Brave Story (83 page)

“I’m going to Cistina Cathedral.”

“By yourself? What will you be able to accomplish?”

“I don’t know. But I have to find out the truth. If there are that many people down there held without investigation or trial, I can’t let that stand. I’ll expose the truth, get branches in other towns involved. Maybe there is something we all could do then.”

Elza clung to the curtain, barely able to stand. The words left her trembling lips. “Toni might already be dead. My father told me. He said I’d never see Toni’s face again…”

Wataru looked up at her. “It’s too early to give up.”

A tear ran down Elza’s face. He touched her cheek with his hand.

“If you give up, they’ll be no one left waiting for Mr. Fanlon. Don’t give up hope.”

“But…”

“And besides, I need that wyrmflute, and he’s the only one who can make it. I’ll save him, I promise.”

“But you’re just a boy. What can you do?”

Wataru drew his Brave’s Sword and made the cross in the air. Before Elza’s eyes he vanished.

When he released the barrier and reappeared, Elza’s dark eyes were opened wide, and her face was so ashen he feared she might collapse on the spot. “Wh-what was that?”

“A little magic. It will help me.”

Elza staggered, and Wataru jumped to keep her from falling. She was trembling and her shoulders were heaving with every breath, much as Wataru’s had moments before. When she stood, she held his arms. “W-wait, just a second. Don’t leave.”

Elza walked over to a small drawer next to her bed, retrieved a small wooden box, and clutched it to her breast. It was small enough to be held in one hand.

“Take this with you.”

Wataru took the box and looked it over. There was a small cloth belt attached to it. There was also a lock keeping the lid closed.

“Open it.”

Obeying her wishes, he lifted the lid and discovered a bundle of neatly arranged craftman’s tools.

“Toni’s toolbox. He used it for all of his delicate work. He carried it around with him always, but before they set fire to his house, he gave it to me. He said that even if his workshop on Bricklayer Street was destroyed, he could use these tools to work anywhere. They’re as important as my soul, he said.”

“Are you sure?”

Elza nodded. Her eyes were still moist with tears, but her gaze was firm. “I believe you. Save him, and he will make your wyrmflute. Tell him that I will be waiting for him. Please.”

“Understood,” Wataru said, fastening the toolbox around his waist. “I’ll give this to Mr. Fanlon when I see him. Soon.”

Chapter 36
The Cathedral Cages

As it happened, Wataru arrived just in time for afternoon worship at the Cistina Trabados Cathedral.
Believers sat on long pews arranged on either side of the center aisle. Standing at the altar, Father Diamon wore a heavy-looking embroidered silk shawl over his white vestments, and in his hand he held a leather-bound prayer book. He was reading in a loud, clear voice.

With his sword, Wataru formed an invisible barrier around himself. Once inside the cathedral, he stood at the far back of the room behind a row of burning candles. The long, slender tapers provided a blue smoke screen for him to hide behind. He released the barrier and took a deep breath. The air smelled of wax.

Wataru estimated there were about a hundred people praying. He had expected to find only ankha, but much to his surprise, there were several beastkin praying, as well. Their heads were lowered piously as they listened. The prayers themselves were palatable enough—Father Diamon urged his flock to give thanks to the Creator, and prayed for the swift recovery of those who had been harmed in the riots. But when Wataru thought about the real purpose of the cathedral here, he couldn’t understand why beastkin would willingly participate in any worship.

Could it be that they don’t know?

The reading of prayers ended, and Father Diamon began to give a sermon in a voice that echoed through the room. This too focused on the recent troubles in Lyris, and urged the people of the town to join hands and persevere through these hard times. It all sounded empty to Wataru. Still, the believers hung on every word, muttering their approval. All at once they stood and burst into song.

When the prayer service had finished, the congregation shuffled out of the cathedral. Father Diamon closed the front doors and lowered a bar to lock them. The hem of his vestments swept across the polished floor, making a soft rustling sound. The pastor inspected the candles around the altar, and seeing that all was in order, he disappeared through a small door in the back.

Good thing he didn’t come to inspect the candles back here.

Wataru took a step out beyond the cover of smoke, brushed the dust off his sleeves, and looked around.

Just what is going on here?

The large doors in front served as the only exit and entrance to the building. It was the door behind the altar, the one Father Diamon had disappeared through, that interested Wataru. That led to another part of the cathedral for sure.
That’s my way in.
But once he went through, his chance of running into Father Diamon or someone else grew exponentially, and he might have to maintain the barrier for quite some time. Wataru wasn’t sure if his body could take the strain.

Surely a building this size has some other exit.
Wataru considered going out again and examining the place from the outside.

Then, Wataru had the distinct impression he was being watched. He blinked.

No one was there. The cathedral was as empty as it had been a moment before. No one could be watching him.

I’m nervous. It’s just my mind playing tricks on me.

Walking as quietly as he could, Wataru cut behind the pews, heading for the large central doors. He placed a hand on the bar…

Someone is watching me.
Wataru could feel eyes following his every move.

Resting his hand on the hilt of his sword, Wataru slowly looked around. Where were they hiding, whoever they were?

Wataru’s gaze went to the colorful stained glass on the walls. He could see the images of Cistina traced over and over again. Here she was appearing before a crowd of bowing craftsmen. There she was vanquishing foul beasts with the gem-tipped scepter in her hand.

She was drawn quite beautifully, with utmost attention paid to every detail. But the artwork was inanimate. There was no life in any of the images. Surely, they couldn’t be the source of the eyes watching Wataru. Or was he wrong?

He grabbed the bar again, and this time heard a rustling sound behind him. Wataru tensed and whirled around.

What was that?

Wataru’s nerves were so taut he could hear them giving off electric sparks. But that wasn’t the noise he heard. No, this sounded like something moving…

The smell of freshly cut flowers tickled his nose. As it had been the last time he came here, a pile of flowers lay at the feet of the statue of Cistina. Wataru assumed they were arranged in that specific manner to hide the awful truth—that Cistina represented hate for beastkin.

False flowers
.

Wataru allowed himself to catch his breath. Standing near the large doors he could see from here that a few of the white flowers had fallen from the statue pedestal onto the stone floor. That was the source of the sound he’d heard. They had probably been piled too high and fallen naturally of their own accord.

There was no time to lose. Carefully, so as not to make a sound, he removed the bar and began to push on the door. Five or six more flowers fell off the pedestal, revealing one of the statue’s feet.

For a moment, Wataru shivered. It looked as if the flowers had fallen because the statue of Cistina had
moved.

It’s just a statue, silly.

He held his breath and watched. Just then, a rattling sound came from the door through which Father Diamon had disappeared. The door began to open. Wataru dove behind the nearest pew. The door opened, and someone stepped through. There was the sound of robes sliding across the floor.

Father Diamon? Uh-oh. If he comes straight down the center aisle, he’ll see me!

Wataru hurriedly made a cross with the sword again, hiding himself behind the magical veil.

The sound of robes against the floor came closer. Wataru peeked over the pew to see that it was, indeed, Father Diamon. He had taken off his elaborate shawl and wore only his white robes. In his hand, he carried his scepter with the gemstone at its tip, just like the one the statue of Cistina carried.

His face seemed fuller, somehow, then when Wataru had met him the last time. He looked preternaturally lively, as though years had been taken off him within the span of a few days. Sweat gleamed on his shiny head, reminding Wataru for a moment of the view of the cathedral from the air. The cathedral had seemed to tower over the town of Lyris, blanketing it in shadow. Had the building somehow grown stronger, and Father Diamon with it?

The pastor walked by the pew Wataru was hiding behind. He went two rows farther, then stopped in mid-stride.

“I smell magic.”

When he spoke, it was with that same gentle but powerful voice he used when reading prayers or giving a sermon. Wataru hunched down, and for a second he forget he was hidden behind the barrier. His heart thumped in his chest.

Father Diamon slowly looked around. A thin smile played on his lips.

I’m fine. The barrier is up—he can’t see me.
Wataru felt his breathing getting ragged, so he focused on slowing down, taking deep breaths.
I have to conserve strength.

“Meddling wretch,” Father Diamon said, turning his whole body around this time. “Where are you hiding, I wonder?” he muttered gleefully, his back to Wataru.

Just then he whirled around, and the scepter in his hand pointed directly at Wataru. “There!”

Before Wataru could react, the gemstone flared brilliantly, and a bolt of lightning shot from the scepter’s tip. There was no time to dodge. Wataru took a direct hit from the bolt, holding his arms up to shield himself as best he could.

Numbness, like from an electrical shock, spread from the palms of his hands down his arms. Wataru was thrown into the air.

He was too surprised to feel pain. Wataru was scrambling to get to his feet when he realized the barrier of invisibility was gone. The bolt of lightning had caused it to dissipate. And there was Father Diamon looking at him with a broad smile on his face. His eyes shone with a dark fluorescence.

“H-how…”

Father Diamon took a step toward Wataru. “Did you seriously think your juvenile cantrips would deceive my eyes? I’ve known you were here for quite some time now.”

So he knew, but he chose to wait and let me struggle.

Wataru got up on one knee, then stood, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. Father Diamon’s smile grew wider. “Who
are
you?” he asked, eyes glinting. He took a step closer. Wataru took a step back. “Juvenile though it was, not every child can work barrier magic of that caliber. When you came here before, you claimed to be a Highlander?”

“I
am
a Highlander,” Wataru said, prouding lifting his chin. “Sworn to right injustice and defend Vision from evil.”

Father Diamon gave a short, cruel laugh—like a dog barking. “Oh, very nice. You must be very proud.”

Wataru felt the pastor’s eyes looking him over, sizing him up. He began to tremble.

“That sword…” Father Diamon said, pointing at the Brave’s Sword at Wataru’s waist. His eyes narrowed. “That look in your eyes, and the scent of your magic…” Once again, the pastor’s face broke into a leering smile. “Of course! You’re a Traveler, aren’t you?”

Wataru didn’t answer. His body was tensed, ready to launch an attack at any moment.

“That’s it. You
are
a Traveler.” The pastor seemed very pleased with his discovery. “A cursed zaza-aku! A false god! Lowly servant, born from the primordial muck your false goddess stirred up in her vanity. Why have you set foot in this holy place? Do you think that your base existence can comprehend the radiance of this cathedral?”

“Where’re the people from Bricklayer Street!” Wataru snapped back.

Father Diamon lifted his long, elegant eyebrows, gray with a dusting of white. “What’s that?”

“Where’s Toni Fanlon? The dungeons under this cathedral—where are they?”

“Oh, so
that’s
why you’ve come. Let me guess: you intend to rescue them?”

“Tell me where they are!”

“Search for them, if you must, my little zaza-aku.” Father Diamon held up his scepter in both hands, lifting the gemstone until it was at eye level. “Yet I fear you’ll find it quite difficult to rescue the unclean dregs of this town…when you’re dead!”

Father Diamon pressed the gemstone to his forehead and began to chant in a loud, resonant voice. “By the immortal cry of our God, bound in antiquity, by the power of his spirit, chained for eternity. Come now, honor those who are faithful to you. Bring destruction upon our foes!”