Crossover Fan Fiction / InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Journey to the City of Endless Night ❯ Chapter One Hundred One ( Chapter 101 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I do not own either Inuyasha or the Belgariad/Malloreon series. Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi/VIZ and the Belgariad/Malloreon belongs to David Eddings/DEL Rey. There is absolutely no profit being made from this story. It merely fulfills a curiosity of mine---and a desire to keep some really old friends around for as long as possible. Please do not sue.

Check out my dreamwidth journal for more information on updates and review responses. It can be found here: https://farawayeyes4.dreamwidth.org/Note: This story updates the 17th of EVERY month.

Chapter One Hundred One

She had followed the dark ribbon of the rushing river for days. An inexplicable pull towards the west pushed her forward. The wind rustled the trees, almost whispering her name. The sun glinted off of the river's surface. Birds joyfully warbled in the trees. A strange serenity took root with each step she took. The further she explored this strange land, the more she wanted to see. Without knowing it, there was a destination, somewhere beyond the next horizon.

From her vantage point atop a hill, she spied a rustic village ahead. Its construction appeared foreign. Narrow streets navigated squat wooden houses built closely together in one portion while modest stone housing, an alabaster white, lined broad avenues. It clearly delineated the stark class structure---only two or three of these large structures stood. The village flowed towards the sky in austere starkness. The people, dressed in contrasting attires befitting their stations, bustled about their daily tasks. Those in the poorer section wore shabby outfits with rope belts and drab colors. The wealthier wore sober robes in hues of blue and green and purple. They, unlike their counterparts, walked at a stately pace, as if in no hurry at all.

And yet, both respectfully parted, yielding with bowed heads whenever a black robed individual approached. The cowls of their robes obscured their faces as they processed through the village, obviously en-route to some ceremonial appointment. Clearly, these figures belonged to a religious order even if she didn't recognize it.

Slowly, Kikyo approached this unusual village. It had been at least a week since she had last encountered civilization. With trepidation, she entered. She needed to glean important information. First, where precisely was she? Second, had there been any sighting of the nefarious Naraku? Third, had anyone spotted Inuyasha and his companions? Fourth, what of this pull westward? And finally, what had happened to her? How had she gotten here?

After all, the last thing Kikyo remembered, she had been en-route to visit her sister---therefore in territory she knew exhaustively. There was no tree, shrine, stream, or village that she didn't know by heart. She had been in completely familiar territory one day and in utterly foreign the next. It had jarred her as she ceased recognizing landmarks and guideposts.

Villagers flowed around Kikyo, giving her a wide berth as they passed her in the narrow streets. They eyed her with a suspicious curiosity, obviously as startled by her appearance as she was of theirs. Several whispered questions about her miko garb---finding it most unusual and garish. They found her bow and quiver an odd weapon for a woman to possess. And yet, as wary as they were, these villagers didn't seem to place her on a pedestal in veneration nor did they scorn her for her unnatural existence. Perhaps they did not know---or only had to find out as all other villagers had before.

Nevertheless, Kikyo held her head high, steadily making her way towards a center square. She needed information. Surely she could find someone in authority that could tell her about this place. Looming ahead, Kikyo spotted what must be a temple---even if she didn't recognize the polished mask adorning its wall. It'd be a logical first step to answering her questions. Even so, her spiritual power crackled in warning the closer she came to its foreboding structure. Kikyo instinctively knew that she should not trust this god's clergy or anyone affiliated with it.

Wrinkling her nose, Kikyo frowned at the charnel smell that emanated from this temple. The repugnance of sacrifice wafted from its stones like specters of unspeakable horrors---although the priestess couldn't say for certain which variety they burned inside: human or animal. Either was repulsive and off-putting. Either seemed cruel for cruelty's sake---to appease a god or demon with the spillage of flesh and blood for its pleasure.

Kikyo weighed her options while her eyes traced the ethereal beauty of the polished mask. The hideous expression twisted it, repulsing her. Its arrogance exuded a malevolent cruelty. The sun glinted off of its surface, staining the silver a blood red---suiting its malice. The mask mesmerized her. Who could worship such a capricious god?

It occurred to Kikyo that if she entered this temple, she may provoke great anger. After all, in her experience, not all religions welcomed outsiders. On the contrary, too often they shunned or persecuted them. Considering the nature of this god---so clear in his representation greeting her at the entrance---to enter this temple may prove a declaration of war to the clergy.

Perhaps another may provide her with her answers.

A startled gasp passed her lips as she nearly bowled over. A heavy weight collided with Kikyo's legs, causing them to buckle. She turned to see what had crashed into her. A young, frightened girl stared up at her, her eyes wide. Her ratty clothes and grimy face revealed her station to be poor. Its gauntness gave a fierce sharpness to her youthful expression---revealing a determined desperation.

Scrambling to her feet, she pushed to stand. She said, her words rushed together, “Sorry. Wasn't watching where I was going. I won't do it again.”

Kikyo straightened, assuming her best priestess facade. She smiled warmly at the girl, trying to reassure her. Perhaps if she could earn her trust, the girl would assist her in her queries. She may be an even better resource than the religious order lurking inside the black walls of the grisly temple. Gently, Kikyo gripped one of the little girl's hands, steadying her.

“You're in no trouble.” Kikyo clasped her hand between her own to keep the child from bolting. “I am new to this region, and I fear I need some information. Can you help me?”

“You're not mad?” The girl's cheeks dusted pink in embarrassment. She shuffled her feet, biting her lip in clear indecision. “I'll help you, but only if you'll help me first, lady---,”

“Kikyo.”

“Lady Kikyo. I'm Tensha.” the girl said hesitantly. Her name sounded more like “key key o” in her foreign accent. The girl stared up at her imploringly, her dark eyes swimming with tears. “It's my sister. She needs help.”

“I'll be glad to help, Tensha,” Kikyo said, a concerned frown crossing her face. “What's wrong with her?”

“She---she's sick.” Tensha glanced towards the temple, her eyes wide. She said, her voice hushed, “Father says that they can't find out. But it's been three days since he left to get help, and she's not getting better. Please help, Lady Kikyo.”

“I see. Lead the way and I'll see if I can assist,” Kikyo said, gently resting a hand on her shoulder. “All will be well. You'll see.”

“Thank you, Lady Kikyo.”

The little girl gripped her hand, leading her through the crowded narrow alleys. She zigzagged from one area to another---as if avoiding someone or attempting to lose anyone following. Her eyes darted around and she glanced over her shoulders often. Tensha avoided those in the black robes especially---not that Kikyo could blame her.

The streets exposed the level of poverty in this poorest section of the village. Refuse cluttered their gutters. The pungent odors of waste wafted around them. Several of the shacks appeared ready to topple, leaning haphazardly against one another. People huddled in the doorways, their dull and desperate eyes watching them with suspicious curiosity.

Kikyo picked her footsteps carefully, trying to avoid the worst of the filth. Tensha lead her inside a hut through a ratty cloth door. Instantly, the stench of illness struck her. Kikyo realized that her sister had grown incredibly ill---and that she must work quickly if there was any hope. She let go of her hand, reaching for the herb pouch tethered to her waist. A tea would help---or buy time at the very least.

“Please! She's so sick.”

“Boil me some water,” Kikyo ordered, lapsing into a familiar authority. “We must act quickly.”

The girl scrambled towards the meager fire, snatching a battered teapot sitting nearby. “Yes, Lady Kikyo.”

Kikyo crossed the small room, kneeling next to a cot. She placed her hand onto the other girl's forehead, the heat radiating into her cold skin. The little girl rasped as she breathed, staring up vacantly with glazed eyes. She had a red rash all over her face, disappearing under her tattered clothing to flow down her chest. She needed to cool down or she would die. Kikyo rifled through her herbs, trying to find one to reduce fever.

Finding it, Kikyo quickly crushed it, releasing its oils. She grabbed a cup, quickly inspecting it for cleanliness. Setting it onto a table, she turned, seeing Tensha stoking the fire. The teapot steamed from the spout. Kikyo joined her, taking it from the fire. She dumped her herbs inside, letting them steep. Their clean and fresh scent filled the room, pushing back the cloying stench of illness.

The young girl fidgeted next to her, eying the teapot suspiciously. She tugged at a loose thread in her ratty dress. “Lady Kikyo, will this really work?”

Kikyo poured the tea into the cup, coaxing her to sip. “It'll take a little while, but yes. Her fever should ebb. I need you to get me a damp rag. We need to sponge away the sweat next.”

The sound of fabric tearing filled the hut. Tensha dipped her rag into some murky water in a bowl nearby. She squeezed out the excess, a frown on her face. “I'm sorry there's no more clean water, Lady Kikyo. I haven't made it to the river in days---,”

“It'll be fine for now.” Kikyo folded the damp scrap of cloth and gently placed it on the smaller girl's forehead. “It's temperature that matters more here.”

The heat that radiated from the little girl burned into Kikyo's icy flesh. Its tendrils flowed through her, giving the priestess a momentary phantom experience---the illusion that her own clay body could generate heat as these flesh and blood children did. As quickly as it came, it faded, only leaving embers behind.

“While I wait for the tea to take effect, go. Try and get a fresh bucket of water. It'll give me time to help your sister,” Kikyo commanded gently.

Tensha licked her lips, biting them to keep them from trembling. Tears glistened in her eyes as she stared at her sister. Angrily, she wiped them away with the back of one hand, smudging the grime coating her round face. Fear made her expression desperate, her posture rigid. “You won't let her die while I'm gone, right?”

Kikyo knelt down, looking the little girl directly in the eyes. A long ago childhood memory surfaced, and in that moment she recognized herself as if staring into a mirror. Once, she too, had been the big sister struggling to care for a sick little sister in Kaede. Her miko training had been freshly started, her knowledge limited. Her little sister had been so much younger then---and so very ill. If not for Kikyo's sheer determination, Kaede wouldn't have lived. Kikyo had chosen to devote herself to her studies, mastering both her spiritual and healing abilities so never to be that helpless again.

And then the Shikon no Tama had gotten in the way---spoiling everything.

Kikyo blinked, banishing the painful memories. Gently, she rested a hand on the little girl's shoulder. “I promise. Your sister will be here, alive, when you return. Go. Get more cool water so we can help her.”

“Yes, Lady Kikyo,” Tensha said. She approached the bed, kneeling down next to it. She gently brushed sweaty hair from her sister's brow. “Vensha, I have to go again. I need to get water. It'll be okay. Lady Kikyo will make you all better.”

The little girl kissed her sister's temple before grabbing a bucket and exiting the hut.

At the tender display, a painful twinge centered itself in Kikyo's heart. The cold part of her tattered soul writhed against this wave of empathy, but it couldn't quell it. These little girls had so little and loved so deeply. They had learned in their short lives what a lifetime of miko training had tried to instill in her. That lesson had taken such effort---and here these children taught it to her anew with simplicity and grace. Wordlessly, Kikyo squeezed out excess water from the rag, gently dabbing glistening sweat away.

This child would not die on her watch.

Placing a cool hand onto Vensha's forehead, the priestess breathed a sigh of relief. The high fever had finally broken---her tonic starting its slow and painful work to restore this little girl to health. It would be a long day ahead---but if they could continue to cool her down she would live.

A pained whimper escaped Vensha's lips. She whispered, “Tensha, I'm scared.”

“Hush, child,” Kikyo answered, brushing some dark sweaty hair away from her forehead. “Your sister will be back soon. Just rest.”

“W---who are you?” The little girl coughed.

“My name is Kikyo.” The priestess sponged away more sweat. “We must cool you down. Your fever is still quite high---and could spike yet again.”

“I'm sorry to be such a burden.” The young girl turned her face towards the wall. “Perhaps the Grolims should find me so I won't be such a problem anymore.”

Grolims? Kikyo's brows knit together, puzzled by the term. Could that be the name for the grim priests they avoided in the streets? Why would they target a sick child---what intention did they have? How often had Vensha been ill? Clearly, they had kept this secret from these Grolims for quite some time now.

Whatever their purpose, Kikyo realized that her first instincts had been correct. She couldn't trust these Grolims---and judged that they would react harshly to her presence.

The tattered cloth flap opened and Tensha staggered in, hauling a bucket of water with great effort. Some sloshed out, spilling onto the dirt floor, creating a grimy paste in its wake. The little girl set it down next to the bed, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

“I'm back, Vensha,” Tensha gripped her sister's hand. “We'll make you all better. You'll see.”

A fresh twinge of sympathy filled Kikyo's heart. Tensha placed such trust in her---all without knowing her. Her desperation to help her sister made it possible for her to bring Kikyo into their private world. This trust honored the priestess---making her all the more determined to help.

Taking a cleaner rag, Kikyo dipped it into the bucket of fresh water, sponging away more sweat. The cool water started to make some of the redder rashes fade at their edges---another positive sign that this fever had started to loosen its grip.

Now all they needed was time.

The priestess dipped her rag back into the bucket, squeezing out the excess. She folded it, laying it across Vensha's forehead. The cool rag should ease the fever, allowing it to fall more quickly---and to prevent most of the spikes.

With the little girl resting, Kikyo turned her attention towards Tensha. “Your sister should recover if we can keep her cool. I'll prepare another tonic when she wakes.”

Tensha gently gripped her sister's hand. She kissed her temple, the touch tender and lingering. Turning, the little girl threw her arms around Kikyo. She buried her face into the priestess's chest. “Thank you, Lady Kikyo.”

Hesitantly, Kikyo wrapped her arm around the child. She rested her head atop Tensha's, blinking back tears. “It was no trouble, child.”

In the silence that settled, Kikyo hesitated to ask any of her inquiries. It seemed frivolous now---in the wake of their desperate attempt to save an ill child. Tensha had humbled her---putting so much into fresh perspective. Perhaps she had been put onto this path for this reason. Perhaps, as the nagging need to head west grew, this was a fresh start. What mattered was guarding this life---perhaps to find meaning in her existence trapped in the in-between---both living and dead.

Quietly, Kikyo sat holding a sleeping Tensha close. The little girl had pushed herself to exhaustion. Glancing at her face, Kikyo sighed in resignation. Tensha would need her own medicine. Inventorying her bag, Kikyo sighed in relief. She had enough herbs for both---but barely.

The hut grew dim as nightfall approached. From somewhere a mournful gong sounded, chilling Kikyo's heart.

Tensha whimpered in her sleep. To the touch, Kikyo felt the heat rise in her skin. She must wake her and give her the tonic. Too much longer and she'd be as ill as her sister. Gently, Kikyo laid Tensha on the bed next to Vensha. She quietly prepared the herbs. She filled the teapot with clean water and set it over the fire to boil.

The priestess set two teacups down and polished them to alleviate her anxiety. This fever could boil over first, its angry scarlet a menace to these girls. Once steam emerged from the spout, Kikyo poured the water into the cups, letting them steep. She sniffed them to test their potency, hopeful that it would reverse their climbing temperatures significantly. At any point, either girls' fever may spike beyond her methods---and either could die almost at any time.

Kikyo woke Tensha. “I need you to drink this and get your sister to do the same. Your fevers are climbing much too quickly.”

Tensha blinked bleary eyes, nodding. “Yes, Lady Kikyo.”

Both girls weakly clutched the cups, drinking deeply. Both had disgusted looks on their faces, their noses scrunched in displeasure. Once they drained them, Kikyo set them onto the table.

“Sleep. You both need your rest.”

The two girls curled up with one another, falling asleep. Gently, Kikyo pulled a blanket over them. She wiped some sweat off of their brows, leaving the damp rags on their forehead to assist with the cooling process.

As she watched Tensha and Vensha sleep, Kikyo's heart clenched in sorrow. How she had longed to be a mother. How she had longed to be ordinary. That had been a different lifetime. The ache still throbbed, dulled by time. It was easy to pretend, even for a moment, that she was their mother. She would nurse them to health.

Kikyo would always wish to go back and reject the guardianship of the Shikon no Tama. Things would have ended so differently for her. But should haves and what ifs would never undo the past. She had to face the present and the future and find a way forward. For too long, Kikyo had been frozen in the moment of her death. For too long, Kikyo had let these hopes and dreams hang like an albatross around her neck. In the shifting from the utterly familiar territory of her home village to this unknown land, something had shifted deep inside herself. It must have something to do with this constant pull westward---maybe she would find answers at the yet seen destination.

Behind her, Kikyo sensed hostile eyes on her. She turned, face to face with a haggard looking man. His tattered clothing proved his social class. His gaunt face seemed all the sharper for his angry grimace. He hissed, his body tense, “Who are you? What are you doing with my daughters?”

Kikyo stood, holding her hands up in a supplicating gesture. “I mean them or you no harm.”

“That doesn't answer my question.” The man eyed her critically, his harsh expression befuddled. “You must not be from the temple---or are you?”

Kikyo wiped her hands on a rag, mostly to hide her growing anxiety. She took a deep breath, standing taller. “I am not from the temple. I am a traveler offering only my healing skills. These girls have a high fever. Left untreated much longer and they'll surely die.”

The father set a bundle down onto the table with a thump. His shoulders sagged as he knelt next to his children. He brushed hair from the forehead of one girl. Over his shoulder, he whispered, “Thank you for your assistance---but we no longer require your help.”

Kikyo eyed the bundle, glancing at its meager contents. She doubted this hard-obtained medicine would help. The herbs inside looked wrong. Someone had preyed on this father's desperation. Delicately, she picked up a sprig of the herb, sniffing it. Snapping a piece off, she chewed on its woody leaves. “I'm afraid you do. This is only a cooking herb.”

“A cooking herb?” The man thrust himself to his feet, his expression enraged. “I do not know who you are or where you've come from, but you need to leave. I went to our healer and have been told that this is the remedy.”

“How long have the girls been ill?” Kikyo questioned, choosing not to answer desperate anger with her own. “How many times have you purchased herbs from this healer to no avail? They want your children ill so to profit. You do not have much. Allow me to help---all I ask in return is for information.”

“You're not a Grolim spy, are you?”

“Grolim? One of your daughters used that term earlier. Who or what are they?” Kikyo asked. “Are they the priests from the temple?”

“Vetton, may I speak with you?” a cold frightened voice asked.

In the doorway stood a woman, her arms crossed. Her dress, mended many times, hung awkwardly on her gaunt frame. Her lips pursed into a sour expression, only accentuating the wild look in her eyes. The suspicion in that gaze weighed heavily on the room---meant to intimidate Kikyo.

It didn't. Clearly, this was the little girls' mother. She had every right to be concerned.

“Now, Vetton.”

Vetton glanced from his wife to his daughters, indecision written all over his face. His already hunched shoulders sagged and he sighed in resignation. Vetton followed his wife to a small enclosed area in their hovel. The distressed woman pulled a tatty cloth taut. It obscured Kikyo's view, only hazy glimpses emerging through the threadbare spots.

Nevertheless, despite the hushed voices, Kikyo heard everything within the cramped space of their hovel.

“I just came form the temple,” the mother hissed. “That woman---they're looking for her. She's accused of heresy by the Grolims. The outfit she wears---they described it exactly.”

“Did they state her heresy?”

“They say that she's a rogue necromancer from Dalasia---that she can make living flesh from grave soil and bone.”

Kikyo's eyes widened. How could they know? How did these Grolims know the secret of her existence when she had never heard of them? Were they in league with Naraku? Where was this Dalasia---and just who lived there? Did it have anything to do with this tug towards the west?

“That's nonsense, Zandra,” Vetton scoffed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Vetton, I don't believe Grolim propaganda anymore than you do. They've been preaching Torak's return for the past twenty years.” Zandra paced in the small space. “What matters is that they do---and that the High Priestess of Darshiva does. They want this woman. We can't have her here when they search. They'd think that we'd harbored her.”

Torak? Was that the name of the god? Was the polished mask Kikyo had seen this Torak's likeness? What had happened to this god? Had he been demonic---fooling the populace with false divinity? Was this place called Darshiva? Was the priestess a dark miko---like Tsubaki?

“I don't care,” Vetton stated, gesturing wildly. “Did you know that we were being swindled? The herbs from the healer? They're just cooking herbs. I don't care if the Grolims are after this woman. She's actually saving our little girls.”

“If the priests find out, they'll bend you over backwards over Torak's altar, you fool,” the woman replied, her voice hysterical. “They'll sacrifice our girls, too. That woman is a danger to us all.”

Sacrifice? This Torak must have been a demon. If he required human sacrifice, what real power did he truly have? Did he need the bloodshed to build his power base? Or did he simply thrill at the savagery humans could commit to curry his favor?

“Go and hold Tensha's hand. It's not molten hot anymore, Zandra. It's almost normal,” the father pleaded. “I know it scared me to see a stranger here, but she's helping.”

“Or maybe our healer's medicine has finally worked.” Zandra sighed. “The Grolims are planning a door to door search starting tonight. If they find her here---,”

“They'll find our girls anyways.”

“We might have a chance. We'll be under their knife for certain if she stays.”

Would these Grolims truly sacrifice ill children to this demon, Torak? What did it benefit this false deity? Kikyo ached for these parents. They found themselves trapped in the powerlessness of poverty, disease, and religious fanaticism. Their desperation left them vulnerable to charlatans preying on their need. This place---this hovel---it had a thick miasma of melancholy and despair.

“Fine, but the healer? How do we save the girls?” Vetton sighed, running a hand through his greying dark hair. “We haven't figured that out. This woman has.”

“And I'm grateful---if that's the case.” Zandra eyed Kikyo through a tear in the fabric. “But she cannot stay.”

Kikyo glanced from the parents to the children. Her presence had become a liability. Venturing into this village, she had come seeking answers. She now had far more questions---but Kikyo had certainly learned much. She understood that the Grolims---these black robed priests and priestesses of a god named Torak were her enemy. She also knew that they sought her specifically. A chill ran down her spine as she realized just how close she had come to being seized by them. While Kikyo still had no real understanding of her whereabouts, this information would have to be enough for now.

This wasn't the first time the priestess had been driven out. Since her resurrection, Kikyo had been chased several times from villages. However, Kikyo found it unusual to be driven out this time not because of what she was---but for a false accusation. Surely, it cut close to reality---more than this couple realized---but it had a different feel. Her status as a Shinto priestess or as an undead being hadn't been the cause.

Gingerly, Kikyo checked Vensha and Tensha one last time. Their fevers had truly broken and now they only needed rest. She had no need to remain---nor had she any reason to cause their mother any further distress. Opening her herb pouch, the priestess placed the remainder of the required medicine to ensure their recovery.

Silently adjusting her bow onto her back, Kikyo exited the hovel, making her way out into the twilight. She had no desire to be found by the Grolims.

The strange tug towards the west nagged at Kikyo once more. It called her, giving her a direction.

From the trees, a strange whisper wound around Kikyo. It caressed her cool cheek, pouring serenity into her battered soul. The voices repeated one word, clear and distinct.

Kell.

Check out my dreamwidth journal for more information on updates and review responses. It can be found here: https://farawayeyes4.dreamwidth.org/Note: This story updates the 17th of EVERY month.