Editing Tales of Leo Attiel:Volume3 Chapter4 (section)

===Part 3===


When Datta’s son, Diu, came of age, he officially entered the Wei, just as he himself had declared he would.

At the around the same period, Kuon received a bow for hunting, and his skill with it slowly became famous throughout the community. He had no fear of beasts. His arrows never missed the mark. He was fleet of foot when it came to giving chase…

Every time he accomplished another feat at hunting, the way that people looked at him, starting with his comrades in the Wei, began to change, and, at long last, his interactions with his surroundings also started to shift.

Perhaps he could be called lucky since, at around about that same time, intruders came to the mountains.

Upon being defeated by Allion, a certain powerful clan had braved the danger of crossing the Kesmai Plains to the southeast and of pushing into the ‘Fangs’ in search of new land. Although they had been driven back once, it seemed that had been no more than an advance party and the second time, when they were again spotted by the lookouts, they were marching in such great numbers that all the ground that should have been within sight was covered in the colour of their armour.

The mountain people needed as many fighters as possible. Accordingly, and although it was unusual, Kuon was incorporated into the unit before having his coming-of-age ceremony. He donned the leather armour that the unit had snatched away during the previous battle, hung a sturdy sword at his waist, and rushed onto the scene of actual combat.

Although it felt like his feet were going to be swept away from under him, and his mind was almost blank from fear, but all that disappeared the moment he charged at the enemy.

Every day, the seniors in the Wei put him through intensive training in how to use weapons. Having learned to hunt was also very useful when it came to fighting.

Kuon took down five enemies.

On the one hand, the tribe practiced exclusivism but, given the harsh environment that they lived in, it also applied meritocracy to an important degree. Kuon’s military achievements were so highly evaluated that they were greeted with cheers.

A year later, he took part in his second battle, which was also highly unusual and, as a result, Kuon officially joined the group of adults a year earlier than he normally would have.

“He is already on par with adults.”

“The mountain god wanted Kuon’s lifeblood a year early,” the priests all agreed.

Saying that ‘the mountain god wants his lifeblood’ was the same as talking about his death but, at the same time, it also meant that ‘the mountain god loves him’.

Kuon took part in the coming-of-age ceremony with the boys who were one year older than him. As I mentioned earlier, this took place in the period when Tei Tahra’s protection was all but lost. That year as well, three days before the ceremony, smoke was seen to rise from halfway up the mountain to ward off evil.

The next day, a man disappeared. He was an elderly fisherman who had also been a blacksmith, by the name of Gosro.
When Kuon heard about it, he was stunned.

Previously, he had never had any interaction with the men who vanished, but now that Kuon had been allowed to take part in hunting and fighting with the adults, he had gradually developed more of a relationship with his surroundings. Gosro was an acquaintance of his.

Once, when Gosro had told him, “my son prefers hunting, so I’m short a pair of hands,” Kuon had ridden in his boat and helped haul up the nets.

Gosro was nearing sixty, but his legs were still strong, and it was instead Kuon’s which were shaky on the unfamiliar boat. While Gosro repeatedly hurled rebukes at him, Kuon had desperately pulled up the nets.

When they had finally got back to shore, he slumped down in exhaustion.

“I’ll make you a sword,” said Gosro. “You’re small. You’ll need a sword that suits your build.”

The next time Kuon had gone into combat, the sword at his waist had been forged by Gosro.

It hadn’t even been three months since then.

''But why him?''

Rather than grief, what Kuon felt the most strongly was confusion. Gosro was a heavy drinker, he could be rough, and he was a merciless commander on board a ship; Kuon had even heard that he had kicked his own son from the boat when he wouldn’t listen to him. But at the same time, he loved his family, he never forgot to pray to Tei Tahra, and was generally very well-liked.

How could a man like that be possessed by evil spirits? Kuon found it hard to believe.

Be that as it may, the day of the ceremony arrived. Kuon had eagerly been counting down the days to it. At long last he, the ‘unwanted spawn’, the one ‘who’s blood is only half human’, the ‘beast’, would join the lines of those whom Tei Tahra would recognise as adults.

This should have been the most splendid day of all for him.



Although it was called a ceremony, the first part of the proceedings was unspeakably dull.

Early in the morning, he was shut away in a hut with the children who were a year older than him, and made to listen to long, tedious legends about Tei Tahra and the mountain people.

Afterwards, they went to the sea. Not only was it forbidden to go fishing on the day of the ceremony, but other people were also prohibited from going near the shores. There, they were daubed in multicoloured dyes by priestesses young and old who had purified themselves beforehand. The symbols that were drawn on them meant that they would have appearances befitting of warriors when they went before Tei Tahra. The boys pointed and laughed at what each other looked like.

It was the first time that Kuon had ever had the protective charm applied to his forehead. While the priestesses’ fingers skittering over his body felt ticklish and embarrassing, at the same time, he held an immense sense of pride.

From then until sunset, they sat around an open fire, passing around jars filled with alcohol and stuffing their cheeks with meat from beasts which had been consecrated for the occasion. More and more adults came to join them. While offering each of them their congratulations, they too drank, ate meat, and sang songs.

''What the…'' thought Kuon. Children who were not yet adults could not go to the ceremony. They were forbidden even from watching, and so were locked up at home from early morning onwards on those days. Because of that, the children’s imagination ran wild about what might be happening. Rumours flew about how “the priestesses dance naked,” or “they hold sword duels” but, now that he himself had reached the stage where he could attend, it wasn’t so different from the banquets that were held whenever the hunters brought back a large catch.

That, however, only lasted until sundown.

The adults left one after another, until only the boys taking part in the ceremony were left around the fire. The festive atmosphere changed completely, and in a silence as still as death, a new group of people appeared. These were the priestesses who officiated at the ceremony, several shamans, priests, the soldiers who were guarding them and, lastly, the strongest man in the tribe – the warrior Raga.

He wore a mask.

Raga was the name of a hero from the mountain legends. He was one of the ‘Five Honoured Ones’ who first praised Tei Tahra’s name, and in reward for the courage with which he had defended His shrines, the mountain god had granted him eternal life.

The myths told that –

“Even though life completes a full cycle every hundred years, Raga will be reborn again and again. No matter where or when, his sword skill will surpass anything within heaven and earth, and he will be entirely removed from the laws of death that he should have been bound by.”

Naturally, the ‘Raga’ before them now was not the hero from the legends. In imitation of how Raga neither aged nor died, every generation, the warrior who demonstrated that he was the very strongest would obtain the name and position of ‘Raga’. More specifically, during a festival which was held every four years, when Tei Tahra descended from the mountains, a tournament to decide a single winner was held between those of the men who asserted that “I am worthy of inheriting the name and soul of Raga.”

They fought with a single sword in hand, and because of how dangerous that fight was, it was not at all rare for them to kill each other. Yet nobody who killed another during that struggle or who fought until their own death was ever praised for it. Dropping their sword once their limbs were wounded, and recognising that they had lost was the correct attitude for a warrior to take pride in. That meant in turn that there was nothing more splendid than to win by giving a brilliant demonstration of the difference in ability without inflicting any fatal wounds.

Every time that festival was held, some twenty or thirty men met at the ceremonial grounds, sword in hand, and fought amidst that solemn, even stern, atmosphere. The last man standing was the winner, and he received blessings from the priestesses and the shamans, a ritual was held through which Raga’s soul was said to enter his body and, for the following four years, he abandoned his own name and became worthy of calling himself ‘Raga’. In imitation of the half-human, half-beast figure which God had given the warrior, he was given a beastlike mask to wear.

During those four years, ‘Raga’ held a special position within the tribe. He lived in a residence close to where the priestesses dwelt and, since the villagers brought him food every day, he was released from routine tasks such as hunting or fishing. When battles occurred, he was always given the chance to stand at the vanguard; for warriors, that was an unequalled honour.

On the other hand, since ‘Raga’ was the living symbol of warriors within the community, he did not take part in politics. He was required to remain silent during the frequent talks that the head of the tribe held with the village’s adult men. He could not give his support to anyone, nor could he ever oppose a decision made by the head.

Conversely, if there was someone else who was dissatisfied with anything the tribe head had decided, and if he reached the point where he believed that – ''Talking is useless. I need to prove I’m right through strength'' – then that person was obliged to fight a duel with Raga.

Those who fought Raga one-on-one had no alternative but to win. It was believed that the mountain god Tei Tahra granted victory to the one who was in the right. A man who was reluctant to go through with it, and who instead tried to change the situation by force – perhaps by recruiting like-minded companions and rebelling against the head – would never earn the respect of the tribe. Instead, as ‘a coward who ran away from a fight with Raga,’ he would become an object of contempt to men and women alike.

Accordingly, anyone who wanted to change any of the community’s policies had no choice but to face Raga in single combat. Yet that fight occurred under horrifyingly unfair conditions. The challenger was always placed under a harsh handicap, and it was the village head who had the right to choose what that handicap would be. For example, whereas Raga would be armed with his weapon of choice, the challenger might be forced to fight barehanded, or his dominant arm might be tied back with ropes, or there was even one ancient precedent in which a man was said to have been made to fight blindfolded.

Fighting against the strongest warrior in the community while being placed under that kind of handicap – needless to say, there was not a single person who was capable of winning. Nor had there ever been a single case of anyone overturning the head’s policy through strength.

There was no possibility of branding Raga a ‘coward’ or ‘unfair’. The decisions of the tribe head brought the entire community together, and they were made according to the advice from the priestesses, who could hear the voice of Tei Tahra. As such, there should not be any call to overturn them, and Raga ''had'' to win, in part so as to demonstrate the god’s infallibility.

So if one intended to claim instead that, “the priestesses have misheard Tei Tahra’s voice, and the head is taking a path that goes against God’s intentions,” and since Tei Tahra granted victory to the one in the right, then no matter what handicap they were placed under, they should be able to defeat Raga and prove that they were correct.

This then was Raga, who arrived in front of Kuon and the other boys.

Since the residence he lived in was near to the priestesses’ community, he was almost never seen. Even in combat, Kuon had only ever glimpsed him from afar while the warrior was commanding the troops.

While Raga watched, the soldiers guarding the priestesses came up to the boys, and each of them took the sword that was hanging from their waist and pierced the ground with them right in front of the boys.

''Don’t tell me there’s going to be duels?'' Kuon wondered if they were going to be told to prove their courage in front of Raga by fighting to the death with their fellows, but then again, he had never heard of anyone dying during the coming-of-age ceremony.

The boys exchanged doubtful glances.

“Soon, the betrayer will be executed,” Mist, the oldest of the priestess announced in a voice as raspy as if it was rubbing against a tree branch.

The priestess then explained again what everyone living in the community knew: that at this period, somebody would inevitably be possessed by evil spirits and would become a betrayer who would harm the mountain.

“When this time arrives, we give the soldiers, Raga included, the order to capture the betrayer. As you known, once someone is possessed by evil spirits, then even with Tei Tahra’s protection, we cannot expel the spirits from his body. The only way to save that person is to extinguish the spirits. The person’s life must be taken, after which, we cover their corpse in sacred ashes and purify it within the flames. You will undertake this ritual. Do not make a single mistake in any of the proceedings. Once you have purified the evil energy with your own hands, you will receive the path that will lead you to Tei Tahra after your death and, at the same time, you will be born in the true sense in these mountains.”

Kuon and the others were made to take hold of the swords. The open fire was extinguished, and only the pine torches held by the soldiers illuminated their surroundings with their red flames.

Thereupon, the ‘betrayer’ was dragged out.

That year, it was Gosro. Kuon had thought that he might perhaps have run away, but it seemed he had already been captured by Raga and the others.

At first, however, Kuon could not recognise the face which was supposed to be familiar to him. That was how much Rosgo had changed.

He was naked and tied up with ropes. Was it for some kind of magic spell that he was completely covered in white powder?

His entire body had been dyed pure white, and the only colour came from his red and bloodshot eyes. Yet they made him look even more like a demon which roamed the world of night.

His mouth remained gaping open, and drool overflowed from it as he growled like a beast. He sometimes scratched the ground with his toenails. Perhaps because he already done it so often, those nails were cracked and oozing blood. Most disgusting of all was how the ‘arrow’ that the mountain god Tei Tahra bestowed only to men was standing at the ready.

Gosro’s goggling eyes restlessly moved around and, when he noticed the boys standing in front of him, he gave a shrill shriek of laughter. Again and again, he jumped where he was, bending then straightening his back as he laughed.

The boys screamed.

Gosro was about to charge right at them. The soldiers who were holding the rope gave it a strong pull. By repeatedly striking him in his flanks and legs with the butts of their spears, they finally managed to stop his charge, but even though was now covered in blood, his shrill laughter continued to echo.

This was no longer Gosro. His sternness when he had scolded Kuon on the boat, and his kindness when he later forged a sword for him, had all vanished completely along with his power of reason.

So this was how atrocious possession by evil spirits really was? It brought you down to the level of a beast?

“Do it,” ordered Priestess Mist.

“Do it!” Raga shouted.

“Do it!” the soldiers raised their spears threateningly.

One of the boys made up his mind and pierced Gosro deeply with his sword. A howl like a beast’s rose to the heavens.
Another one did the same. Then another, until only Kuon was left.

Gosro was already dead. Yet even though he was dead, Kuon still had to jab his corpse with the sword. He was in tears as felt the sensation of tearing through Gosro’s flesh and organs. He stopped when he reached his breastbone, but an adult soldier pressed down on his shoulder from behind.

“Do it.”

He pushed the blade in further. Although he didn’t realise it himself, Kuon had apparently been screaming.

Afterwards, they all carried the corpse on their shoulders towards a different ceremonial ground where they tied it to a stake and, while the priestesses and shamans chanted the words of some kind of spell, they set fire to the kindling. As the flames flared into life, they crept up the stake and enveloped Gosro’s corpse. Kuon watched as the fire washed over the old fisherman's blood and blistered his skin.

“You did well. With this, Gosro and the mountain have been saved.”

Having finished reciting spells, Mist whispered as she stood behind them all.

“And with this, you have all of you safely reached adulthood.”

Kuon continued to breathe heavily for a long time.

The fire engulfed Gosro’s face. As his flesh burned, it gave off an unpleasant smell, yet in that moment, a strange sense of relief filled Kuon’s chest: with his eyes closed as though he were sleeping, Gosro’s face had once more looked like it always used to.

''We did it. We saved him.''

When that thought sprang up in his mind, he felt elated.