Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [343]
Here, one dropped to its knees. A head crumbled, flowing down over its shoulders. A fist evaporated. One by one, the golems disintegrated without a sound or cry, mingling with the wreckage of the city. Soon there was no trace of them at all.
Nothing else moved in the city save the persistent flames. Yet these too faded. The great blazes soon lost their strength, reduced to nothing more than severed tongues of fire searching for nourishment.
Or perhaps it was merely intermission. Those who remained felt the ground tremble beneath their feet. Something was rising from deep below in fits of violent energy—there was a crashing sound of a thousand hoof-beats.
The Crystal Palace once again blazed with a light inspired by the rock it took its name from. The castle began a bizarre transformation. The four square wings collapsed. The main arch sagged. Towers leaned. Terraces warped.
It was collapsing in the most unconventional manner. The entire structure shrank to a single point—that point being the emperor’s throne. The shining milky-white rock of the castle was folding into itself, being sucked into a singularity. A thousand mouthlike windows gave off a soundless scream, then they, too, were swallowed.
In the space of only a few seconds, the entire Crystal Palace had disappeared.
In its place, a mist black as night began spreading. It swirled as though it were made of a thousand tiny black birds. In mere moments, it took over the space left by the castle.
The black mist then spread out, forming two wings, rising into the sky. The wings beat slowly, lifting what had slept within the ground higher and higher.
The Mirror of Eternal Shadow.
It hung in the sky like an inverted sun, raining darkness down on the wreckage of the city below. The surface of the mirror shimmered with the joy at its release from eternal bondage. Then, it began to spit a flood of darkness into the sky.
Far away in the National Observatory at Lourdes, Dr. Baksan sat with his spectacles perched upon his nose, poring over the pages of a thick manuscript. He stood on his specially crafted wooden boots, surrounded by the chatter of students busy at their work. A tiny feathered pen moved in his hand, annotating a passage of particular interest—
The doctor’s eyes opened wide. The color drained from his face.
“Is something wrong?” Romy asked from nearby.
Dr. Baksan’s little mouth was gaping. His eyes swam, looking out the window. “No…” he muttered. Before Romy could catch him, he toppled off his high boots and fell crashing to the floor.
The Spectacle Machine circus troupe had arrived in Gasara several days earlier and set about preparing for their first show. The city was still under the command of the Knights of Stengel. High Chief Gil had been arrested, and the branch stripped of its power. The Knights closely monitored and controlled all movement, not just in and out of the town but within the town itself. People were restless and worried. Troupe leader Bubuho aimed to mend that with the most uplifting performance he could muster, given his limited time and resources. Thus he was engaged in instructing Puck and the other acrobats in the intricacies of a new routine when one of the circus workers ran up. “Bubuho! Granny wants you to come right away!” he said breathlessly.
Bubuho frowned and made his way over to Granny’s tent. When he stuck his head in through the curtains hanging over the entrance, he found her seated, staring with narrowed eyes at a crystal ball sitting atop a velvet cushion.
“Something wrong?”
The old woman looked up. “The seal has been broken,” she said simply. The faint radiance of the ball shone in her eyes. Her voice was trembling. “The Mirror of Eternal Shadow…the demonkin come!”
Meanwhile, on the Isle of Dragon, the wyrmking stared up at the sky through the Stinging Mist. He saw in the swirling of the fog a sign that no one but he could read.
A shudder of fear and then determination coursed through his ancient body. “Dragons!” said the wyrmking, slowly rising. “The seal has been broken. The Mirror