Gloria Oliver (16 page)

He closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side, trying to dispel his building fear. The things he had seen weren’t moving. Chances were they weren’t even the remains of the dead. It was daytime. He was safe. Demons of bone wouldn’t dare to venture out to feel the sun’s caress.

Opening his eyes, he forced himself to move. The rat hissed at him again before scurrying out of reach.

He ignored it, trying only to think about his need to find the kettle before sunset. The others would come for him then, and he would be safe. He trembled at the thought of having to wait for them after dark in this dead, unknown place.

Avoiding everything but normal ground, he hurried through the entrance into the temple grounds. He stopped just inside and took a long look at the area that would comprise his search.

The courtyard was large with a small, covered well situated in the center . Beyond lay what at one time might have been well-kept gardens. Now, they were wild, overgrown and infested with weeds. Ivy and fungus covered much of the worn and broken statues standing at the garden’s edge.

A pebbled path, missing many of its stones, wound through the overgrown garden to a large wooden building. Its once-graceful, arching awnings had been chopped off at three of its four corners. Three smaller buildings sat around the larger one. One of them was an agonized ruin, the ravages of an uncontrolled fire still obvious after all this time. Though Asaka had told him he was going to a temple, he was somewhat surprised to find it really was. The fallen and broken statues of the welcoming spirits looked angry and forlorn. All signs of the temple’s name or which of the
kami
it regarded with the greatest esteem had been crossed off or destroyed.

Everywhere he looked, he could see the remains of more of the dark writing he had seen at the gate. He made a word out here or there, but most of it was still illegible. Yellowed paper strips in the shape of lightning bolts hung everywhere to ward off evil spirits. Bumps crawled up his arms as it struck him those were in better condition than they ever should have been.

He tried his best not to think about the violence that had surely occurred here in the past. He kept his guard up as he trekked across the courtyard to the small well. Not sure of who or what might still inhabit the grounds, he wanted to wash his hands and feet in the normal ritual conducted before entering a temple. He wanted to make sure he did absolutely nothing to anger the spirits that surely hung about the forsaken place.

Reaching the well, he found there was no way for him to bring up the water, the line and bucket gone.

Knowing spirits didn’t normally care for excuses, he used some of his drinking water to wash his hands.

He shook them dry, not wanting to soil them again by drying them on his sweatstained clothes.

His gaze rose to center on the large, open entry into the main building. With a small sigh, he started toward it, his sandals occasionally making crunching sounds on the pebbles still remaining on the path. He cringed at the noise as it echoed loudly in the otherwise unbroken silence.

Though the sun was high in the sky, none of its rays shone in through the entry to give him a hint of what lay inside. Hesitating at the first of the steps leading up to the main building, he forced his eyes away from its gaping darkness and made himself pay attention to the aged stairs.

Carefully treading on each step, he hissed every time one of them creaked. Eventually, he reached the top without mishap and stepped onto the temple’s wide porch. Glancing around, he noticed a number of jagged holes in its planks and dark telltale stains. Two beady eyes popped up through one of the holes and stared curiously at him. He tried to ignore the insistent prickling on the back of his neck. Disregarding his unwanted visitor, he walked cautiously to the dark entryway.

Toshi moved to the entrance and then stopped. Goose bumps sprung on his shoulders and legs, his eyes still unable to distinguish anything of what lay within. Taking a deep breath, knowing he really had no other choice, he closed his eyes, mumbled a quick prayer and stepped inside.

The temperature dropped as he crossed the threshold. He shivered, his goose bumps multiplying, the prickling on his neck rising to a fever pitch. He opened his eyes, expecting to be enveloped by darkness.

He blinked several times as his mind balked at the inconsistency he found around him.

The room was not enshrouded by darkness as he’d expected, but contained only by a few weak shadows. Bright shafts of sunlight poured into the room from holes in the walls and ceiling, as well as from the entry. As he gawked about in disbelief, the goose bumps spread throughout his body. Seeing that the outside looked as he had left it, he decided perhaps it would be best if he didn’t think about what had just happened for a while. If he did, he might not have the courage to stay until he’d found what he was looking for.

The room he was in was large and held a broad platform close to the far wall. Though he knew it would normally hold a statue of the main spirit worshipped here or a cabinet with sacred relics, it was empty. All the small statues and paintings honoring the other local kamis were missing as well.

Only a small table sitting before the platform looked untouched. The walls were scarred and so was the floor. The dark writing he had seen outside was here as well. The yellowed, lightning-shaped paper poked out of every possible nook and cranny, accentuating the writing on the walls.

He stepped closer to the wall on his right to get a better look at the writing. The rough, timeworn strokes spoke of demons and evil spirits. They proclaimed the place had been harboring the vilest of horrors. The writings told of how the grounds had been purified and the evil ones destroyed.

He shivered. Skirmishes between religious orders were not unheard-of, but the evidence around him spoke more of persecution than a theological disagreement. How could the priests here have merited such destruction? Could the things those writings said be in any way true? Was this a place of vile horrors? And, if so, why would Asaka be sent here to retrieve a kettle?

He stepped away from the wall, his heart uneasy. Could those writings have anything to do with the reason the samurai couldn’t come in here? Or was it perhaps that the spirits of the area were so angry at what had happened they would let no other spirits near?

He glanced nervously about him, knowing he was destined to remain in this place for an unknown period of time. The teakettle he’d been told to find could be hidden anywhere in the compound. His search could take days. He had absolutely no desire to remain in the domain of angry spirits for a few minutes, let alone for that long.

His gaze fell again to the small table before the platform. Impulsively, he walked toward it and placed a small part of his lunch on it as an offering. He bowed his head and clapped his hands together in supplication. Hoping the spirits were listening and willing to help, he asked that his search for the missing kettle be concluded quickly.

“May I help you?”

Toshi twirled around to see who had spoken, his hand instinctively falling to the hilt of his wooden sword. He’d half-pulled it out of his sash when his feet tangled together and he fell to the floor.

His side stung as it smacked the hard floor, but he froze as his gaze landed on the man who had spoken.

He wore the black-brown-and-white robes of a priest. A chain of white beads hung from his neck, and he held a tall walking stick with three bronze circlets looped about a ring at its top.

He scanned the firm yet lightly lined face before him. Unlike most priests he had seen in his short life, this one didn’t have a shaved head but instead had silver-white hair that flowed halfway down his broad back.

Toshi bowed as he stood back up, nervous as he came to realize the priest was standing between him and the way out. He tried to say something as the priest took a step toward him, but nothing came out.

“Are you all right, son? I hadn’t meant to startle you.” The voice was kind.

He found his vocal cords still didn’t want to cooperate, so he nodded yes.

A hint of a smirk touched the priest’s face. Feeling foolish, Toshi slipped his boken back into his sash

“Are you sure you’re all right?” the priest asked.

Toshi looked up at him. “Yes, I am. Thank you. I guess I’ve been a little jumpy today. I’m fine, really.”

“You’re not from the village, are you?”

From the way he said it, Toshi was sure the priest had no doubt as to the answer.

“No, sir, I’m not. I’m from Toyama.” He closed his mouth hard, realizing that, by telling where he came from, he’d opened himself to a number of unwanted questions.

“That’s quite a ways from here, isn’t it?” the priest said. “You must have grave business to have let it carry you to such a desolate place as this.”

Toshi forced himself to stay silent.

The priest’s deep-brown eyes pierced him where he stood. “Silence can at times be taken as an indication of admission.”

Toshi tore his eyes from that intense stare and looked away.

“You’re searching for something.”

Toshi’s gaze snapped back to him in surprise. He couldn’t help but notice the priest’s faint smile still clung to his face.

“I am, sir, but please don’t ask me about it. You shouldn’t get involved. It could be dangerous.” He shut his mouth again, realizing he’d been about to say too much once more.

The priest’s hard stare seemed to soften. “Might you be looking for a kettle?”

“You know of it?” He instantly cursed himself for a fool. He knew he’d just given himself away.

The priest’s smile broadened, but it no longer held a trace of humor. After a moment, he turned and walked away. “Yes, I know of it. Many have come searching for it over the years. None have ever found it.”

Toshi waited to see if the priest would say more, but he didn’t. He took a step back, his hand falling on the hilt of his boken as a sobering idea occurred to him.

“Are you also looking for it?”

The priest laughed. “There are a number of others that will give better tea than that kettle. I have no need of it, or its mysteries.”

“So, you know why it’s so important?” he asked.

The priest turned to face him, an odd look in his eyes. “Don’t you?”

He started to lie, but changed his mind right before he spoke. “No.”

“Then why do you seek it?”

He hesitated, knowing he couldn’t give an answer.

The priest suddenly took a menacing step toward him. “Tell me.”

He blinked, ignoring the command, startled by the fact he thought he’d seen a flash of light in the priest’s eyes. He kept his eyes on the man, trying to see if it would happen again, but it didn’t. Had he imagined it?

The priest took another step forward. Toshi took one back.

“Tell me.” The priest’s tone was more insistent.

“I’m doing it because the others can’t,” he answered. “Because they’ve been looking for it for a very long time and deserve to find it. Because…” He paused. “Because without it, I’ll never be allowed to go home.”

He didn’t know why he’d inserted the last. He felt trapped by the priest’s stare and had only meant to say enough to satisfy him and yet give nothing away. He knew he was failing miserably.

The priest released Toshi from his gaze and stepped to the small table containing Toshi’s offering. His staff made a jingling noise as he walked, though it had never made a sound before.

The prickling started up again on the back of Toshi’s neck. Something wasn’t right. He doubted this man was what he seemed.

“Finding the kettle carries a price,” the priest said.

Toshi was intrigued by the words despite his fear. “A price? What kind of price?”

The priest glared at him for a moment, not answering. “Are you willing to pay the price?”

Toshi took a step away from him. The prickling on his neck got worse.

“What kind of price?” He held even more tightly to his boken.

The priest stepped toward him.

“Will you pay it?” His voice was soft but very insistent.

Toshi glanced at the entry, and the freedom awaiting him beyond it. Then he looked back at the priest, who seemed to be promising a greater freedom if only he was willing to pay some undisclosed price. He wasn’t sure if he should believe him. The longer he hesitated, though, the more convinced he became that, for some reason, this would be his one and only chance to find that which he sought.

He fought to stand straight and took his hand off the boken.

“All right. I’ll pay your price.” He almost quivered at the cold grin growing on the priest’s face.

“So be it.” The priest closed in on him.

Toshi tore his eyes from that cold grin even as the room abruptly turned chilly. He felt a wave of dread flow through him. He’d felt that cold before.

He looked up, sure he’d been tricked, just as the priest loomed over him. He gasped as he stared into the priest’s eyes and saw two pink lights emanating from within them.

He tried to back away but found he couldn’t make his limbs respond. His eyes grew round as the man before him lost his solidity until Toshi could see through him. With a scream trying to form on his lips, he felt a burning sensation cut into him as the priest’s hand disappeared into his chest. The priest stepped forward, merging with Toshi’s body. He was swallowed by darkness.

Toshi worked. There was nothing for him but the work. So much had been left undone for so long. And there was so little time! He had to hurry, hurry. The prize would be his if he could do it all. The past would be erased and everything would be all right again. Balance would be restored. The spirits would be at peace.

He toiled, thinking of nothing but the work, the priest always with him, in him.

The sun hung over him as he swept the paths and cleaned the walls. The statues watched him, giving him strength, bidding him go faster. When the sun disappeared, he worked inside. Old tools found him, and he put them to use. The red words were washed away, driving back the stains that normal eyes couldn’t see. The floorboards were pried up and burned, new ones cut to take their place. There was only the price and the prize, the price and the prize. And he had to hurry.