The Sanctuary of Lizard Den (3)
Lizard Den.
“That's it right there. Lizard Den, where my kin have gathered.”
Guided by Kayak's voice, Yona stood atop the ridge and, for a moment, held her breath as she gazed down at it.
Then she took in the scenery of Lizard Den, scene by scene, with the air of someone determined to commit every detail to memory.
Fences built from bundled straw, whether rice stalks or something else, no one could say. Within the boundaries marked by those fences stood houses roofed with the same straw. Spacious wooden verandas made of planked boards, and steps of flat, fitted stone leading up to them.
Every one of those sights resembled, so closely it almost hurt, the thatched-roof houses that lived in Yona's memory.
No doubt she could have picked apart the details and found differences everywhere, but even so, the sight was so welcome that Yona found herself at a loss for words.
“Well then, let's head down. Everyone's waiting for us.”
Only after Kayak urged them on did Yona and Alec follow his lead down the ridge. Even along the descent, steps had been carved into the earth and reinforced with wooden planks driven in to hold them firm. With each step down, Lizard Den grew more and more familiar to Yona's eyes.
“Kayak!”
The moment they set foot inside Lizard Den, more than ten Lizardmen came swarming over, and in the blink of an eye they had encircled Alec, Yona, and Kayak. Though not a single one of them showed any hostility or ill intent, the sheer size of the bodies closing in around her triggered Yona's instincts, and she trembled faintly.
“There's no need to be afraid, Yona. Not a soul here means you any harm.”
“O-oh, right.”
Yona answered in a small voice and looked around. Seen this up close, the Lizardmen really did differ from one another in subtle ways. Which was another way of saying that, until you looked closely, they were nearly impossible to tell apart. Kayak was unusually large even among them; the others were a size smaller than him, but still a good two heads taller than Yona, and their presence was plenty intimidating.
“You would be the priest who aided us earlier.”
One of the Lizardmen stepped forward with a single strides. Then, before Yona could manage any reply, he dropped to his knees and bowed deeply.
“We are late in greeting the savior of our lives. Forgive our discourtesy.”
No sooner had he bowed than the other Lizardmen all dropped to their knees as well, prostrating themselves before Yona. And with that, the one thrown into confusion was Yona herself—she fidgeted helplessly for a moment before turning to Kayak.
“You're the reason they all made it back alive, so let them thank you. There's no call to be embarrassed.”
Kayak wore the expression of a man stating the obvious. Alec too—and Yona as well. The two of them alone were so flustered that neither had the faintest idea what to do with the situation.
“This village may not look it, but it carries a fair bit of tradition. From the way the houses are built down to the manners we keep—it's all preserved exactly as the Hero Siwoo taught us.”
Kayak tore a leg from a well-cooked chicken and held it out to Yona. She hesitated a moment before taking it and carefully biting in—and her eyes went round.
“Wait, this taste…?”
“Seems it suits your palate. Good to hear. Alec doesn't look too fond of it, though.”
True to his word, Alec was sitting there holding a piece of chicken dripping with broth, looking utterly baffled as to how he was supposed to eat it. Awkward to tear apart with a fork, and dripping juice down your wrist if you picked it up with your hands—the dish's name was baeksuk, a whole chicken gently simmered in broth. Simmered long and slow with mountain herbs and whatever freshwater shellfish and catch the river offered, it was a little different from the taste Yona remembered, but it was unmistakably chicken baeksuk.
“This is another of the dishes handed down as tradition. Does it suit you?”
Yona had already demolished an entire chicken leg. Lifting her bowl and slurping down the broth with a hearty hrrk, she caught Kayak's eye and blinked rapidly in answer, saving him the trouble of asking again. Rice cooked with mountain greens, salt-seasoned grilled fish, blanched vegetables dressed with a handful of seasonings—for Yona it was a meal that suited her to the bone, and she ate until, for the first time in ages, her belly was stuffed full.
After the meal came water simmered with scorched-rice crust. Yona drained a second steaming bowl of that nutty, toasty nurungji broth, then sat patting her round stomach with the expression of someone suffering and deeply satisfied all at once.
“Well, now that we've all eaten our fill—shall we talk about our side of things?”
“Yeah.”
Alec, who had so clearly disliked the food that he'd barely touched his meal—even while listening, wide-eyed and delighted, to Yona excitedly compare everything to the dishes from the world she'd once lived in and forcing himself to try bite after bite—leaned forward eagerly in front of Kayak.
“So, to describe the situation first. We Lizardmen are a people who serve the Water God, and the sanctuary over there is a place we hold sacred because the Water God is said to slumber within it.”
Kayak opened a drawer in the corner of the room and drew out a long pipe. At once a small Lizardman beside him hurriedly produced a little box and pressed a few leaves into the pipe's bowl, while another young Lizardman lit them. A pale thread of smoke rose from the pipe. Each time Kayak drew in a deep breath and let it out, wispy smoke billowed up—and yet, curiously, none of that acrid smell particular to tobacco came with it.
“That sanctuary… turned black like that. We don't know why. It happened at some point—to be precise, starting the day after I returned from the North Cantasia and arrived at Lizard Den.”
Kayak's home lay in the North Cantasia. While he had been away, his family had left the North Cantasia and returned to Lizard Den—and Kayak, who could not have known this, had gone to the North Cantasia River, learned of the move, and only just come back to Lizard Den himself. And the very next day after his arrival, calamity had struck the sanctuary. Without so much as an omen, the sanctuary had turned into a black mire.
“A very familiar tale, wouldn't you say? Alec. Yona.”
Through the haze of pipe smoke, Kayak's yellow eyes glinted sharply as they passed from Alec to Yona and back again. No one could claim to read a Lizardman's gaze, but Yona and Alec alike felt the same déjà vu hanging over this story.
“…It sounds a lot like what happened in James's village.”
Only after a long pause did Yona speak. It had been just like the affair of the Sacred Tree in the village where they'd met James. If there was one difference, it was this: the Sacred Tree had had its reason, and the sanctuary had none. Set that aside, and the phenomena were identical—
“That's right. Similar—no, identical, save for one thing.”
Kayak exhaled a long plume of smoke. He flipped the pipe and tapped the ash out against the tray, then set it down, and the young Lizardmen hurried it away.
“And so, Yona.”
Those young Lizardmen were so adorable—like miniature Kayaks, wagging their stubby little tails as they scurried about busily seeing to their duties. Yona had been quietly watching them when the sudden call of her name drew her gaze to Kayak.
“I have a request for you.”
“A request?”
“Yes. A request.”
Kayak straightened from his slouched seat. His eyes, hazy and listless until now, gleamed bright and keen once more as they fixed on Yona.
“Purify that sanctuary, Yona. Alec, I would have your help as well. As you saw earlier, Yona, it is beyond what our strength alone can do.”
Kayak's expression could not have been more serious.
“The Heavenly God declares: the wicked shall have no place to dwell.”
“The Heavenly God declares: at the vanguard, there shall you stand.”
“The Heavenly God declares: go forth, and know no fear.”
“The Heavenly God declares: I shall lead you into the light.”
Each time the litany was recited, a low, resonant hum pulsed through the armor. Every time that grinding drone rose, divinity welled up within it, until at last the radiance flared intense and bright, transmuting into patterns of gold.
Rising, yet not as smoke—so was loyalty to the god.
Burning, yet not as flame—so was love for the god.
Soaring, yet without wings—so was longing for the god.
Sinking, yet without torment—so was communion with the god.
Thoom. Thoom—
Each time the rising divinity crystallized into golden patterns, the silver armor layered blessing upon blessing.
Scarlet quietly drew in a breath, eyes closed. Thorns bristled from the morningstar in her clenched fist, and the shield in her other hand grew ever more solid.
“ Dame Scarlet… the vanguard. Will you be all right?”
Scarlet did not turn at Vigrind's voice. To ignore the Saintess herself coming to speak with her would be discourtesy indeed—but mid-prayer to the Heavenly God, there was no helping it.
“There is no problem. And were there a problem, it would cease to be one.”
Divinity flared with every word that left Scarlet's lips. Forcibly quelling her fierce agitation, she at last turned to face Vigrind.
Before her stood the Saintess in her official vestments, no longer draped in the divine robe. To that Saintess—still, in form, a small and delicate girl—Scarlet offered a smile, hidden as it was behind her helm.
“I will carve the path ahead. Saintess—I beg you, take care.”
“…Yes, Dame Scarlet.”
It was a march. Scarlet would lead the way into the fog before anyone else, and by the rope bound fast at her waist she would relay signals, doubling as a guide for the allies advancing in the rear ranks.
“Then—I shall begin.”
Scarlet turned. Into the fog, thick enough to swallow the sight of anything beyond arm's reach, she took a single step. The mist, slinking close to coil around her, was driven back by the divinity that shrouded her body in layers.
“In the name of the Heavenly God, I shall grant you eternal rest—in everlasting agony.”
To the wicked: death.
A rest as tormenting as hell itself.
Murmuring the words over and over, Scarlet walked slowly into the fog.