Seirei no Moribito - Volume 2 - Chapter 4.3

CHAPTER III THE CEREMONY BEGINS 

At daybreak, a strange sound flowed out of the cave behind the castle and climbed high into the sky. The people called it the Mountain King’s Flute. It signaled that the time for the ceremony had come. 
Five hundred soldiers were already assembled in front of the cave, standing in files and bearing spears and torches. The king of Kanbal, robed in ceremonial white, passed down the center, between the rows of men. After him came his Spears and their attendants, each with their clan crest embroidered on their chests. 
The cave was a huge, gaping fissure where the thunder god, Yoram, was said to have split the towering crag with his bare hand. It was snowing thick and fast, and the sky was dim, despite the dawn. In the snow, the priests quietly performed the rites that would transfer the power of the thunder god to the king and his Spears. 
Kahm, breathing white clouds of steam, watched his uncle Yuguro’s powerful, hawklike profile. He could discern no trace of either nervousness or excitement. In this world of gray and white, with the flickering flames of the torches dimmed by the powdery snow, everything seemed dreamlike, unreal. Only the dark mouth of the cave stood out starkly against the looming shadow of the cliff. 
Yuguro felt the power of the five hundred men behind him. When they poured into the Mountain Deep, he expected that most of them would die. The royal family might curse him for squandering Kanbal’s best fighting men, but they could not stop him. He controlled the clan armies down to the last man, for he himself had mentored and trained the elite warriors who led them. Although the king’s kin resented Yuguro’s influence, even they recognized his superior might. Confidence exuded from his tall, imposing figure, and he seemed to shine like the gold ring on his spear. Dazzled by his radiance, the men would follow him into the depths of the earth. As Yuguro watched the waving hand of the priest, he spared no sympathy for the men behind him, breathing white gusts into the air and fearing death. Instead, he imagined the roar of the masses greeting his victorious return. 
When the rites were completed, Yuguro motioned the young Spears to form a circle. “Oh Spears!” he announced in a firm, ringing tone. “Mightiest warriors of Kanbal! The time has come for you to use your power to bring wealth to your poor motherland. Do not forget that when Darkness falls on the chamber, you must concentrate all your efforts on chanting the praises of the Mountain King. Make sure your thoughts are sincere. Do you understand?” 
The young men nodded, their faces tense. They knew that death awaited them should they fail. 
Yuguro looked at the pale face of his nephew Kahm — Kahm, who had feared that Yuguro would replace him with his son, Shisheem. What a fool, he thought. He was so like Jiguro, incapable of being anything but straight and honest, blind to the fact that Yuguro was making him bear a risk to which he would never expose his own son. 
He turned his eyes away and took a deep breath. “It is time!” he shouted. “Yoram, god of thunder, may your light protect us! May our spears strike like lightning!” He raised his gold spear ring, and the other Spears raised theirs to touch his. 
 
Kassa and Balsa crouched inside the hole and gazed down into the chamber, which was gradually growing brighter. The silence seemed to press painfully against Kassa’s ears and his heart beat loudly in his chest. Then came a sound like the whistles of the Herder People, echoing repeatedly, overlapping and resounding in a complex melody. 
The caves are playing the pipes, Kassa thought. He understood that the tunnels were like reeds, and the air flowed through them to produce an exquisite music — the Mountain King’s Flute. 
When it faded, the silence returned. They waited a long time in that silence. Then they heard boots ringing against the stone, and figures emerged into the chamber before their eyes. 
They’re here. 
Long, wavering shadows formed a circle. When they stopped moving, a thin, shrill voice, shaking pitifully with nervousness, proclaimed, “O, Mountain King! I, King of Kanbal, the land on which the sun shines, have come! Accom — accompanied by my Spears! We have come to demonstrate our mastery of the spear and the sincerity of our hearts.” 
As soon as his voice stopped echoing off the walls, the shadowy figures in the room began to move. With a shout, all the men spun to face their partners, and the air rang with the clash of colliding spear shafts. Balsa and Kassa leaned forward to watch the combatants from their hiding place. In the faint light, a young attendant with a boyish face confronted a Spear in his prime, their spears striking fiercely. Although the youth moved with admirable skill and speed, in the end he was no match for the seasoned warrior. 
Kahm came into view next. He threw his heart and soul into the match and defeated the first Spear, but the second knocked his weapon to the ground. Watching them, Balsa realized what an extraordinary feat it had been for Jiguro to become the Dancer at only sixteen years of age. 
Finally Yuguro stepped into their range of vision. When Balsa saw him whirl his spear and snap it into position, she caught her breath sharply. Each clan had its own moves, and watching Yuguro was like watching Jiguro. Although all the Spears were impressive spear-wielders, he was by far the best. 
Kassa felt his heart constrict in his chest as he watched each match reach its conclusion. The skin across his forehead felt numb and he was drenched in a cold sweat. 
Not yet. 
He saw Yuguro twist his final opponent’s spear up into the air and out of his grasp. 
Not yet. 
Yuguro rapped the butt end of his spear sharply on the floor. At this signal, all the other warriors laid their spears on the ground. In a clear, resonant voice to which King Radalle’s could never compare, he declared, “I, Yuguro Musa, am the greatest spearman of them all!” 
At that moment, Balsa gave Kassa a light shove on the shoulder. He felt himself sliding down through the hole. The noise of his feet hitting the floor shattered the silence. The men, whose eyes had been focused on Yuguro in the center of the circle, turned toward him in shock. 
“Kassa?” he heard Kahm whisper in surprise. 
Kassa took a deep breath, lifted high the scroll he gripped in his hand, and shouted, “I, Kassa, son of Tonno of the Musa clan, bear an urgent message for the king from Laloog, Elder of the Yonsa clan!” 
No one moved. The men stared thunderstruck, unable to comprehend what was happening. 
Kassa’s eyes searched the room until he caught sight of a young man, crowned and wearing white — the king. He started toward him. 

“Hold!” Kassa saw Yuguro swing his spear toward him and froze. “What trap is this? Are you some monster that lives in the Deep?” 
“No! Uncle Yuguro, it’s me!” Kassa yelled frantically. “Laloog the Elder, who was here at the last ceremony, entrusted me with a message to save your lives. Your Majesty! King’s Spears! Attendants! You are misled! If you go ahead with this plan, Kanbal will be destroyed. Your Majesty, please read the Elder’s message!” 
Yuguro lunged at Kassa with his spear, and Kassa took a step back in fear. But before his uncle could reach him, Yuguro was seized from behind. “What’s the meaning of this?” he shouted, twisting his head to see who held him. “Kahm, is that you? Are you mad? Release me!” 
But Kahm held him fast and did not let go. “Uncle, what are you doing? Were you going to kill Kassa?” 
“You fool! Don’t be taken in! That’s not Kassa! It’s some creature in his guise. It’s testing us!” 
“And if you’re wrong?” Kahm shouted back. “If he really does have a message from Laloog, what will you do then? The Elder knows the secrets of the Mountain Deep. Maybe he sent Kassa to warn us about something we don’t know before it’s too late.” 
The warriors muttered in confusion. Kassa turned to the king. “Your Majesty! Read this message and decide for yourself who is right — Uncle Yuguro or me.” 
Yuguro twisted around to look at the king. “Your Majesty, don’t be deceived. This is a trap to make us lose courage!” 
The king looked from Kassa to Yuguro, bewildered. Seeing the panic in his face, Kassa pleaded, “Your Majesty. If you don’t read this message, you will most certainly die here. It was written to save you. Please believe me!” 
“Your Majesty! Remember our great dream!” Yuguro roared. The king looked at him, imploring, and Yuguro gazed back steadily. “You must believe me, Yuguro, who has always shielded you from danger.” 
The king exhaled noisily, his lips trembling. It looked like he was about to nod his assent. 
“No!” Kassa screamed. “Your Majesty! If you don’t read this message, the hyohlu will kill you! And not just you — they’ll kill everyone here!” 
The king started and looked at him. Close to tears, Kassa pleaded again. “Your Majesty, please, don’t let them die. Don’t destroy Kanbal!” 
Yuguro looked around at the Spears and said, in a commanding tone, “Someone capture him! Have you forgotten our mission? Remember why you’re here!” 
Several men moved forward hesitantly. It’s no use, Kassa thought despairingly. Yuguro had a firm grasp on their hearts and minds. The king in particular seemed to depend on him like a little child. No matter how Kassa might try to convince him, in the end, he would do as Yuguro said. 
So Kassa did the only thing he could. Leaping back to the wall, he ripped off the string that bound the scroll. Shaking it open, he held it high and began to read: 
“I, Laloog, participant in the ceremony of the Mountain Deep, convey to you its secret. I pray that my words may reach you before you summon the hyohlu, Guardians of the Darkness.” 
The Spears who had started toward him stopped, hesitating. 
“The Guardians of the Darkness are not servants of the Mountain King. They are those who have left this world, your —” 
Kahm, distracted by Kassa, suddenly felt Yuguro drop from his grasp, and the next instant he was flying through the air. He barely managed to roll into a defensive ball before he slammed into the rock floor. The force knocked the breath out of him, and he lay still, dazed and winded. Yuguro lunged toward Kassa with his spear. Unable to dodge, Kassa stood mesmerized as the point plunged toward his stomach. Just before it pierced his flesh, however, it veered aside with a sharp clang and a trail of white light. Kassa fell to the ground as someone shoved him roughly aside. Yuguro’s spear flew from his hands and clattered to the cave floor. It all happened so fast that he could only stare blankly at the figure whose spear now pointed directly at his throat. 
“You!” he gasped. 
“It’s been a long time, Master Yuguro,” Balsa said. “The last time we met was three years before Jiguro died, wasn’t it?” Yuguro paled. “I hear you claim to have killed him and taken back the spear rings.” She smiled bitterly. “You lie! Jiguro died of an illness. I was by his side the whole time.” 
She looked at the king, who was cowering by the wall, his face rigid with fear. “Your Majesty, I am Balsa Yonsa, daughter of Karuna, physician to your uncle, King Naguru. Your father, King Rogsam, sent his assassins to murder my father and make it look like a robbery. I too would have been killed but for Jiguro Musa, who rescued me. He saved my life.” 
The murmuring of the crowd grew louder, but Yuguro kept his eyes on Balsa. She had only thrown him off balance for a moment. He said loudly, “You fool! Did you think that you could trick us like this?” 
Balsa frowned, wondering what he meant. He continued calmly, “First Kassa, and now Jiguro’s foster child! I know many illusions appear in the Mountain Deep to test those who enter, but listen carefully, servant of the Mountain King! I have been chosen as the Dancer. None of the King’s Spears are foolish enough to be swayed by you, no matter what you might say.” He turned to the Spears. “Isn’t that right? You, the King’s Spears, the greatest warriors in Kanbal — you’ll stand with me no matter what.” He saw the hesitation in their faces. “I would stand with you,” he said quietly. Then he turned to Balsa and spread out both hands. “So, you monster of the Deep! If you have been sent to kill me, do so, if that is truly the wish of the Mountain King.” 
Balsa stared in amazement at the man who stood before her with his arms spread wide. He is the real monster, she thought. He feels no shame at all that he betrayed Jiguro, his own brother, to become a false hero. She remembered Jiguro’s joy and relief when he had passed on the Spear Dance and the gold ring, and a wave of nausea rose from deep in her chest. This worthless man had taken all the misery they had endured and exploited it to his own advantage: Jiguro’s agony at having to slay his own friends, his grief-stricken face streaming with tears, the days of hunger and sleeping in the mud, the shudder of his spear in his hands as he plunged it into flesh — just to make enough money for them to survive. The rage that had simmered and smoldered inside her since she was a child flared into a white-hot flame. 
Softly she lowered the point of her spear to the ground and slipped it under Yuguro’s spear, flipping it toward him. She gazed at him with a cold smile on her lips. “I’m impressed. It appears I have no hope of defeating you in a war of words. If you insist that I am a dweller of the Deep, then so be it — I will play your game. But only the strongest spear-wielder is chosen for the Dance, yes?” She swung her spear once through the air and leveled it. “Come, then, and see what the spear of Jiguro can do.” 
In a thunderous voice, she shouted, “Yuguro of the Musa clan! I, Balsa of the Yonsa clan, raised by Jiguro, challenge you! Guardians of the Darkness, watch carefully, and judge who truly deserves to join the Dance.” 
As soon as the words had left her mouth, the light in the chamber dimmed. Balsa and the warriors looked up, startled. Behind them stood shadows deeper than their own.