Nolan only fell asleep near dawn.
Maybe because the night watch kept passing by, the guard dogs barked off and on the whole night, only quieting toward the latter half. At last the boy drifted into slumber.
When he woke, he found it was nearly noon already. Harsh sunlight streamed through the cracks between the barn’s warped planks and fell across his face.
Nolan propped himself up with his good hand and looked toward the door of this makeshift jail. Doubt crept into him:
“Strange… the door’s ajar. Did the Headman come by?”
He scratched his head and glanced around. What met his eyes nearly made him cry out.
“You—”
“Don’t shout!”
The gray-haired girl who had been sitting against the straw heap darted forward and clapped a hand over his mouth. Nolan lost his balance under the sudden weight and toppled back into the hay.
“Mmmph! Mmm!”
He struggled, trying to push the girl off, until he heard her speak quietly:
“If you don’t make a sound, I’ll let go.”
He blinked and saw Clytia’s emerald-like eyes bloodshot, her face dark as if a cloud hung over it.
So he stilled himself and nodded.
“Really?”
“Mm-hm.”
Mm-hm—good enough for “yes.” I released him and looked down from above.
“I’m just… resting here a while.”
“Well—if you want to use me as a cushion I don’t mind, but the straw heap’s better, actually…”
“Oh.” I felt the muscles in my face twitch. Putting on a calm front, I stood up.
“In any case, don’t worry. I’ll be gone soon—”
“But your face looks bad. Are you sick?” Nolan propped himself up and brushed the dust from his clothes, worry written on him.
“I’m fine…” I held still a moment, swallowed hard, as though that could press down the restless stirrings of the Seed of the Evil God.
Yes. I understood at last what the Abyssal Contract really meant. It wasn’t simply a gift of black magic knowledge for nothing. In return, I had to yield to the Seed’s guidance—to destroy the enemies it marked out.
The first target was that jackal-were Emmo had become.
I still remembered last night, fighting down the impulse to rush out for a fight to the death, following it in the shadows instead. I knew: on my own, I could never beat it. I had Abyssal knowledge, and the Seed could lend me some power, but Clytia’s young body was too frail to withstand dangerous sorcery.
I’d made the contract for the sake of keeping both Clytia and myself alive—there had been no other choice then. But if it led us to a pointless death, that would be turning the means into the end.
“How long can I hold it off… seven days? Five? Three?” I thought. The Seed’s urge to hunt seemed to grow sharper with every passing day. If I kept resisting, what would happen? Surely nothing good.
“Wait—what are you doing with that?”
Nolan’s voice cut into my thoughts. His eyes flicked to my side. Then I remembered: the poetry book Clytia had carried out—Epic of the Ancient Dragon.
Ah—I’d nearly forgotten it. It had been in my hand all this time, held more by reflex than by will.
“Reading poetry now? Don’t tell me that’s why you came here?” Nolan gave a wry smile.
“Well then, here, take it back.” I meant to toss it but ended up properly handing it over. “Not for reading now, but you can use it to… pass the time.”
“Uh… thanks for thinking of me.” He set the book on his knees and opened it at random. “Actually, reading now wouldn’t be bad. Not much else to do.”
“Oh… is that so?”
I watched him turn the pages so casually. For some reason I couldn’t name, words slipped out of me:
“Then… that page with the poplar leaf—what did it mean?”
“Ah—that? You saw it?” Nolan rubbed the back of his head, face tinged red. “Well, uh, that… it’s just…”
“What? Don’t stammer.” I pressed. Normally I wasn’t so impatient, but today the Seed gnawed at me with a constant anxiety.
“Because that day, when you told me ‘May courage be with you,’ I thought it was a line from here. I kept flipping to find it, and I saw that page…”
He lifted his head and looked at me—or rather, at Clytia.
“Sorry… for snapping at you that day. I thought those jackals were wrong somehow, but in front of the others I used you as a scapegoat. I don’t understand it well, but the epic seemed to say… to face your own thoughts, and not… not to…”
“I said it. You didn’t hear wrong.” I cut him off.
“But, still—”
He seemed about to go on when I heard footsteps outside the barn. My nerves spiked. I raised a finger to my lips.
“Quiet! Someone’s coming!”
“What?”
I didn’t answer. My eyes darted about. Only the haystack offered cover. I slipped into it, pulled straw over myself in a hurry.
“This is… hide-and-seek. I’ll stay here a while. Don’t tell.”
At Nolan’s startled look I winked, then grabbed another fistful of straw and covered my face.
…
“Strange… was the door open?”
Mr. Berli pushed into the barn and saw Nolan sitting before the hay.
“Ah, you’re here. What is it?” Nolan smiled, but his eyes shifted to Diya following behind—and his sister’s face was still dark.
She’s still angry… Nolan felt guilty. Yesterday when she’d brought food she’d cried while scolding him from start to finish.
Her expression looked a little eased now, but knowing what lay hidden in the hay behind him only made Nolan feel guiltier.
“It’s a long story, Nolan.” Berli clasped his hands behind him and paused before saying, “The Headman told me you said you felt some dangerous ‘sense’ from those jackal corpses, and that was why you snuck into Emmo’s place to burn them. Is that right?”
“Uh… yes, that’s right.”
“Let me explain the situation. As it stands, the problem does indeed seem to lie with the jackals. Your sense wasn’t wrong.” Berli glanced at Diya, then went on. “I suspect this may be the influence of Radiance. You know: when a knight awakens Radiance, the divine power can quicken their body’s potential. Cases exist where instinct or premonition becomes especially sharp under Radiance.”
“You mean Radiance awakened some potential in me?” Nolan blinked. “But—you know I can’t feel Radiance.”
“Mm… uncertain. Usually gifted children show signs between six and eight years, but there are exceptions. I thought we’d test again.”
“Test me?” Nolan’s head shot up. “I remember when Diya was tested, she had to go to the sanctuary in Romern.”
“Yes. Because it requires one who already commands Radiance or Holy Light to guide the way.” Berli nodded. “But you needn’t go to such trouble. We can keep it simple.”
“Simple? You mean you?” Nolan guessed—but Berli shook his head.
“No. I have no Holy Light. Diya will do it. That’s why I brought her.”
“Diya?” Nolan froze, then caught on and blurted:
“Wait—you can’t properly awaken Radiance until you’re twelve and at the Royal Preparatory Knights Academy, right?”
He looked at his sister, silent, eyes averted.
“Brother… I…” Diya glanced aside, not daring to meet his gaze. Berli, though, spoke as if it were natural:
“That’s what mediocrities say. Diya isn’t like that. She can awaken on her own without the Academy’s drills. Well then, do you want to try again? If so, I’ll have Diya begin.”
“…All right.” Nolan studied his sister’s turned face for a long moment, then gave a slow, heavy nod.
“Please begin.”
“Diya, stand before your brother. Put your hand on his brow. Nolan, sit upright.”
Berli directed their posture. Then he began chanting a prayer:
“We lift our eyes to you, O Lord of Light, ever-burning flame, dawn’s breaking ray.
We beg your mercy—bestow your boundless might—”
The chant held no power in itself, but it was said to work as suggestion.
A pale radiance veiled Diya’s body, her light-golden hair shining bright.
After a quarter of an hour, the light dimmed and she looked drained. Berli turned to Nolan, whose eyes stayed shut.
“Well?”
“Still… nothing.”
Nolan lowered his head. His tone was flat, but from the angle of the hay where I lay hidden, I could see it—the look of disappointment etched on his face.