The Gate of Rain - IV

The Warrior

In the courthouse, a woman was seated. We know this because the woodcutter and the monk were there, and at least the monk was interested in this inquiry. It is not that a medium was not employed in the proceedings – there were enough examples, and even sorcerers and other folk as well.

Even though many of the other Gods and Goddesses did not approve of the Dark God, there was not anything they could do about it. And when life does not answer the question, then death might – and in this time and place, in the islands of Nihon, a group of people known to speak to the undead existed. It was felt that they were not just playing with forces that they controlled. Mediums were gifted: the way their posture was seated, the way they flailed at the air. These things could not be just acting. Or so it seemed too many people.

So, the Medium had set up a ritual space – which included a board upon which were placed many iron objects. She stood up and danced around it, and then kneeled to pray to its God. Each stroke she faced down to the earth and then back up again, 13 times. No more, no less. Each time she was supplicating to the Dark God, and muttering words that had no meaning to anyone else. She was not dressed in women's clothes – but neither was she dressed in man's clothes. It was the way of the Dark God adherents.

She stood up and took an iron rod and lifted it above her head, and then slammed it into the ground. Then leaving it in the ground she came back to the board. Then she caught her breath, and for several minutes said nothing – but only panted with sweat coming to her forehead. In the backdrop, a drummer was delivering a low growl from a deep bass – and was chanting. Her mouth grew round.

Then she spoke: “We are in darkness now.” It was not the medium's voice at all, it was a man's deep voice. It was deep and lower than any woman could do. “And we are suffering in this place, neither to go back to the living nor to cross over to the dead. Curse all who sent me here.” Not the “me” that other people used, but the “we” of the haughty.

Then standing up, the chains which were attached to her garb rattled. Prostrating herself to a little ball, deeply prone – she put her face down. For a few brief moments, she clung to the earth, and then sat up abruptly.

“After the bandit had attacked her, he was on his knees – entreating her to go away with him. He even said the word 'marry'. It was obvious he was very serious. This for a low common brigand was quite a commitment. Even though it was my wife, there was some pity for him – he realized that his life would change. And change dramatically.” The medium looked into the blue sky – and then looked down at the judge.

“We saw that she was so beautiful, that I thought she was going to say to kill her rather than dishonor. But what did my wife respond? We will tell you.”

 Looking up to the face of the brigand, with almost the barest hint of a smile, the lady said: “Wherever you want to go. Take me there.” The faintest sound of a brook murmuring in the background. The brigand's right hand on her cheek. There was a hush as these features moved across everyone's mind.

 The medium ranted at what the lady had said: “Can you believe what we heard? Is that not the evilest thing that you could imagine?” The nape of the Medium’s neck was glistening, as sweat poured off of it. Even her clothes reeked of it. “But that is not all.”

 “But you must do something.” Intoned the lady. “It would be too much shame if my Lord remained alive. You must kill him.” Even the murmuring of the brook had ceased.

 “That is what she said.” It was an anguished cry from the medium. “She had wanted the brigand to slaughter me on the stump. As if I were a chicken or goose. And in my heart, we were black again.” And a low croak came from inside of the Medium’s mouth.

But the brigand hesitated. He looked at the lady, then at the warrior. At first, he unsheathed his sword – but could not draw it at the man. But at that moment, the lady screamed and began running away from the glade. She was not extraordinarily quick, but quicker than the bandit. He ran to catch her but realized it was no use. At which point, he turned to the warrior and with a strutting gate came up to him. Taking out his sword, he cut the bindings on his chest. “She has run away – and I feel sure that she will send the Constable. So, I say farewell. I will admit I wanted your wife, but it seems that she does not want me.” Then he strode off in two the forest, but in a different way than the lady had gone.

 “We do not know how long. The brook had begun again. Then we reached down for my sword, the brigand's head left it there. And with a tremendous amount of will, we committed the act. But we were not dead, or at least not so. My eyes were closed, but we could still hear. In the distance, we could hear crying, and it was not my voice that was doing so. It was a forlorn kind of weeping, weeping at having someone kill himself. Then not long there afterwards, we felt the sword lifted from my body. Then there was darkness. Not the darkness of night – but the extreme blackness of the grave.”

His voice stopped. It could have been the end. And perhaps it should have been. But the woman sighed in her normal voice.

The medium then grew unspeaking.

The judge did not ask any questions, almost as if there was an understanding between the medium and himself.