Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [154]
A horrible scream assaulted Wataru’s eardrums. It was so loud he feared he might never hear another sound again.
The cut palm flapped open, revealing pink, bloodless flesh. The wound looked almost like a mouth trying to talk—a mouth with no tongue. Wataru didn’t linger on the sight, but turned his sword toward the black arm clutching his ankle.
The surface of the water began to stir. A disturbance deep in the lake sent waves rolling toward the shore. Then the water rose into a column high enough to touch the ceiling.
The water came crashing down on his head like a waterfall, soaking him to the bone. But as a result, his arms and legs were now free. Standing quickly and jumping to the shore, he steadied his grip on his sword. A giant black form emerged from the water, silhouetted against the white light streaming from the center of the lake. It looked like a monk in long flowing robes—save that it was enormous.
It turned until it was facing directly toward Wataru. Then its eye opened, a single giant eye—the very one he had seen beneath the water—shining from the center of its head.
“What are you?” Wataru shouted. “Are those skeletons the remains of the ones you killed?”
The looming black form said nothing as its eye moved from side to side. Then Wataru spotted the two arms, right and left, flying through the air until they were next to the giant creature. Wataru half expected them to attach themselves to its body.
But that didn’t happen. First the arms waved in the air, then, together, they formed fists so tight Wataru could see the tendons bulging on the backs of their hands.
What’s going on?
Then, suddenly, the hands opened, and like a magician producing a rose out of thin air, something came pouring out of the palms—scores of needlethin objects. White needles from the white hand, black from the black.
They were coming for him. In the split-second before he turned to run, Wataru saw that those countless needles were actually hands—swarms of tiny hands. They came together like a school of piranha descending upon their prey.
Throwing up his arms to cover his head, Wataru dashed along the water’s edge, the tiny hands in hungry pursuit. The noise as they cut through the air was like the thrumming of a thousand insect wings.
Wataru ducked and lashed out with his sword at the mass of hands. If he didn’t find a way out of here soon, they would rip him to shreds. They were each only a few inches long, but their fingertips were cruelly sharp. They scratched at Wataru’s skin, poked at his eyes, and wormed their way up and under his clothing.
I can’t stop running, Wataru thought. And he ran.
A great roar rose up from behind him. The cyclops was standing at the water’s edge. Without a doubt, Wataru knew that this was the creature that was staring at him earlier.
The thing didn’t even seem to have a mouth, so Wataru had no idea where its voice was coming from. But one thing was clear: it was laughing. It’s having fun!
The monstrosity was still howling with mirth as it slid to the edge of the chamber. It pulled back the sleeves of its robe to reveal arms that looked like two giant snakes—ending not with fingers but with fins. Then the creature lifted its arms high into the air and brought them down on the surface of the lake at incredible speed.
There was a great splash, and water fell in a torrent around Wataru. He couldn’t see. His feet slipped. If I fall now…
“Hraaah!”
A yell rang through the room, and an instant later, something long and sharp cut straight through the air of the chamber and impaled itself in the beast’s left arm. The monster howled again, this time in pain.
“Wataru! You okay?”
Wataru looked up through the haze of miniature hands. Kee Keema! He was standing high on one of the rocky walls. Directly above him was Trone, a bundle of throwing spears over his shoulder, and above him was Kutz, kneeling on