Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [193]
“Never liked those things,” Mitsuru muttered almost to himself, then changed his position slightly. Turning toward Wataru, he said, “You may not realize it, but we’re inside a circle here.”
“A circle?” Wataru shouted up to him.
“Yes, a magical barrier. Quite primitive, really, but I think the sula trees help make it more effective.”
“I’m not sure I get you.”
The believers followed the exchange between them, looking back and forth like a crowd of onlookers at a tennis match. Hands holding candles were lowered to the ground.
“There’s no such thing as the Triankha Hospital,” Mitsuru continued. “Oh, there used to be, long time ago. But now the only thing remaining is the ruins. They drew their barrier around this place, to use it as their fortress.”
One hand at his waist, Mitsuru snorted. “The only annoying thing is the sula wood. The raw essence of magic fills the place. It will take more than a weak-willed sorcerer—such as the one trembling in his boots over there—to break this. You understand what I’m saying?” Mitsuru said, now to the robed man. “You made this barrier, sure, but you drew in too much magic from the sula trees.”
“Nonsense,” the robed man said. Though he was hunched over, looking anything but dignified, a bit of his earlier strength had returned to his voice. “This is blasphemy most foul. You shall be punished!”
Crawling to his feet, the man began to chant a spell. On the roof, Mitsuru leaned on his staff and looked down at him, an expression of deep interest on his face.
As Wataru watched, the dried leaves of the sula trees began to swirl together into two figures—leaf-men like the ones who had attacked him before. Just looking at them made the bile rise in his throat. Wataru took a step back. The giant who had been standing by his side had long since run back to the circle of believers.
“Faithful servants! Destroy the evil blasphemer before us!” the robed man shouted, pointing at Mitsuru.
The leaf-men strode to the outer wall of the hospital, and began to climb like great apes. Mitsuru watched from the top of the roof with great interest. Then, when they were close to the top, he swung his staff and began another incantation. “Arrow of my inner will be upon you!” he shouted, and the two monsters of dried leaves stopped cold. Then they began to descend just as fast as they had gone up.
“What? What’s happening?” The robed man gaped. He staggered back, stepping on the hem of his robe and falling to the forest floor with a thud. His scream cut through the darkness as the leaf-men approached.
“I banish you!” rang out Mitsuru’s sharp voice, and the two leaf-men—their hands around the robed man’s throat—lost their form, and collapsed into piles of dried leaves.
“And that’s that,” Mitsuru said, throwing his staff over one shoulder. “Call up as many of those as you want, you’ll wear yourself out.”
The group of believers wavered and dropped their candles. Expecting the worst, Wataru braced himself. But when he saw what happened next, he could only laugh.
All at once, the believers began prostrating themselves on the ground. Some held their heads in their hands, begging that their lives be spared, while others bowed over and over again—and not to the robed man. They were bowing to Mitsuru where he stood atop the roof of the hospital.
Wataru, still smiling, looked up at Mitsuru. “I think we’re okay! Thanks.”
Mitsuru wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked almost frightened. He let his staff down from his shoulder and stood with his feet wide apart.
“You sicken me,” he said looking at the believers and spitting. “Following the strong. You’re happy as long as you’re doing what everyone else is doing, is that it?”
“Mitsuru? Come down!”
Mitsuru turned his cold