Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [369]
To the sky…
When it was done, the mist covering the Swamp of Grief disappeared. A final tear dropped from Wataru’s chin.
Slowly, Wataru picked up the fallen sorcerer’s staff and rose to his feet.
The gem at the tip of the staff was glowing with a faint purple light. Soon, four distinct points of light appeared within the gemstone. They too, rose into the air, following after Mitsuru.
Only one point of light remained behind, hovering at Wataru’s eye level. Wataru drew his sword.
Darkness and light be with you, Brave.
Then the final gemstone found its place in the star pattern on the hilt of the Brave’s Sword. A powerful blast of energy ran from the hilt to the tip of the blade. Then it echoed back, traveling up Wataru’s arm, infusing him with strength.
The five gemstones were gathered together at last. The Demon’s Bane was complete.
Wataru lifted his eyes. He knew what would be there, across the lake, waiting for him before he saw it.
The Tower of Destiny stood with its doors open, revealing a long spiral staircase that rose inside, quietly beckoning.
Chapter 55
The Tower of Destiny
The spiral staircase was barely wide enough for Wataru to walk on. It ran up along the inner wall of the giant, hollow tower as far as his eye could see. The shape reminded him of a model of a DNA double-helix he had seen in a science book.
The Tower of Destiny was made of the same radiant blue crystal as the collage of towns and cities he had just walked through—even the stairway was made of the stuff. After circling the interior of the tower a few times, the translucent steps made it hard for him to judge distance. Wataru ran his right hand along the wall as he climbed so as not to mistakenly step off the edge.
Though the light coming from the crystal was cold, the material of the wall itself was warm to the touch. When he looked closer he could see his own reflection—and someone else’s. Who’s that smiling?
Mom. Wataru stopped. An image of his mother was suspended in the crystal before him. She was much younger than the last time he had seen her. Her hairstyle was different. She was wearing a pastel-colored sweater, and carrying…
A baby? Who is that?
It’s me. She’s carrying me. The nursing infant in her arms was barely able to hold its own head up. He was trying to touch his mother’s face with both hands. She would cover her eyes with a hand then pull it away. Peekaboo! The baby Wataru laughed and laughed.
A few more steps up, Wataru saw another image floating into focus in the wall. Wataru ran up the stairs. Dad. They were at the local pool on a summer day. He was teaching Wataru how to swim. He was holding on to his outstretched hands, cheering him on as he kicked his legs. His father was walking backward, leading him along. Soon Wataru would be able to cross the pool on his own. That’s it, you’ve got it!
More images from the past splashed across the walls. It was like a movie theater built for him out of his own memories. Wataru was transfixed, watching each image intently as he climbed the spiral stair.
Soon, Katchan made his debut. He was wearing the same preschool uniform as Wataru, a yellow bag slung over his shoulder. He was jumping all around, excited about something, tugging on Wataru’s shirt until his mother scolded him. I remember that. It was after the ceremony on the first day of school. We had just taken a photograph by the school gates.
Wataru’s past was playing out before his eyes.
A school trip on a rainy day. Eating lunch right before the track meet. Doing homework by the heater at Katchan’s house in the middle of winter. Bringing an abandoned kitten home, and having his mother tell him he couldn’t keep it.
More images: Wataru crying on the balcony—he had been particularly bad, and his mother had locked him out. Going to the hospital by ambulance in the middle of the night—he had caught a cold and it got worse and turned into pneumonia. Each scene presented itself clearly. His mother in the ambulance, her face white. Katchan came to visit with his