Written for Yuletide 2015, for Himmelreich.
Beta: miss_magrat.
The title is stolen from Anthony Cronin's poem "No promise".
A pale, dead reflector of the sun
When he woke up, the sword was gone.
He couldn't believe it at first. The sword was supposed to be bound to its The Medicine Seller. The bond was supposed to be unbreakable. The Medicine Seller simply couldn't lose his sword – although he could be left behind by it, if the sword decided so – and if anyone tried to steal it, they would die.
The Medicine Seller pursed his lips—
(the memory is old and heavy under his eyelids; he remembers a boy, cunning and hungry, his whole life spent in the poorest part of the city, the boy who tried to rob him while he slept – the after-exorcism sleep, deep, cold and dark as a grave – and he awoke, alarmed, with a "don't!" on his lips, but it was too late; the boy grabbed the sword, figuring it was the most precious thing in the room – and he was so right and so wrong – and then there was a flash, a moment full of pure power, power which made The Medicine Seller's teeth teeter, and then there was no boy, just a handful of glimmering ash and the sword, proud, golden, unscratched)
—and checked the room for an abnormally looking pile of dust. There was none.
The situation became a little... disturbing. After all, there were always parties interested in getting and using the body parts of these particular kind of The Medicine Sellers (it was said that their teeth healed any illness; that their bones, powdered, gave an average human the power of the wisest mages; that the lock of their hair made a man immune to the blades and arrows). The mages, the warlocks, the corrupted priests, the shamans, the witches, the clever merchants, the devoted scientists and doctors... oh, and the demons and the spirits, of course. They were the most interested.
None of them would be above designing a trap for a The Medicine Seller foolish enough to be careless—
(The Medicine Seller had been careless, once; he remembers the pain and the scars, which stayed on this body for a long, long time, for the Other One found them a fitting punishment – a reminder – and refused to heal them; but that was long ago... in the end even these scars faded away– his body has been honoured with the rare grace – when the Other One started to become fond of his The Medicine Seller)
—and he was almost completely helpless without his sword. Yes, he could not use it against human, but for most of the spirits, be it benevolent or malicious nature, it was a clear sign to leave him alone. A sign of spiritual and magical power much above the level of an average creature. He was protected – even if nobody truly knew by whom or what. No harm shall be done to him.
In theory the sword was just a manifestation of that shield. The blessing should still lie upon him. He certainly could still feel the power humming in his veins, crawling under his skin, vibrating in his teeth. He could still feel the mononokes, too – the mononoke living in this area, the very reason he stayed in that village at all, the mononoke, which had him now vulnerable and armed only with some ofudas, scraps of prayers, blessings and exorcisms.
He was much too old and experienced to feel even the slightest desire to check, if the theory was right. But he had a feeling that demons, spirits or humans – whichever led him into this situation – would be glad to call a bluff. Try all these 'blessings' and 'protection'. Check whether his heart, if taken out of the chest, truly – as it's been said in legends – wouldn't stop beating until the end of time.
The most powerful artefact. Able to command the demons, able to open the gates between worlds, able to change the surface and the very soul of the world. Or so they said.
The Medicine Seller's knowledge of the metaphysical was too intimate for him to believe in these tales. But he was certain that his scepticism wouldn't convince whoever – whichever – has been after him that time. And so he needed to act. Take the ofuda and dusted amulets and confront the thief. Maybe he would manage to miraculously win. Maybe he would perish.
Dying would be easier than being vivisected, taken apart, tortured and then built anew. Besides, 'dying' became a hollow word for him a long time ago. So he wasn't afraid. Not exactly. He was humiliated and angry for himself, anger and humiliation – like all of his emotions, except maybe for amusement – cold, distant and diluted.
Preparing for the fight – searching his things, making charms – he waited for the Other One to appear in his head – a fleeting sensation, a sense of presence caught in the corner of his eye – and mock him. But there was only silence. He was alone and that, he thought mirthlessly amused, was probably a bad sign.
He might be in a real danger. Or he might fall from the grace.
'
'
Most of the spirits ran away at a mere sight of him. He walked the forest-path undisturbed; his aura still bright, his charms still powerful and ready in his hand, his clothes and symbols still recognised and respected.
That would brighten his mood if he felt the need for such an assurance. He did not.
He would choose the direction by following the power, hoping that who- or whatever had taken his sword was waiting for him in the place of some spiritual importance. A shrine or a sacred range, perhaps. He could sense such 'springs of power'. One was, presumably, in the middle of that forest. Near the lake, if the inn-keeper's information about the location of the shrines and haunted or sacred places were of any value.
In that lake young monk had drowned himself years ago, it has been said. If that was true, then the place should truly be basked in the power. Rather dark power, but power nonetheless. The Medicine Seller wondered whether he would be able to take from it. Whether he could use it during the battle, seize the sword and then – well, pray for it to protect him.
Or maybe the sword – the Other One – decided in favour of changing its owner. That could happen as well. The powers were rarely merciful on those who failed them.
The range near the lake was deadly calm. There were no birds, no insects. The grass and the flowers, on the other hand, seemed to flourish.
Only the blood gives such a beautiful effect, such a bright, lively colours, thought The Medicine Seller absent-mindedly, the animals must have died here in thousands. If only people were wise enough to avoid this place altogether.
Something shifted between the trees. A shadow? Not, something more material, although definitely not a human.
'What took you so long?', the voice sounded genuinely grumpy. 'I'm bored'.
It looked almost like a human boy, except for the pointed ears and sharp teeth. The Medicine Seller was somewhat sure that the spirit – forest spirit, close to the demons, to be precise – had a tail hidden beneath its clothes.
His sword was lying near to its feet.
'How old are you?', he asked, suddenly feeling bemused.
The spirit blinked, surprised.
'Does it matter? I took your sword and...'
'Well, you're certainly old enough to be thief and old enough to play with sharp objects,' mused The Medicine Seller. 'So maybe I should just assume you're old enough to perish.'
'I'm not a mononoke', mentioned the spirit. 'This sword cannot be unsheathed against me. And you cannot exorcise me. It's not in your power.'
'You seem to know very little about the nature of creatures such as myself', commented The Medicine Seller casually. 'Rumours and lies. But we can find out the truth, if such is your will, little thief-spirit.'
It flinched, a little.
'You cannot unsheathed the sword against anyone beyond the mononoke which Form, Truth and Teason you know,' it repeated stubbornly.
'That is correct,' the voice of The Medicine Seller was smooth, 'I cannot use my sword. And I should not use my... spiritual power against spirits, demons and ghosts other than a rampaging mononoke. I should not. It doesn't mean that I can't.'
Spirit bared his teeth.
'I have your sword.'
'Which you can't use.'
'But I could throw it into the water, couldn't I?' It sounded desperate. 'And this lake is cursed. It's full of demons much stronger than me.'
'Oh. And so you've stolen my sword and then waited for me just to throw it into the lake? Why bother?'
The spirit looked almost as if it was sulking.
'You don't understand.'
'Indeed, I do not. Explain. I might be able to help you, if it's help you're seeking.'
The spirit sighed.
'There is a girl...'
'
'
There had been a girl, to be precise. A girl blessed or cursed by the ability to see spirits. The rest of the story was rather predictable: she had met the thief-spirit. They became friends. They were rummaging through the forest and the villages, playing pranks and laughing. They shared secrets and dreams. And, inevitably, one day the spirit had discovered he had fallen in love with the girl.
Such 'love' is always unhappy, at least according to the The Medicine Seller's experience. From spirit's point of view the human life-span is terrifyingly short, while from the human point of view the eternal youth of the spirits is an eternal immaturity, eternity of childish behaviour. Human adult, not to mention a human elder, would be mostly irritated or exhausted by the ever-energetic, happy-go-lucky attitude of otherworldly childhood friend.
In that case it hadn't even gone to that. The girl died some time ago. And then she became a mononoke. The mononoke whose existence caused The Medicine Seller to visit that town.
And then there was the thief-spirit (it had a name, of course, but The Medicine Seller refused to learn it) who wanted impossible.
'I cannot,' he repeated for a hundred time. 'She's gone. She's dead. Nothing and no one can bring her back. That's how it is with the humans. The only thing I can do for her now – the only thing anybody can do for her, including you – is to help her go through the curtain. To the world where she now belongs. She is suffering now. Holding her in this world – by force – is a cruel thing to do.'
It took him more than an hour to convince the spirit that its friend must be, for her own sake, exorcised.
'She's not herself now,' admitted the spirit finally. 'I know it. I guess I've always... I knew that it will end like this. I just don't want to accept that... that this is really the end. I.. like her very—'
'I'm glad you understand the situation.' The Medicine Seller forced himself to smile. 'Could you, please, give me back my sword now and lead me to your friend's ghost?'
It hesitated.
'I am not giving you that sword. Not until I'm see that you helped her.'
'I'd like to point out that I cannot do the exorcism without the...'
'I'll go with you!' it announced with a note of triumph in its voice. 'I'll help her! Just one last time!'
The Medicine Seller smiled, this time honestly. That would be amusing.
'As just wish, my little thief. Lead the way.'
'
'
The mononoke was living a surprisingly quiet existence. It – or she, as the spirit-thief stubbornly called the creature – had killed just a couple of men in a rather chaotic manner. There seemed to be no order in her choices of victims and The Medicine Seller suspected she might have gone mad because of the shock of the death – the girl was quite young when she died after all.
'How did she die?', he asked his companion.
The spirit didn't answer. Which was strange, considering how talkative he had been previously.
'By fire? By water? By the plague? During labour?'
'Why do you ask? You should simply make her go, right? Send her to the other world. Just do that.'
'As you yourself was kind to mention, I need the Form, the Truth and the Reason, to perform a successful exorcism. The death is usually a trigger of sort. To know the occurrences of it is to possess the key to the riddle. I need the information,' he added, trying – and failing – to sound gentler.
'You can ask her.'
'It rarely works.'
The sun flickered on the sword. The weapon was so close – it seemed like everything The Medicine Seller had to do to be free of this ridiculous affair, is to move a hand and grab it.
But he would not. The spirit, although small, joyful and generally not very dangerous, was a thief by its nature. He could steal everything – that was why he had been able to take the sword in a first place – and could hold on to everything he stole.
If The Medicine Seller made a move to take it, the sword and the spirit would be gone immediately. And he might never find them again.
So he tried to explain:
'Ghosts such as her, they lie to themselves. They're good at that. After some time they stop remembering what is the truth. They're lost in their own fantasies and their own visions of world. To some degree everybody are, but the sword – the exorcism – demands the Truth. Not the illusion or the consolation, not the complements or polite lies. The process,' he added as an afterthought, 'is often painful for those closest to the mononoke.'
The spirit shot him an amused glance.
'Nice try,' it admitted. 'But I'm not going to give you back the sword. Not until the exorcism, that is. But maybe telling you something wouldn't be such a bad idea... Hmm.' It bit its lip. 'She has – had – got three brothers and one younger sister. At least that many survived the infancy. They're all alive and healthy. Her parents too. She was supposed to get married in a few weeks.' It bit its lip harder. 'I think... I think she loves her family. And that man, her fiancé, well, I think she loved him, too. He was – is – quite wealthy. Is that of any help?'
'Of course.' The Medicine Seller's eyes looked at the spirit with fresh interest. 'It's very helpful. She didn't attack anybody of those who had been close to her... That's rare. Usually the mononoke holds a grudge towards someone and said someone is almost always someone close... Why hold a grudge towards strangers? Of course, there have been cases like that, but... they were very particular cases. It doesn't look similar to me.'
The spirit seemed uneasy.
'It's that after-death madness you mentioned, isn't it?', it stated, avoiding looking him into eyes.
'It's not that simple,' was the enigmatic answer. 'But well, tell me, how does she look now? What is her Form? You're a spirit, you should be able to see.'
'She's like a very, very skinny girl in a bridal dress and make-up,' murmured the spirit. 'She's singing softly. A lullaby.'
'So she regrets not being able to become a wife and a woman? Dying before knowing the pleasures of the body and the joy of the motherhood...' The sword clicked. The spirit shuddered. 'Thank you. A common cause, for both man and woman. But it helps us with the Form.'
They walked in silence for a while. The Medicine Seller did not speak because he had a feeling he knew everything and that left a bitter taste on his tongue. The spirit – well, it was probably afraid.
No more nice lies.
'We're almost there.' The spirit gestured towards the old, ruined shrine.
'Thank you for your help,' the voice of The Medicine Seller became terrifyingly gentle. 'Do you think she'll be happy that we – you – are visiting her?'
The spirit couldn't stand his gaze. It looked onto the ground. Its 'I don't know,' was weak and broken.
'You know very well,' pressed The Medicine Seller. 'After all, you're her friend, right? And you're a spirit. You see her. I don't believe that you never visited her. Or rather: never tried to visit her. Because she attacked you, just like she attacks any other spirit or human. Am I right?'
The spirit stayed silent, but it nodded.
'I need to hear it coming from your mouth. It's most likely the Truth and it's the key which she seeks. That's her Reason and that's her grudge – she doesn't know what happened, right? The lack of knowledge holds her there and condemns her to suffering,' his tone was emotionless, as if he was announcing the sentences of some Higher Powers. 'You are the one who knows the truth and you are the one holding it back from her. It's doesn't suit someone who loved her so much, loved enough to...'
'Enough!' The scream of the spirit was high-pitched and full of desperate fury. 'One more word and you will never again see your precious sword!'
'So what? I will probably die. I lived for a long time and I'm not afraid of death. But your friend will never get the help and she will thrive there, the princess of decay and mould. Is this what you want? Is this your friendship and love?'
The spirit covered its ears. The Medicine Seller smiled. These little creatures of forest. So amusing.
'It is not', whispered the spirit, 'It is not what I wanted. I'd never... But I didn't know.'
'That I believe.'
He meant it. There was a great difference between the existence of a demon, a ghost and a human. Difference which many of these creatures simply couldn't understand. Because of that love or friendship between a human and a spirit always ended in one miserable way or another.
But he couldn't condemn them for hoping and trying—
(He remembers – and like all of his memories this one is also floating in a space beyond the time and tenses – one quiet mononoke, living in the ruin of some castle, he remembers sitting with it and drinking tea; they never talked much during these serene moments, but he remembers feeling of solace in his heart; it lasted long, longer than it should – and then, one day, the mononoke went rampant and he needed to exorcised it; for the longest time the Other One mocked him about that "friendship")
—and failing once again.
'She needs to hear the Truth from you,' stated The Medicine Seller. 'The Riddle will be solved then, and it will become the Reason.' Or so I hope, he thought rather grimly. 'And then she will gain the ability to make a choice.'
The spirit's eyes brightened.
'The choice?' it echoed.
The Medicine Seller chuckled coldly. 'Not the one you're thinking of. Staying here, with you? That's not a choice humans have.' He felt wary. Wary, jaded, slightly irritated and somehow still amused. 'She's lost to you already. Just go there, act like a responsible creature and do the right thing – return her freedom to her.'
The spirit nodded and gulped. And then they both marched into the shrine.
And then the hell broke loose.
'
'
It was a fervent mononoke, The Medicine Seller had to admit. He barely avoided its – her – claws and its teeth ripped his clothes.
The thief-spirit screamed. He threw a bunch of protecting charms on the floor and the scream ceased to whimper.
'It's... uncomfortable,' whined the spirit. 'The charms.'
'By all means, step outside of the circle.' The Medicine Seller gestured towards the mononoke, howling and scraping a mere meter from them. The spirit just shook his head. 'No? The barrier is thin, it won't last long. Tell her the Truth,' he hissed. 'Or we both end up in pieces.'
He was exaggerating, of course. He wouldn't end in pieces, he would take the sword from the spirit's dead hands and then fight his way to the door.
The spirit paled. The Medicine Seller ignored it.
'I know that you're wandering without the reason,' he announced, trying to fill his voice with conviction and power. 'I know that is the cause of your grief and revenge, which you unlashed upon this mortal world! But I've came to set you free!' The sword clicked for the second time. The barrier cracked. 'This spirit knows the Truth about your death!' and then, at the same breath, but much quieter, he added 'Tell her or die, as you prefer.'
'I... I...' the spirit staggered, but the mononoke seemed to listen. Or at least stopped her attack on the barrier. 'I thought that we could be together forever! That if you died and became a ghost you would become something, something... something spiritual, like myself... and then you wouldn't have to marry this stupid man! We could be playing and laughing, and singing for hundreds of years... or so I thought and so... and so... when you came to talk to me, before your marriage... you said you would have less time for me... and so I... but I didn't know that it would end like this! I've never wanted it to end like this and...'
'To the point, please. She's losing her patience.' In fact, the only one losing his patience was The Medicine Seller himself.
'And I killed you. You were sleeping and I stole your breath. I could, because... I could steal everything... and I stole your breath and the beating of your heart, but you didn't come to me, you just turned into this stupid mononoke!'
The sword clicked for the third time. It unsheathed itself. The spirit, being at the verge of tears. didn't even notice that. The mononoke stayed completely still.
The Medicine Seller could simply seize the sword and finish it all. But... He took a deep breath.
'You know the Truth,' he said, so very, very gentle; it was the voice the man close to him – long time ago – was using to soothe animals. 'Your hunger is seated. For your friendship you were paid in betrayal... although unintentional one... and you were right to feel anger and confusion. Not to unleashed your fury on innocents, but to feel lost... yes, you were right to feel lost and sad. But now you know the Reason of all this. The Truth is clear. You may choose, then: go to the other side now or decide to stay in this world and fight me – but know that you will lose and you will perish, for no Medicine Seller ever lost to the mononoke, when the sword was unsheathed.'
The sword clicked once more. Shivering with the anticipation, aren't we, thought The Medicine Seller grimly, not this time, I dare to hope, not this time.
The mononoke sighed. Or maybe it was just a movement of the air. The Medicine Seller took the sword, slowly, and then—
('My, my, my little soft-hearted diplomat,' the Other One intoned in his mind, sounding almost offended, 'how could you be so careless?')
—and then she was gone. Fried. The Other One sighed, murmured 'so lucky, so lucky this time' and returned to crouching inside his veins and bones.
The spirit-thief gulped and sank to his knees, finally crying. The Medicine Seller walked away, without sparing the shrine and the little thief – murder – a glance. The forest spirits were, after all, not in his jurisdiction.