ICO: Castle in the Mist (15 page)

The wind whistled in his ears. The Mark fluttered on his chest.

At one corner of the bridge parapet stood a statue. Ico walked closer and looked up at it, entranced, forgetting for a moment the girl behind him. It was a statue of a knight. He wore a breastplate, and his legs were also armored, though most of his body was covered by a long cloak that wrapped around in front. His head was covered by a helmet, shaped just like the ones the guards had worn, complete with horns. His were upturned, and the one on the right had broken off.

The statue of the knight faced toward them, away from the bridge, with his arms hidden beneath his cloak. This was not a statue of someone in battle. He seemed almost too pensive to be a proper knight. The statue was weathered and pitted from long years of exposure to the elements, and though the lines of the face had long since worn away, Ico did not think he looked particularly stern or grand as one might expect a great warrior to look.

Maybe the statue had been made to commemorate someone who served the castle? He had heard that there were many such statues in the capital erected to honor former city guards, or those who had won great battles in defense of their country. Those stony men sat astride horses, brandishing their whips or swords, giving orders to their troops, a perfect picture of the day when their loyalty and bravery had shone most brightly.

But this knight looked like he was just thinking.
Strange.

Ico stood on the low stone wall behind the statue to get a better look. The wall went up to about Ico’s waist, and it was narrow. He tried not to look down at the sea far below him on the other side. Getting his balance, he turned to face the statue.

Seen in profile, the knight did not lose his thoughtful expression. Ico noticed tiny spots on a part of his cape. Drops of blood? No, maybe they were just stains from the rain.

He guessed that the statue was incredibly old. Maybe even as old as the Castle in the Mist. He wondered when the horn on the knight’s helmet had broken. The break was smooth and clean.

Ico’s eyes went wide. From his new vantage point it was perfectly clear: the horns weren’t
on
his helmet, they were growing out of his head. Though the helmet resembled those of the temple guards, this knight’s helmet was a little wider at the nape of his neck, forming a bowl over his head. Small slots had been cut out over the ears for his horns to fit through.

He’s a Sacrifice, just like me.
But how could a Sacrifice be a knight? What did it mean?

In his distraction, Ico nearly lost his footing and fell from the parapet. The sea filled his vision. With a yelp, he waved his arms and managed to tip himself so that he fell back on the stones at the statue’s feet.

He heard the sound of a nearby gasp. It was the girl, standing next to the arched doorway. She had her hands to her mouth, looking frightened.

“Oh, hey, sorry about that! I wasn’t going to fall over the edge, really!”

Ico smiled at the girl. Slowly, her hands dropped back to her sides. Then she walked up to him and stood beside him, looking up at the statue. It was the first time he had ever seen her look directly at anything.

A strong sea wind caught her hair, sending it dancing along with her long eyelashes. She blinked a few times, but her gaze never left the statue of the knight.

“I wonder if they put him in a sarcophagus like the one they put me in,” Ico said softly. “But he looks so old—maybe a long time ago they didn’t do sacrifices, and he was just a knight who served here at the castle.”

The girl’s lips moved slightly. At first, Ico thought it was the wind, but then he realized she was whispering something. It sounded like—a name. Like something she remembered from a distant past, saying it just to see if it sounded right.

“You know who this was?”

The girl didn’t answer. Ico took the girl’s hand, half expecting and half fearing the vision he knew would come.

For a moment, Ico thought nothing had changed. Then the statue of the knight moved.

It turned its head, looking in Ico’s direction. He felt a thoughtful gaze regarding him from the two holes in the knight’s faceplate.

The pieces of the knight’s armor clanked against each other as he stepped down from the stone parapet. A gust of wind caught his cape as he stood next to Ico, making it flutter.

Ico could say nothing; he simply stood there looking up at the knight. He felt no fear or danger. Even his surprise faded after a moment, carried away by the wind.

Something rose in his chest, a feeling of intense familiarity, like an old memory from childhood.
Why would the knight look familiar? Is it because of his horns?

The knight extended an arm and the cloak dropped away, revealing a silken shirt beneath his armor. Small clumps of dirt fell from the sleeve.

Ico suddenly realized that the knight was not a statue. He had not been carved from stone. This was once a man, a man with blood flowing through his veins. Just as some evil power had turned the walled city beyond the Forbidden Mountains to stone, so it had turned this man into a statue.

The statue laid a hand on Ico’s right shoulder. His grip was firm, but gentle. Much to Ico’s surprise, it even felt warm.

There was a gentle light in the knight’s eyes as he looked into Ico’s. Although his helmet covered his entire face down to the chin, Ico was sure he smiled.
He looks just like the elder, whenever he was teaching me something. "Listen well, Ico, and you will learn.”

No, it wasn’t just that. There was something else. It felt like—it felt like his father was looking at him.
But I don’t even know my father,
Ico thought.
How could someone look like him—someone whose face I can’t even see?

Then he heard the knight speak.

My son.

The words sounded in Ico’s head. His ears heard nothing.

Forgive my mistake, child—all my children who must endure this trial.

The knight’s hand left Ico’s shoulder. His head turned, looking up at the tower from which Ico and the girl had escaped, then back at the long stone bridge across the sea, and finally out across the waves.

He spoke again in that soundless voice.

Castle in the Mist!

Resentment this strong.

Sin this deep.

Long years of atonement this cruel.

One thousand years of time did not erase my sentence.

Barren years spent imprisoned here.

Even now it tortures my body, binding me to this place.

But, my son.

The statue looked back at Ico.

I knew love here as well.

Then the knight turned calmly, sweeping his cloak behind him as he walked toward the stone bridge. With each step his steel boots made a heavy sound on the stone, and his cloak whipped in the wind behind him.

The knight crossed the bridge, walking toward the white mist.

Ico found his voice. “Wait!”

He ran, still holding the girl’s hand in his own. He ran wildly. His leather sandals scratched noisily against the ancient stones. He dashed forward with such speed that the barefoot girl nearly fell as he pulled her along.

“Wait! Please, wait! Who are you? Are you my—”

The knight disappeared into the mist.

Suddenly, Ico felt a great rumbling beneath his feet. The bridge swayed, and Ico nearly fell. He flailed his arms, losing hold of both his stick and the girl’s hand. Beneath them, the bridge cracked, crumbling away. Ico leapt through the air, only just landing on the far side of the break.

He heard a shout behind him—the girl was teetering over the widening crack in the bridge. She flailed her arms and legs, desperate to catch hold of anything that might support her, but she could not reach the edge. She fell, plummeting downward along with fragments of broken stone, her dress and shawl whipping wildly in the wind.

Ico lunged, barely catching her hand. The girl swayed, her legs tracing an arc through the air that almost reached the underside of the bridge. The momentum of his lunge nearly sent Ico skidding off the bridge himself. He tried to find purchase on the stones with the tips of his sandals and used his free hand to grab hold of the edge, finally stopping just at the point where his shoulder had cleared the edge.

The girl’s eyes were wide with terror, and the wind whipped her hair across her face.

“It’s okay, don’t panic!” Ico began pulling the girl up. “You won’t fall, I’ve got you.”

Careful, careful.
The girl’s left hand reached the edge of the break, and she grabbed on. Now her head cleared the edge. He pulled her until her shoulders were on top of the bridge again, and she was safe.

With a jump, she was standing atop the bridge. Ico led her a safe distance from the edge before he finally relaxed, taking a moment to lie down. The girl collapsed beside him on the bridge. Her thin shoulders were trembling. She had a terrified look in her eyes, and her breath was as ragged as the wind whipping around them.

“That was close.” Ico realized he was dripping with sweat. “Sorry. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have run like that.”

The girl lowered her eyes and shook her head.

“This castle is pretty old, isn’t it?” Ico went on. “There might be other parts that aren’t safe. We’d better pay more attention.”

The girl took a deep breath and sat up, looking back to the other side of the bridge.

Though the air here was thick with mist, they were close enough to the far side to see it now. More idols. Spell wards. There were two of them this time, fit snugly together, blocking their path.

The knight must have come through here, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Rising to his knees, Ico looked back across the gap in the bridge to where they had stood before. There was the knight on the wall, his back turned to them, wrapped in his cloak.

So that was just another vision.
Had he imagined the voice he heard in his head?

The girl stood and smoothed out her dress. Ico looked up at her.

“That statue over there,” he said, pointing. She turned to look back at the knight. “He used to be a human, you know. He’s not a statue, but a man who was turned to stone. I saw him—”

The girl said nothing. Instead, she lifted her hand, brushing back the hair that fell across her eyes.

“The castle cursed that knight too, just like me. It trapped him here. He’s a Sacrifice, like I am. What I can’t figure out is, why would such a great knight become a Sacrifice? I thought the castle only took kids.”

The image of the knight slowly stepping down from the stone parapet and crossing the bridge filled Ico’s mind.

Now that he thought of it, when the knight’s cloak had blown behind his back, Ico had seen a breastplate and armored skirt, but he had seen no sword—certainly no weapon befitting a knight in armor such as his.

“You said something when you were standing next to the knight, didn’t you? To me it sounded like you were saying a name. Did you know him?”

The girl stood with her back to Ico, silent.
Maybe she can’t hear me over the wind.

My son,
the knight had called him. It left a bittersweet echo in Ico’s chest that would not go away.

My children who must endure this trial.

Ico didn’t know the names or faces of his parents. The elder had explained to him that that too was part of the custom. After his mother and father left the village, there was no way to contact them, nor any reason to do so.

Was that my father?
But if his father had been a Sacrifice, how had he lived to such an old age? Had he been born with those horns, he would have been taken to the castle like Ico was and placed in a sarcophagus.
He wouldn’t have had the chance to become my father.

Even now it tortures my body, binding me to this place.

Ico stood with a sigh. He brushed the dirt from his knees, much as the girl had, then picked up the wooden stick from where it lay on the stone bridge. By some miracle, it hadn’t been lost when the bridge collapsed.

“No going back that way.”

The gap in the bridge was too wide for Ico to jump. The bridge was broken, dead. A part of the castle had perished, just like the stone sarcophagus that had held him when he first arrived.

Maybe this was a part of his Mark’s effect on the castle. Having power over his prison gave him hope—but it was also a source of danger, as he was fast learning.
We have to be much more careful from here on.

“Not that I wanted to go back.”

The girl turned to him and to his surprise, she smiled faintly.
She’s beautiful.
He thought her smile looked like a flower in full bloom, swaying gently in a forest breeze, sending its petals out to drift on the wind. He could almost smell the flower’s perfume on her breath.

Holding hands, they crossed the remainder of the ancient bridge. The two stone idols and the mysteries they held behind their expressionless faces awaited them.

[6]

LIGHTNING FLASHED THROUGH
the air once more, and the stone idols slid to either side. Ico noticed the girl blinking in the light. She looked almost frightened.
She doesn’t know why the idols move any more than I do.

“Does that hurt?”

A blank stare.

She has no idea what I’m saying.

In this room was a small wooden door and a staircase running around the inside of the room, winding up the walls. They were high enough already. Ico wanted to avoid going any higher if he could.
We have to go down whenever we can if we’re ever going to get out.

Thankfully, the door opened easily.

“You wait here. I’m going to go see if it’s safe.”

Through the door, Ico found only disappointment. He was standing on a small balcony overlooking a gaping chasm. A similar balcony protruded from the far side. It looked like a bridge had once spanned the gap here, but nothing remained of it now. He looked down and immediately felt dizzy.