Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [344]
The island, the sea, and even the mist shook as the dragons’ howls of rage coalesced into a single oath.
We will rise. We will defend.
Where…are we?
Wataru’s cheek was pressed to the ground. He could smell dust.
His eyes opened. The ground he was on was smooth and level. His hands lay before his eyes, covered with grime. His right fist still tightly gripped the hilt of the Brave’s Sword.
Wataru twisted his legs around and sat up on his knees. The girl in the white dress was lying beside him on the floor. She was sprawled face down, like a broken doll. One of her shoes had fallen off. The fine silk of her dress was filthy.
Mitsuru had flown out of the mirror hall in the Crystal Palace. Wataru knelt, the world spinning around him, then slumped back down to the floor. He shook his head and tried to stand again.
He could see the city walls of Solebria far in the distance. How far were we thrown? He looked around. A sparse forest surrounded them. The grass was dry, and bare ground poked through in places. Rocks lay scattered here and there, as if they too had been thrown from the city.
It’s cold. The wind on the north continent was hard and icy. Yet at least it was a natural wind.
What happened to the Crystal Palace? And Mitsuru? What happened while I was unconscious?
Kutz was nowhere to be seen. Where did she get tossed to?
The girl in the white dress moaned with pain, and her arms twitched. Wataru hobbled over and helped her rise. “Are you okay?”
The girl’s eyes opened drowsily, and after some effort, she managed to focus on Wataru’s face. “Where am I?”
“Near Solebria. We’re in a forest—I don’t see a road.”
At the last moment, Mitsuru had told them to escape. Escape from what?
“The mirror.”
Wataru looked back toward Solebria and swallowed. An inky black mist was swirling in the air over the city.
The dragons were above flying. Actually, they were fighting—they were fighting that mist. As he watched, the fog wrapped around one, sending the winged beast plummeting toward the ground.
Forgetting all else, Wataru began to run toward the city. Lifting his Brave’s Sword up, he fired a magebullet into the sky. “Jozo! Jozo! Where are you?”
After he had fired several more shots, he spotted a red speck low in the sky. Jozo. He’s coming this way—look how fast he’s flying. Directly behind him, a lump of the black mist had broken off from the rest and was giving chase.
“Jozo! Over here!” Wataru ran as fast as he could, waving his arms and shouting, but the next moment he stopped, speechless. He could now see the mist behind Jozo more clearly.
Wings. The mist has black wings. It’s not a mist—it’s a swarm! Each of the creatures in the swarm was as large as a man. They had sharp talons on their hands and feet, and emaciated bodies. Their skin was the color of night.
Demonkin!
“Wataru!” Jozo shot through the air straight toward him. He came down, flying so low he was only a few feet off the ground. “Get on! Get on! Quick!”
Wataru leaped and landed squarely on Jozo’s back. Jozo wobbled in the air with the added weight, his leg nearly brushing the ground.
“The girl! Get the girl!”
The girl in the white dress was still standing where he had left her. Wataru reached out and grabbed her.
He had succeeded in getting half of her up onto Jozo’s back when one of the demonkin following them lunged, clutching at her leg with a spiky claw. Slung over the dragon’s back, Wataru found himself suddenly face-to-face with the demonkin.
It was a skeleton of bones, black to the marrow. Two holes glared out from above a grinning face. Where there should have been lips gleamed a row of long white fangs. No flesh covered the bones on its hands. It flapped its wings and made a sound like the screeching of twisted metal. Then the thing yanked at Zophie’s leg, trying to pull her off the dragon. Turning her head to look at the demonkin for the first time, she screamed.
Wataru sat up on the dragon