Editing Tales of Leo Attiel:Volume4 Chapter1 (section)

===Part 2===


The setting for the fight was a shallow ravine near the summit of the great mountain.

The ceremonial combats to choose a new Raga were held in the same place. In other words, this was where, not so  very long ago, Diu Wei had competed for and earned the right to house Warrior Raga's soul.

Kuon was let out of the cliff-face prison a little before sunset.

Red curtains had been hung at both ends of the floor of the ravine. As one of the contestants waiting to duel, Kuon was led behind one of them. Even now, his hands and feet were bound in chains. Soldiers, who were more like lookouts than guards, had followed behind him, but after he was pushed behind the curtain, there was no longer anyone around him.

For a while, time simply passed.

Kuon dropped down to the ground on his backside. Having come this far, he naturally had no intention of running away. He felt the presence of people gathered on the other side of the curtain. The light of the sun gradually grew weaker, and was replaced with deep shadows in the area cut off by the draperies.

At that point, Aqua came in, accompanying an elderly priestess clad entirely in scarlet robes.

As soon as the greetings were over, the priestess started drawing a pattern over Kuon's skin with red dye. It was meant to call the Spirits of battle into his body, and normally, it was a pattern that only the head of a unit was allowed to receive when going to war. Two exceptions were made, however, and the braves who dared contend to become Raga, as well as the warriors who challenged Raga, were also allowed to wear it.

A few minutes later, Kuon's skin was covered in a pattern of red stripes. The priestess placed a finger at the centre of the large circle that was drawn on his chest, and said, “All will be according to Lord Tei Tahra's guidance,” before disappearing back to the other side of the curtain.

After the priestess had left, Aqua, who had been watching motionlessly from start to end, silently crouched down next to Kuon, and took a key to unlock the chains at his hand and feet. Kuon swung his legs, which suddenly felt light again.
“Why did you come back?” Aqua asked him in a whisper.

Kuon answered while gazing at the dirt-stained tip of his toes,

“It was Lord Tei Tahra's guidance.”

“Liar. You don't have the mountain god's guidance,” 'she' retorted flatly. 'Her' callousness reminded him of Sarah. Speaking of which, the two of them were the same age.

“Diu Wei was strong,” Aqua continued, as though speaking to 'herself'.

“I know.”

“No, you don't know. After you left, Diu became stronger. It was almost frightening how he continued practising day and night, as though  he was possessed by the Spirits of battle and he didn't know how to release them. Even though everyone thought that after Datta's death, Diu would succed him as the next 'Wei', he even left that to Aro, his senior brother in the unit, and continued improving his skills all by himself. The ceremonial battle to decide Raga was amazing. Whether it was the warriors with more experience than Diu, or those with a better physique than him, nobody could even touch him.”

Kuon didn't answer. He remembered how Sarah had asked him the previous evening, “Is Raga stronger than you, Kuon?” At the time, he had truly felt astounded.

Of course Raga was strong. It was a simple fact, something that even babies knew, as obvious for those born in the great mountains as saying that things dropped from a height would fall. Yet when Sarah asked him that question point-blank, Kuon realised that he had completely forgotten that well-known truth.

It wasn't because he had been looking down on Raga. As soon as he had faced the masked warrior at the prison, he had sensed that the current Raga was Diu. And Diu was a man who had always been one step ahead of Kuon, not only in age, but also in terms of skill with sword or bow. If they were to fight one-to-one, it would be difficult for Kuon to win without a large amount of luck on his side.

The rules of duel were clear: victory would only be decided when one of them either died, or accepted defeat. But the people from their community believed that Kuon was steeped in sin – that his flesh housed evil spirits. Even if Kuon were to admit defeat, Raga held the duty of expelling evil spirits, so it was unthinkable that he would stay his sword.

In other words, it meant that Kuon had a very high chance of dying in this fight.

Yet when he had declared that he would face off against Raga, he had felt neither fear nor anxiety. Still, when he had  explained to Sarah that ''Diu became Raga when I wasn't around, so he isn't the strongest. The strongest is me'', those were not his true feelings.

Nor was he labouring under the naïve assumption that ''I didn't kill Datta. I'm innocent. Lord Tei Tahra grants victory to the righteous, so there's no way I can lose.''

Aqua, who was strapping shoulder pads and a belt on the still-seated Kuon, also seemed to find it strange.

“Aren't you scared?”

'She' then changed 'her' question, and spoke in a voice just as quiet as before,

“You deliberately came back knowing that you would be killed, and now, you're definitely going to die. I'm also a 'man'. I'm not afraid of losing my life in battle. When I die, my body and bones will be burned, but my soul will ride on the back of Valgo the wind-wolf, he who serves Lord Tei Tahra, and will turn into a spirit. It's something to be proud of. But you, from the moment you left the mountain – from the moment you even thought of leaving the mountain – you lost Lord Tei Tahra's protection. The corpse that housed evil spirits is burned in the sacred fire, but although the soul is saved, it can no longer follow the path to becoming a spirit. That means it loses the path to achieve eternity. Do you understand? That's basically the same as never having been born. I would hate it. Everything that you'd done up until then, the fact that you'd fought for the mountain, your family – it would be as if all those things never existed. I couldn't bear it!”

Blood rose to Aqua's face during 'her' long and vehement speech, and, even though it was only a little, it showed traces of how 'she' had looked in 'her' girlhood, back on that day when they were young and she rebuked Kuon without rhyme or reason.

''It is scary'', Kuon mentally agreed. But there was something that he found even scarier.

There was a loud booming noise, and the curtain that surrounded them shook. It was the sound of a drum, and it meant that battle was approaching. A second slower after the drum, there was a loud roar as the men of the tribe cheered enthusiastically.

Aqua stood, as though 'she' had suddenly come back to 'her' senses.

“Stand, Kuon. I need to make the last of the 'preparations'.”

Kuon moved to obey the order, but then suddenly stopped.

“What is it?”

“My legs have gone to sleep. Lend me a hand.”

“How pathetic, and you're saying you're going to fight Raga?” Aqua shook 'her' head as though 'she' found him utterly deplorable. 'She' stretched out 'her' hand, caught Kuon's wrist, and helped him up.

While Aqua completed the 'preparation', Kuon stared fixedly at the wrist that 'she' had seized only just a few moments ago.



A large crowd of men were gathered at the top of the slightly elevated cliffs that formed the shallow ravine.

Of those there that night, the most conspicuous were the heads of units, adorned in their battle markings. The warriors who represented the mountains were closely monitoring the fight, and this served to guarantee that justice would be served by the outcome of the fight, whatever that outcome might be.

If, after this, someone were to appear who opposed the policy that was decided this night, who expressed dissatisfaction and deliberately refused to obey, that person would probably be expelled from the unit on the authority of its leader. And there were those among them who, out of shame that such a person could have come from their household, would resign from the position of leader of their own accord. The warriors' patterns that were painted on them testified to that level of resolve.

Aside from them, an unbroken line of men could be seen from between the unit leaders. Apart from the priestesses, only men who had reached adulthood were allowed to witness the fight.

An exception had been made for the 'outsider', Sarah, and she could be seen in the area where the priestesses had taken up their positions, just next to Mist, the very oldest of them.

Most of the men were holding pine torches aloft. Their light shone down on the ravine as the figures of the contestants appeared from either side of it. One was a warrior in a beast mask, the fangs of which framed both sides of his head.

“Raga.”

“Raga.”

“Raga!”

Every time he took a step forward, the loud cheers of the tribe's men thundered and reverberated through the ravine. The men wore enraptured, entranced expressions, and their voices had a worshipping ring to them.

Naturally, all of them knew that the face beneath the mask belonged to Diu Wei. And among the warriors, Diu was still young. For all that he had earned the position of Raga through genuine ability, it would hardly be surprising if, among the vastly more experienced warriors, there were some who still doubted  Diu's actual skill, or who took him lightly.

Yet not a shred of that was in evidence among any of those who now held up torches or weapons. Even the heads of units in the prime of their life, even those who – if their children had slipped up – might have grandchildren that were close to Diu's age, turned fervent gazes towards him.

But no, this wasn't 'Diu'. Strictly speaking, there was no face beneath Raga's mask.

When he won his position as Raga, and once he had received the rites from the priestesses, Diu unmistakably became Raga, the warrior told of in the legends. Even if the body which was now moving forward had once belonged to Diu, it was now the dwelling in which Raga's soul resided. Which meant that the man known as Diu Wei currently did not exist.

And that was why, among those gathered there – and even among the highly-skilled warriors who secretly believed that “If I had taken part in the battle ceremony, I'd have beaten down a brat like Diu Wei,” – absolutely none of them looked down on Raga. They could not even begin to doubt that he might win.

On the other hand, when Kuon walked towards the centre from the side opposite Raga, jeers hailed down incessantly from the young men.

“You accursed unwanted spawn!”

“Know your place! Not only did you oppose the chief, but you even challenged Raga?”

“He's as shameless as his mother was!”

Sarah bit her lips as she watched, and her brows drew together for a moment when the two of them finally arrived at the centre of the ravine.

Both contestants were similarly stripped naked down to their waists, and wore a shoulder pad on their left shoulder. Both similarly grasped a single, unsheathed long sword. There was, however, one single point of difference between the two men: Kuon was holding his sword in his left hand.

Kuon was right-handed, but it was clear from the start that he would not be transferring the weapon to his dominant hand.

He couldn't.

And the reason for that was because his right arm was pulled behind his back, and bound against his torso with rope.

“Those are the 'shackles' that Suo has imposed on Kuon.”

Perhaps noticing Sarah's shock and disbelief, Mist, the head priestess, explained while maintaining her eyes fixed straight ahead, even though her eyelids drooped so low that it was unclear whether she could even see anything. Any challenger who contested a decision by the chief and who fought Raga would, without exception, be handicapped by 'shackles' that were chosen at the chief's own discretion.

Kuon had mentioned it when he had once talked about his past: the head of the tribe guided his people according to the council he received from the priestesses, who conveyed Tei Tahra's words to him. Opposing the chief was virtually the same as claiming that “the priestesses misheard the Divine Voice.” Which was why that person had to prove themselves beyond any shadow of doubt – so clearly that anyone could see.

Since the dispute concerned the will of the mountain god, Tei Tahra was certain to grant victory to whoever was right, and so, the challenger had to be able to win no matter what handicap he was placed under. There were some who had been made to challenge Raga empty-handed, while he carried a long-handled spear. There were others who had even been thrown into the ring with their eyes covered with a blindfold.

“Has there ever been anyone so far who's won against Raga?” Sarah asked in a trembling voice. She held no sense of hope about the answer.

And, just as expected, Mist shook her head.

“As far as I know, this ritual has always ended with Raga's victory, and no one has ever overturned any of the chief's policies.”

Sarah turned back to where Kuon and Raga were facing each other and, looking at them again, the difference in build between them was obvious. Raga's physique was by no means the most impressive within the tribe, but compared to his burly frame – and even though Kuon had grown taller since Sarah had first met him – Kuon was like a young and flimsy sapling. Forced into a fight where he was at a disadvantage even at the best of times, his dominant arm was now immobilised.

Sarah wanted to scream in protest against what was going on. This was completely stupid. She wanted to break through the crowd and into the ravine at once, grab Kuon by the arm, and drag him back to Atall, even if it was against his will.

But her legs wouldn't move, and her voice wouldn't come out. She realised that it was too late to turn back. If she forcibly broke up this fight, the only fate that awaited Kuon was being thrown to the flames. And so all Sarah could do now was to pray for his victory. A victory which he did not have one in a million chances of obtaining.

Chief Suo stood between the two fighters who were silently facing one another. Riding a palanquin carried on the shoulders of warriors, Mist also headed to the same place. This fight was a way of seeking Tei Tahra's will, but the official verdict on the outcome would come from Suo and Mist.

Mist looked up at the heavens overhead. At the same moment, she lifted the sleeve of her faded robes, and raised a bony arm to the night sky.

“I feel them. Of Lord Tei Tahra's one thousand eyes concealed within the mountains, three pairs now turn overhead. One pair watches Warrior Raga, one pair watches Kuon, and, from high in the heavens, the last pair sees nothing but the truth in this place. You who are not born of the energy of earth, trees and wind must fight. You who are not gods and who question the truth have no choice but to weigh your one, insignificant life in the scales. And then fight... fight... fight!”

The warriors who carried spears or swords struck their weapons against the ground. At first it was quiet and slow, and, since no one was giving orders, the noise was chaotic and disjointed.

As the seconds passed, however, a pattern emerged from the series of uncoordinated sounds. As others followed or were made to follow it, the intensity and speed of the pounding sounds soon swelled until they envelopped the ravine, and reverberated so loudly that they seemed to be challenging the night sky and making the whole mountain shake.

The chief headed up from the ravine while Mist was again transported by palanquin back to Sarah's side.

First, Raga ran the tip of his long sword across the surface of the ground, then put himself in a fighting stance. Kuon raised the blade that he held in his left hand by a fraction.

Having arrived at the top of the cliff, Suo raised his arm, and the noise that had engulfed the entire surroundings abruptly stopped. It was so sudden that a loud ringing sound continued to echo in Sarah's ears.

As it disappeared, Suo shouted,

“Begin!”

And at the same moment, blades flashed, reflecting the light of the flames.