion because you were forcibly trying to buy something which was not for sale.”
“Oh? Are you trying to say that I'm the one who was about to disturb the bazaar? And, in your position, what are you going to do to me? Expel the problem by force? This is great opportunity for you, since you can't seem to stand my company,” as Bahāt spoke, the mood changed.
The group in black put their hands to their waist or to their breast pockets. Seeing which, the party of white-robed riders also put themselves at the ready.
Kuon grimaced: from being at the centre of the disturbance, his position had suddenly changed completely and he was now entirely left out. In short, it looked like there were certain ties and circumstances among the nomads there.
Amid an atmosphere so tense that blood might start flowing at any moment, Bahāt put on a smile, and shrugged his broad shoulders.
“Well, leave it. I'm still in the middle of shopping. It wouldn't be so funny to be turned away now. Let's go enrich your bazaar a little,” saying so, he turned around.
Once he started to walk, the group of black-robed men all immediately did the same. A sand-laden wind started blowing from behind Kuon, and it was exactly as though Bahāt was guiding that wind as he strode away.
Kuon and Sarah were invited to the tent which was closest to the 'Moon Ring Stones'.
The one who had asked them there was the man in a helmet from the Halil clan. “Please allow me to treat you to a cup of tea,” he had said.
Before Kuon had time to refuse, Sarah's eyes had lit up.
“Did you say that this bazaar was being 'held in your name' earlier? Does that mean, sir, that you are the head of this clan?” She asked, her eyes still shining.
Don't say any more than necessary, Kuon glared at her, but the young man laughed readily.
“Please know that I am Hāles Halia, O beautiful one.”
While saying that, he showed the two of them into the tent. Hāles was still only about thirty. The image that city-dwellers had of the prairie tribes was that of bloodthirsty savages who attacked travellers every night, but Hāles had a clear pair of eyes, and when he smiled, there was a sophisticated air to him that was hard to disregard.
An Atallese carpet was spread out inside the tent, with a table and chairs from Allion arranged in proper order.
“None of these were plundered, they were bought at bazaars held by the other clans,” although in spite of Hāles' explanation, these were almost certainly articles that the clansmen had sold at their markets after pillaging them from the towns...
Hāles served them tea himself. Maybe it was because some unknown animal's milk had been added to it, but Sarah felt something very off about the drink that she was normally used to, and had a hard time preventing it from showing on her face. Kuon, meanwhile, downed his cup in a single gulp. He wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
“Thank you for kindly for your hospitality and for the tea,” as ever when speaking with excessive formality, Kuon's voice was too loud. “We have no intention of causing a disturbance at the bazaar. We have already found what we need, so we will be leaving immediately.”
He took Sarah's hand and was about to stand up.
“Please wait,” Hāles was still half-standing as he stopped Kuon. Young though he was, and just as there had been with Bahāt, there was something in the way he held himself which made it clear that one could not be careless around him.
“We need to hurry to where we're going.”
“It will be sunset. Bahāt will definitely attack you if you leave now. Please at least stay the night and leave when the sun is high in the sky. The bazaar ends tomorrow, so we can provide you with guards.”
“Bahāt was the man who wanted to buy me, right? Lord Hāles, didn't you call him your 'uncle'?” Sarah asked before Kuon had time to say anything.
For a second, Hāles' suntanned face wore an embarrassed expression, but he immediately after started to explain the situation to them.
Bahāt was the younger brother of the previous head of the clan. When the previous clan leader – in other words, Hāles' father – had passed away from illness, the elders had gathered and had designated Hāles as his successor. At the time, however, Bahāt had been taking part in a skirmish caused by other clans – one of the parties had offered him money and horses for his support – and so had not been able to take part in the discussion to choose the successor. He seemed distinctly unhappy about it, and, along with several dozen companions who had fought alonside him, he had distanced himself from the clan, only appearing on occasion to harass those within it.
“Uncle probably came to stir up trouble at the bazaar. He wants to drag my name down. Still, if sheds the blood of a fellow clansmen for no reason, and for all that the plains are said to be unfettered, he'll find that they will suddenly become a very small place. Those who make light of the connection between clansmen who share the same horses and who drank the same milk will unfailingly find that Roh Gas will howl their infamy far and wide, and they will become objects of hatred and scorn even to the other clans.”
“And so when I appeared, it was like a boon from the Heavens for Bahāt,” Sarah nodded.
He was going to target an outsider to start a fight. This wasn't the first, or even the second time that Bahāt had performed this kind of harassment.
The bazaar held at the 'Moon Ring Stones' was so large that even merchants from the lands of the northern civilisation – Atall included – used to form a caravan to come and trade there. Half a year ago, however, Bahāt had attacked them on their return journey. He had stolen their carts and left several dead, so from then onwards, the merchants in that caravan no longer had the slightest inclination to set foot in the Kesmai Plains again. Given what kind of man he was, it was indeed entirely possible that he might swoop down upon Kuon and Sarah as soon as they left the valley.
Hāles seemed both worried by Bahāt's actions, and considerably enraged by them. Realising that, Kuon revised his intention of leaving at once. And with it –
“That man is no longer your uncle,” even Sarah was startled by his words. “He's simply a traitor to the clan – an enemy. You should kill him. Why haven't you done so?”
Hāles glared for a second, then got his emotions under control and showed them a serious expression. He was a man who had become head of his clan at a young age: his hand and feet were no doubt bound by any number of shackles. And besides –
“Uncle is well used to the plains, and usually, we don't even know where he is. And I have to take into account that if we attack him, he might call for help from other clans. I can't decided to start a large-scale conflict simply on my own judgement.”
“You could always find a pretext to lure him out.”
“A sneak attack is out of the question. Instead of my uncle, it's my infamy that Roh Gas would spread across the wide plains,” as Hāles spoke, he once again gave a momentary glimpse of anger.
He would do what he could, but this was not Atall or Allion; the plains had their own way of doing things.
“You shouldn't be the one to do it.” Why was it that, having gotten to this point, Kuon was showing an abnormal amount of enthusiasm? “But how about if an outsider kills him?”
Not long after that, Kuon and Sarah were once more sitting astride their horses as they swiftly left the Moon Ring Stones behind them. Sunset was closing in, and the dark red sky was melting into the plain's vast ground.
In the end, the two travellers had apparently decided to ignore Hāles' advice. And it wasn't even half an hour later that clouds of dust appeared behind them and to their side.
“Ay-ay-ay-ei, ay-ei,” the group of black-robbed nomads bore down on them, raising their rough voices in a way perculiar to them.
There was a dozen or more of the men. All of them wore the cruel, predatory smiles of wolves, and as they rode forward, they had their curved and twisting swords raised high. Horses and men alike all seemed to be feverish at the promise of bloodshed.
If Hāles could have seen them, he would certainly have sighed – Didn't I tell you so?
The assailant galloping in the lead was none other than Bahāt. The gentlemanly manner that he had just barely maintained at the bazaar had been entirely flung aside, and his cruel laughter was echoing loudly.
Kuon and Sarah tried to get their horses to run faster and shake off their pursuers, but the nomads were superior in their handling of horses, and in their knowledge of the terrain. The outsiders barely managed to run away for more than a few minutes before being chased and cornered by a steep cliff.
Several more men joined the group, until there were about twenty of them spread out in a fan shape and surrounding the two who had been forced to halt their horses. The assailants also slowed their horses' steps.
“You should've listened back then, boy,” positioning himself in front of them, Bahāt was laughing enough to make his black beard quiver. “I'd have let you go if you'd given over the woman. But this isn't the bazaar where your sort can fit in anymore: here, you're in the Kesmai Plains, where wolves, and storms and giant spiders prowl. There aren't any rules or laws here. This is a land where the strong take, and the weak simply get taken from. After having that woman while you watch, I'll slice you to shreds and leave you tied up here. Will you be torn apart by the fangs of wolves while you'll still alive, or will you be pecked to pieces by birds of prey? Or will you be gobbled up by armoured spiders?”
As Bahāt laughed, his eyes almost looked blood red, like those of a man possessed. It was clear that he loved fighting, and that he took pleasure in cornering his prey then taking the time to torment it. There was no doubt from the look in his eyes that when he attacked and captured men from other tribes, merchants, travellers, or anyone else, he was used to torturing them to death like this. As for what happened to those who were left alive, they were sold as slaves to the western countries.
Bahāt's like-minded friends were also laughing as they called out in their coarse voices.
“Choose how you want to die.”
“We could let you have the woman before that. If you can actually get it up while we watch.”
While the men on horseback were all laughing at once, Kuon kicked his horse's flanks and raced it towards an opening in the fan-shaped encirclement.
“You going to just let the woman die, boy?”
The nomadic rider who was positioned at that edge spurred his own horse forward.
“Don't kill him yet.”
“Cut his arm off and knock him off the horse.”
Accompanied by the voices of his companions, the rider swung his greatly curved sword to block Kuon's path. It should have sunk into the boy's shoulder, except that it was instantly parried.
The man on horseback had his posture thrown off. At some point, Kuon had drawn the sword at his back. Or perhaps it was better to say that he had parried the blow with the very action of 'drawing his sword'. While everyone there was still having a hard time believing their eyes, Kuon struck again and slashed his opponent through the throat.
The man fell from his horse in a spray of blood.
A moment passed. Then Bahāt's eyes flew open wide.
“Don't let him get away!” He howled.
The vulgar smirks had completely vanished from the nomads' faces, replaced instead by a terrifying killing intent.
As they circled to draw the net tighter around Kuon, there was also one who moved his horse towards Sarah. Terror must have rooted her to the spot, because she wasn't moving.
“Boy, do you value this woman's head? If you do, then...”
The man had been about to press his sword against Sarah's neck, when he suddenly saw a gun muzzle appear from beneath her cloak. He didn't even have time to blink: his forehead was shot through, and he fell backwards from his horse.
Sarah aimed one after another at the men on one end of the group encircling Kuon, and pulled the trigger. She was unused to shooting from horseback, so she did not hit them, but it caused a shock to run throughout Bahāt's group.
Then another situation arose: multiple arrows were shot from behind Bahāt and his men.
Two arrows struck true, and a man riding next to Bahāt screamed in pain as he fell from his horse.
What the hell? Bahāt could not comprehend what was going on. He had not imagined for a moment that the 'outsiders' might have companions. While he was hesitating about whether or not to turn his horse around, Kuon stole up to him, unnoticed.
Another gunshot rang out.
A man who had drawing up to Kuon from behind toppled over in a spurt of blood.
Sword in hand, Bahāt stopped Kuon's blow just before it landed on his face.
“Boy, you're aiming a weapon at me? Do you know what happens in Kesmai to those who bare their fangs at Bahāt?”
“How would I know,” Kuon answered while avoiding his counterattack. “There aren't any rules or laws here, right? The strong take, and the weak get taken from.”
In spite of how he looked, Kuon's blows were sharp. For a second, then a third time, steel crashed against steel so fast that sparks flew around their faces.
“Bastard...”
Bahāt was superior in terms of raw strength, but there was no time for him to leverage that advantage by swinging his blade wide. Kuon's attacks were incessant, and in a second when Bahāt twisted away to avoid them, it was instead Kuon's sword which drew a wide arc.
“Argh!”
The blade sliced through Bahāt's carotid artery. Blood gushed up and dyed the dry earth red. He still moved jerkily as though to swing his sword, but his sturdy body soon fell at his horse's feet.
Part 3
Having lost its leader, the group fled with shouts of “Withdraw!” while still being pursued from behind by the archers.
Sunset was near when white-robed nomads appeared over the ground which had been stained dark red. They were the ones who had drawn the bows. There were only five of them, but that had been sufficient to throw Bahāt into confusion. Leading the rest of the group was the young clan head, Hāles.
“That was magnificent,” Hāles cried out, his face still flushed with excitement. “I can't believe you're this much of an expert with the sword. To be honest, I thought it was touch-and-go whether you'd survive, even if you did manage to kill Bahāt.”
Just before leaving the Moon Ring Stones, Kuon had approached them with a suggestion:
“You don't know where Bahāt is? That guy wants to attack us, so if we leave now, without any guards, he'll definitely show up in front of us.”
Hāles Halia was astounded. Kuon was saying that he was going to lure Bahāt out by defencelessly going out in the open. And right now, at that.
“Gather a few people you can trust. The enemy will be confused if arrows are shot from behind them. I'll use that opening to kill Bahāt,” Kuon volunteered.
Sarah's expression turned surprised, perhaps deliberately so.
“I see. If we bring too many people, it will simply end with Lord Hāles becoming known for having attacked a kinsman. It has to be carried out by outsiders to the very end. Kuon, what's gotten into you? Since when were you infected with His Highness' intelligence?”
“Ridiculous,” Hāles turned the suggestion down flat. “Even if we're covering you, how far do you think you'll get, drawing their attention all by yourself. With all due respect, a child like yourself...”
“He isn't a child, clan leader,” Sarah said about the boy that she was usually the first to make fun of. “He's a renowned warrior in the country of Atall. And as for me, I won't fall that easily at enemy hands. So won't you leave this to us?”
A man who looked like a child was saying that he would take down Bahāt, and a girl who seemed like a farmer's daughter was asking a warrior to “leave it to us”. The young clan head blinked in bewilderement.
“Why? Why would you do something like this? We've only just met. What benefit is there for you in risking your lives to take Bahāt's?”
“We only said we wanted to leave here at once. We're not doing this for you. You could actually that we're using your situation to get rid of a guy who's getting in the way of our journey.”
Hāles' astonishment did not abate. Still, even though he was usually a simple man, he was still a warrior nomad who gave his body over to blood frenzy whenever war broke out. In these wild plains, he had been reared on the milk of battles and hunting. He had fought both humans and packs of wolves that had come to seize the nomads' livestock.
“If you're going to go that far, I'll provide a few people. But we cannot be seen. Until we get close enough to shoot arrows, even if you get caught or if one of you gets killed, we will pretend to have nothing to do with it. Are you really alright with that?”
The two others nodded.
And thus, still half-doubting this plan – or, rather, despite being seventy or eighty percent sure that it would fail – Hāles chose four companions who were close to him in age, and with whom he had forged especially solid bonds, and together they had stealthily followed behind Kuon and Sarah, bows in hand.
The result was that Bahāt's corpse was now lying at Hāles' feet. This was a man whose conduct had been awful, and who had risked dividing the clan. Yet even though Hāles had hated him enough to want to kill him with his own hands, he had still been a kinsman. For a moment, Hāles was almost carried away by the desire to offer his uncle a proper burial, but he soon revised that thought.
To the very end, they had to stick to the story that Bahāt had been killed by the ones he had intended to attack. What happened to his corpse was something that was best left to the ravenous hunger of the wolf god, Roh Gas, who ruled as he pleased over the plains. In short, and to use Bahāt's own threatening words, it would be left to chance whether he would be “ torn apart by the fangs of wolves, pecked to pieces by birds of prey, or gobbled up by armoured spiders.”
“I would love to invite you to my tent as heroes, but...”
“The sentiment is sufficient. If the honoured clan leader was to shower hospitality to 'outsiders' right after Bahāt's death, unfortunate rumors would be sure to spring up.”
Hāles gazed at the pair in considerable wonder. When he looked carefully, he felt that the boy called Kuon had something about him that made him far closer to them, the nomads who roamed the plains as the wind dictated, than to those who lived in stone cities.
“Where will you go?”
“South,” Kuon answered laconically. Hāles thought about it for a moment.
“I see. You're from the people of the mountain lands that received Tei Tahra's protection?” No sooner had he said so than he frowned. “No, they almost never leave the mountains. And besides, you don't have a tattoo on your forehead, either.”
Kuon remained as silent as ever, and simply allowed the question to be carried away by the wind.
Although Hāles had given up on offering them a heroes' reception, he still provided Kuon and Sarah with seven riders to act as guards and guides. Since these had brought plenty of equipment and provisions for camping, the two travellers were far more comfortable and relaxed than they had been before then on their journey.
After ten days of travel, the smooth plains gave way to a terrain of jagged ups and downs. Kuon and the others continued where valleys were nestled among rocky peaks. Or perhaps it was better to say that the rocky peaks besieged the valleys. There, they said goodbye to the nomads: they were afraid that if they penetrated any further into the mountain people's sacred lands, they would be seen as invaders.
Said otherwise, this proved that they were getting closer and closer to Kuon's birthplace. As they did so, he spoke less and less.
On the first evening when they were back to travelling as just the two of them, strong winds whipped themselves into a gale. Despite how the winds slipped through the cracks in the cliffs, by evening of the next day, the pair had riden their horses as far as the mouth of a wide gorge. Continuing through it, the slope on the left side gradually became gentler. Climbing up it to reach the summit that gave into the gorge, would bring them to the foot of the mountains that were Kuon's birthplace.
Sarah gazed at the rugged landscape.
“The horses can't continue any further, can they? Anyway, the sun is already going down. Let's camp here.”
Kuon didn't move, even though he had seemed about to get down from the horse. It was as though he was now about to turn it back around.
“And, what is it?” Sarah raised her eyes. She understood that Kuon's birthplace was close. “You can't possibly be planning to tell me that from here you'll be going alone, so I should turn back? Don't even joke about it. Since I've come this far, I'm continuing forward no matter what happens.”
“...No, you can't.”
“Don't be stupid. I kept up in the mountains in Allion, even when it was the middle of the night.”
“Go back. I'm the one who was being stupid. Nothing good is going to come from going further.”
“What?” Sarah's voice rose higher. “That's right, you really are stupid. You'd have to be an absolute fool to have come all this way and turn back right before your destination.”
“...” “Don't tell me you're scared?” Sarah was being harsh to raise Kuon's spirit. “Is this the great warrior Kuon? Since you ran away from the mountains, it makes perfect sense that you'd be worried about the people from where you were born turning their bows against you, but I thought that you'd ridden here fully aware of that. It looks like I've overestimated you. It's fine, Kuon. You can wait here, or go back to Lord Hāles' camp. I'm going forward. I'll talk with the mountain people and return to Atall in triumph with reinforcements.”
Kuon didn't answer. Feeling ridiculously irritated, Sarah was on the verge of speaking even more harshly when she noticed that Kuon's entire face was dripping with sweat. He was shaking a little, too.
“Seriously, what's wrong, Kuon? Have you come down with an illness?”
Sarah advanced her horse forward and seemed about to touch Kuon's forehead, but he shook off her hand.
“It's nothing. It's just like you said. It's just... I'm just scared.” Because of how frank Kuon was being, Sarah, for her part, was left speechless.
Kuon was utterly drenched in sweat and trembling frm fear. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had undertaken to act as bait and lure out the savage nomads.
For a while, the two of them remained on horseback without saying anything, but then a strange sound filled the valley. It was like the shrill cries of wild birds, but as it drew closer, it became clear that it was overlapping with human voices. Kuon looked towards, his eyes flying wide open.
Rocks stretched out before them along the valley's path. At some points, they were piled up to an unnatural height. You only had to see them to realise that they had been placed there by human hands. The stones had been stacked up like walls to slow the escape of prey when hunters where chasing after them.
“Run, Sarah!” Kuon shouted as he grabbed the horse's reins.
“What's the matter now...”
“Ashinaga... armoured spiders are coming!”
Just as he cried out, a strange creature came rushing down the slopes. Sarah saw it too.
What made it spider-like were its six gnarled and spindly legs, which would be longer than Kuon or Sarah's full height if it stretched them out straight. Above those legs was a dusky black carapace that certainly looked solid and hard. That part of it looked less like a spider and more like a beetle.
Armoured spiders were fierce carnivores. They were simple creatures that did not act in swarms, but they were extremely aggressive by nature. Once they spotted prey – a human, for example – they would mercilessly leap towards it and seize it with the sharp, curved claws at the end of their legs, then devour it from the head down. Moreover, their fangs were known to contain poison, and simply having their skin grazed was enough to cause violent pain to their victims. That pain would soon disappear however. And that was because their nerves would rapidly become paralysed.
Kuon and Sarah turned their horses around to leave there at once.
The armoured spider must have originally fled that way as it was being chased by hunters but, perhaps because its appetite took over once it saw Kuon and Sarah, it started narrowing the distance between them, its legs squirming at a speed faster than the eye could see.
Kuon's horse steadily gained speed, but Sarah's fell behind. When she turned to glance back, the creature's torse, gleaming like black armour, was already so close that she had to look up to it. It lifted and waved one of its legs, with its claws sprouting from the bottom of it, casting a dark shadow over Sarah's face.
Turning his horse back round again, Kuon threw himself in the space between them. While the horse was neighing wildly in horror, Kuon had his legs firmly clenched around its flanks and used his sword to drive back the claws that were about to rip into Sarah. The horse and the giant beetle seemed to pass by each other.
Kuon planned to use that moment to cut another of the beast's legs, but instead, his horse's flank was torn through by one of the claws. The animal collapsed sideways, throwing Kuon to the ground.
Unfortunately, the armoured spider seemed more interested in the flesh of humans than of horses. It legs moving frenetically, it scuttled up to Kuon and leaned over him. On either side of his head were nothing but the claws attached to those legs.
Still facing upwards, Kuon swung his sword with the speed of lightning. He cleaved off the claws of the leg to his right as he rolled to the side. His movements were meant to have him crawl out from beneath the huge body, but he was a second too slow, and the talons from the left leg ripped into the armour on his back. They pinned the partly torn-off strip of armour to the ground. Kuon tried to hurriedly slice through the left leg, but because he was still half rolling to the right, he was unable to put any strength into his blow.
The armoured spider bent its huge body forward a little, its round head looming closer. Blackish and glistening with slimy fluids, it reminded Kuon of the mud balls he used to make as a child. Something heaved into sight from either side of that globular head.
Thousands upon thousands of fine orange hairs were closely packed together. No... every one of them was a razor-sharp fang. From the gaps between them, a viscous liquid oozed and seemed about to trickle down at any moment.
Poison!
Kuon forced strength into his limbs. No matter how great a warrior someone might be, if they were bitten by those posionous fangs, that would be the end. He struck his sword repeatedly against the left leg that was pinning him to the ground. But the creature overhead was entirely unperturbed by his blows.
Just as the fangs were before him, a gunshot rang out. Vibrations ran through the huge body and seemed to transmit themselves to Kuon.
The armoured spider shook violently. It's legs flayed up and down wildly and, in the process, the claw pinning Kuon down was luckily pulled away, allowing him to hastily roll away and escape.
Sarah's gun was still smoking as she came rushing up to him. Dismounting from her horse was what had allowed her shot to aim true.
The creature raged violently for a while before finally folding its legs and collapsing where it stood.
“Kuon, are you hurt anywhere?”
“I'm good,” he answered, breathing raggedly.
He had not been hurt, but losing the horses was a serious blow. Just like the armoured spider, Kuon's horse was lying on its side, breathing its last, while Sarah's horse had bolted when its mistress dismounted, fleeing in terror. Sarah shrugged.
“We can only...”
Had she been about to say that they could only go forward?
At that moment, the huge creature which was supposed to already be dead lifted itself up. It could only struggle halfway to its feet, but, faster than Kuon could push Sarah out of the way, it lunged for her ankle.
As Sarah collapsed with a thud, Kuon raised his sword high and struck at the top of the round head. Although he met with a resistance like that of hard rubber, his blow seemed to have been strong enough to be effective, and the armoured spider once more sank to the ground, belching out poisonous fluids as it did so.
“Sarah!”
This time around, it was Kuon who was worried for her, but Sarah, forcing herself to smile, had already started to get to her feet.
“I'm fine. You pushed me out of the way in time.”
“Really? Show me your injury.”
“I said I'm fine. Ah, hey, don't touch my skirt!”
The pair of them were about to start arguing when they both suddenly stopped. They could hear the hoofbeats of horses approaching.
A group of about eight riders appeared from the other side of the valley, avoiding the stone walls as they rode, and occasionally jumping their horses over them. Above their sleeveless clothes, which were dyed a bluish-green, they wore fur pelts. One among them also wore armour. They carried long-handled spears and guns, and although their physique and facial features were similar to those of the nomads of the plains, these people had slightly rounder eyes, and most of them had a red tattoo on their foreheads, painted in blood and in the shape of a dot.
“Who are you to have invaded our hunting grounds?” A man barked, his voice carrying a thick accent.
Without so much as pausing, they rode into a semi-circle surrounding Kuon and Sarah. One of them gazed at the corpse of the armoured spider, then shifted their line of sight and stared intently at Kuon.
“You're...!”
Similarly, Kuon also realised something with astonishment.
Among the men, this was the only one who did not have a tattoo on their forehead. Neither did they have a beard, and they seemed strangely slender next to the other hunters, but it was easy to understand why that was.
This was a woman. Or perhaps it would be better to say a former woman? Since 'she' had joined the hunters, 'she' must have abandoned the path of living as a woman.
“Aqua,” Kuon spoke 'her' name.
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