“I wonder if they still work?”
Ico ran back to the front gates and lit his stick on one of the torches he found there. Returning, he lit the fuse on one the balls with his newly fashioned torch, and it began to spark and sputter. After pushing the ball up against the barricade, he took Yorda’s hand and moved away as quickly as he could.
The ball didn’t explode with quite as much force as he had expected—he didn’t even have to cover his ears. Even still, it blasted the wooden barricade to smithereens, sending a thousand pieces of wood scattering in every direction. The wind from the blast even extinguished the torch.
Ico grinned. Beyond where the barricade had stood was a narrow passageway with stone walls on either side, a strip of blue sky visible high above.
He would have to move more carefully from here on out. The queen was watching. Ico took the lead, holding up his extinguished torch and walking down the stone-lined corridor.
At the end of the corridor, the walls opened out. To his left was a stone staircase going down to a patch of grassy lawn—another inner courtyard of the castle.
Behind him, Yorda gasped.
“What’s wrong?”
Ico looked back, then followed the girl’s eyes. He looked down at the lustrous green grass below and saw a line of square stones. It’s a graveyard.
Ico took Yorda’s hand. “Is this where the queen took you that night? The underground gallery?”
Yorda nodded and took a step in front of him, looking down at the gravestones lined up in the sun.
“That means we should be able to get back into the castle from here,” Ico said, thinking out loud. He went down the stone stairs. The grass felt good beneath his feet. He walked through the graveyard, trying to read the inscriptions on the stones, but the weather had worn them all away. He touched one. Even the corners of the stones were now rounded. Maybe they were already old when Yorda was here before—the night the queen summoned her below.
Despite what must have been years without care, the grass was uniformly short and not a single blade was out of place. The turf was soft, its bright green contrasting with the darker moss growing on the stones.
It was like time had stopped, preserving the stones, keeping the grass fresh—
Something pricked at the back of Ico’s mind, and then the realization came. The visions of Yorda’s past were all from long ago. Of course! Why didn’t I think of that sooner? The emperor that came here with Ozuma to fight the queen had been the fifth emperor of Zagrenda-Sol. He was pretty sure that the emperor in the capital now was the eighteenth.
For that much time to pass, Yorda must have spent ten or even twenty lifetimes trapped here in the castle—and she was still a girl.
Had the queen placed another enchantment on the castle? The Castle in the Mist was separated from the world he knew, and not just by geography. This was a different world entirely.
Ico rubbed his own arms to stop himself from shivering. Yorda was crouching by one of the gravestones, just as Ico had moments before, trying to read the markings. Or maybe that was the grave that had slid to the side, revealing the stairs? If Yorda touched it, would the gravestone move? For a moment, Ico held his breath, but the stone showed no inclination toward motion. Apparently, it took a queen to open that door.
Ico explored, eventually discovering the stairs and corridor that the chief handmaiden had taken when she brought Yorda here. At the top of the stairs, the wall had collapsed, preventing him from going any farther. The great mountain of gray rubble here didn’t look like something he could blast away, either.
He returned to the graveyard. The walls of the castle rose on all four sides here. The windows were all too high for him to reach. Then he noticed double doors standing in a shadowed corner of the graveyard. The doors, with an arched façade that made Ico think of a cathedral, seemed to lead to a different section of the castle.
Wherever the doors led, he hadn’t been through there before, which meant it wasn’t part of the castle Yorda had shown him in the visions. He called out to her, waving toward the doors. “Looks like some kind of hall. Does that go back into the main castle?”
Yorda only stared at him with a sad look in her eyes.
Ico shrugged. “Well, let’s explore it anyway. It’s not like we have many other choices.”
He took Yorda’s hand and began to walk, when suddenly he felt his hair stand on end. The air around him had grown suddenly colder and darker, even though the sun was shining above.
Then he saw them: dark swirling pools opening, one on the grass, one between the gravestones, one on the landing atop the stairs. They boiled and seethed, and a horned shadow-creature with long, sharp claws emerged before them. He spotted another with wings flying over the stones.
“Run!” Ico shouted. He pulled on Yorda’s hand and made for the doors leading to the hall. He beat back one of the creatures that rose up in their way with his stick. It dissolved instantly, leaving two eyes floating in space. Ico knew it would be back soon.
“Don’t stop!” he shouted. “We have to get through those doors!”
The creatures were on all sides of them now. Yorda swung her free arm, batting at the winged creatures thronging around her head.
Even more creatures emerged from the black pool on the landing behind her. They came down the stairs, jerking strangely, as if walking on tiptoe, one after another.
Yorda pulled away from Ico and ran in a crazed circle to evade the creatures, then her knee connected with a gravestone and she fell sprawling across the grass. The creatures swarmed on top of her, circling as though they were performing a macabre celebratory dance.
“Get away!” Ico growled through clenched teeth. “Don’t touch her!” He swung his stick and roared wildly, and when that didn’t seem like enough, he swung his arms and kicked with his legs, trying to push the monsters away. “Back!” he shouted. “Back to the shadows!”
Ico knocked away another of the creatures trying to seize Yorda, then picked her up by the sleeve of her dress. “Run!”
A single large creature slid in front of them as they made for the doors. Its clawed arms hung down by its side, and it leaned forward, peering at Ico. Its eyes flared.
Why do you protect the girl? It was her mistake that made us what we are.
The creature’s shoulders heaved, as though it were gasping in pain, and its eyes shone with the cold light of winter stars.
From this close, Ico could see what looked like an expression in the swirling dark mists—he saw pain, misery, and anger. But anger toward whom?
You are of our blood.
The creature gestured with its horns toward Ico, as if to prove his point.
Our lives were given to the castle so that the girl could live. Now, we will take her as payment for what we have surrendered.
Ico blinked, not comprehending.
“What?” he said out loud.
His grip on Yorda’s sleeve loosened. She fell to her knees, slumping down on the grass. The creatures advanced, tightening in a ring around them.
Ico took a half step backward, and the shadow-creature in front of him slowly shook its head.
Flee, young Sacrifice. Leave this castle while you still enjoy the book’s protection. We are bound to this girl by a curse that can never be broken. The queen tortures us as we wander her castle, so we will take the girl she wants and keep her to ourselves. It is justice, and justice is eternal. This is not something you can change, young Sacrifice.
Ico took another step backward, eyes still fixed on the creature. He tripped and fell to the grass. Another creature picked Yorda up and lifted her across its shoulder.
The creature turned and walked off, making for the black pool that had formed between the gravestones. Yorda’s arms hung limply down the creature’s back, swaying as it walked.
Young Sacrifice. Enjoy your own fortune, and pity us.
As the creature before him spoke into Ico’s mind, the one carrying Yorda had begun to sink into
the pool. It was already down to its waist.
Ico sat helpless, watching her go. He didn’t know why he wasn’t jumping up to save her. He felt almost…sleepy.
The creature nodded to him. There. That’s right. Now leave.
At that moment, the Mark on Ico’s chest began to glow, a silvery light coursing along the complex pattern. It was a jolt of energy, snapping Ico out of the creature’s spell. “I’m not leaving!”
Ico rolled to the side and sprang to his feet, dashing toward the pool. He reached in, getting his arms around Yorda’s waist, feeling her weight in his hands. Summoning all his strength, he yanked her out of the pool so hard he nearly fell over on his back. Yorda seemed dazed, asleep with eyes open and unfocused. Ico shook her shoulders, and her wispy hair swirled in the air.
“We have to run! Through those doors!”
He gave Yorda a push on the back, then retrieved his stick and took a swing at the creatures writhing around them.
Fool!
The creature’s voice echoed in his mind as the dark shapes behind him gave chase. Now he heard other voices shouting, weeping.
—You can change nothing. The curse will never be lifted!
—The girl is the cause of our misfortune.
—You cannot save us.
—You cannot defeat the queen.
Ico’s hair stood on end. His legs threatened to buckle under him. But he managed to make it to the doors and broke them open with his shoulder, then pulled Yorda along behind him.
Suddenly, all was dark and quiet. Ico couldn’t see a thing. His breath felt stifled. For a moment he feared he might pass out, until he realized that the darkness in which he swam was simply a matter of his eyes having yet to adjust to the gloom within this wing of the castle.
His breathing grew steadier. Soon the floor came into view, and Ico could even make out the mortar in the seams between stones.
They were in a vast, empty hall. High up along the wall, a small shelf ran down either side, with windows that let in a trickle of light above it. The doors had slammed shut behind them, and the creatures seemed to have given up for now.
Someone was crying. For a moment he thought it was the creatures again, but then he realized that it was Yorda. She was lying on the floor, hands over her face, weeping uncontrollably.
Ico sat down beside her, his own legs shaking, his elation at their narrow escape fading rapidly.
Why are you crying? Was it true what those creatures said? That you—what did you do?
Ico hadn’t intended to say anything out loud, but Yorda looked up at him as though she had heard. She put a hand on his arm and gently pushed.
“What?” Ico asked, his voice hoarse. “You want me to run away by myself too?”
Yorda nodded.
“Why? Why would you say that? I don’t understand.” Ico’s voice grew louder, his hands clenching into fists. Yorda simply shook her head, tears rolling down her face.
“Don’t tell me you want to stay here. That you want to crawl back into that big birdcage!”
Ico sat for a moment, catching his breath. He realized that he was close to crying too.
“They were talking to me,” he said to Yorda, more quietly now. “Those creatures out there were talking to me. They said that you were the cause of their misfortune.”
The girl’s shoulders tensed; she hung her head.
“They said I wouldn’t be able to defeat the queen.” Ico sat up on his knees beside her. “Okay, so what do I know: You and Ozuma escape here with the book, right, then Ozuma comes back with the book’s power in his sword to kill the queen—at least he tries. He fails, gets turned to stone, and I guess loses one of his horns along the way, and now the queen’s master of the castle again.” As he spoke, Ico could feel himself gradually calming. The shaking in his arms and legs had stopped. “The shadow-creatures, they used to be Sacrifices—the queen used her power to make them that way, so she could have them as guards for her castle.
“And the Sacrifices are the descendants of Ozuma—I’m guessing that happened at the queen’s request. Some deal she worked out with Zagrenda-Sol in exchange for not destroying them, right?”
Yorda blinked slowly, looking up at him.
“Because they failed to remove her from the castle, that’s all Zagrenda-Sol could do. They had to protect their people.”
Yorda said nothing.
“That’s what the custom of my village is all about,” Ico whispered, looking down at his own fists. He opened his hands to look at them. They were covered with scratches where he had scraped against the wall and the floor while swinging his stick around. There was dried blood on his skin.
Ozuma’s blood.
“It has to end,” he said. He wasn’t saying it for Yorda. He wasn’t saying it for himself. It was a declaration of war. “I have to end it. That’s what the elder wants me to do.” Ico’s voice grew louder, and his confidence grew with it.
“If we just sit around here and do nothing, then one day, the next eclipse is going to come and the Dark God will rise up and blow this entire continent away. There’s no stalling for time anymore, if there ever was. This castle has to be destroyed, along with the queen.”
Ico grabbed Yorda’s slender arm with more intensity than ever before. “That’s why I need you to tell me why Ozuma failed. I have to know why he couldn’t defeat the queen!” So I don’t make the same mistake, he added to himself.
Yorda took her free hand and placed it against her chest, directly above her heart.
“What?”
She was saying something, but Ico still couldn’t understand. He growled in frustration.
It’s my fault, she said. I let my mother escape. I took pity on her and so fell into her trap. At the last moment, our victory turned to defeat.
Yorda struck herself on the chest two, three times.
“You mean…you did it?”
Yorda nodded swiftly, without hesitation.
“You let the queen win? That’s why you want me to leave by myself? Is that what you’re saying?”
Yorda nodded, flooding with relief that he understood.
Ico was staring at her now. “The queen used you, didn’t she?”
Yorda lowered her eyes, and Ico knew he had hit the mark.
“I knew there was something more going on inside you when I found you in that cage—more than just sadness. It was regret.”
Ico noticed new tears welling in Yorda’s eyes and shook his head. “No, we can fix that. We can win this time. Then there’ll be nothing to regret. Think about it. The queen locked you up because she was afraid you’d run away and be out of her control. If you’re free of the castle, you’ll be free of her.”
Ico put his hands on Yorda’s shoulders. “We have to do this, one last time. Don’t let everything Ozuma fought for be in vain. You’re still alive. This isn’t over. Don’t give up!”
But Yorda merely shook her head, like a tiny blossom trembling in a strong wind. No, no, no.
She had already paid too great a price for her last mistake, and now she could see it happening all over. I cannot defeat my mother. I will never be able to defeat her. And we both know it now.
Please, she thought to Ico, let me go back to sleep. Put me back where you found me. Nothing good will come of this.
If her heart fell asleep once more, if she were locked inside the cage, Yorda would feel nothing. She would never see the Sacrifices sent to the castle, never see their faces or hear their voices. If she didn’t know their names, she could pretend they never existed.
As long as she could free this one, the boy looking into her eyes, the Sacrifice named Ico. That would be enough.
I have no right to want more than this. Ignorance is my penalty and my salvation. My final rest. This must be, because I…
Ico let go of Yorda’s shoulders. She looked up, thinking perhaps he had understood her again, but the boy’s face looked even more determined than before.
“Fine,” he said, s
tanding. Though his legs and his arms were covered with scratches and bruises, he showed no signs of pain. “If you can’t fight—if you think you’re what brought Ozuma’s plan down the first time—then we can’t risk you being here. I’ll fight the queen alone.” The smile returned to Ico’s face. “I’ll be fine. See? I’m not scared a bit. After all, I’m fighting to free my family.”
Ico looked down the hall at a door that appeared to lead back into the castle. “We need to find some way to open the main gates or find a way down to the underground pier. Either works for me. Except, I’m going to need your help getting past any idols along the way.”
Ico offered his hand. Yorda stared at it for a moment and then stood on her own. Ico glanced at his hand, hanging lonely in the air, before letting it drop to his side. Either he had caught a whiff of the fear welling inside her, or he no longer cared.
The Castle in the Mist seemed to change the layout of its corridors every time Ico walked them, so that he could go down a hallway into a room where he was sure he had been before and find it looking like it belonged to an entirely different building. Ico grew more frustrated with each mistaken turn, though he knew his anger was wasted on the castle’s stone walls.
Ico wondered if all castles were designed so confusingly. He suspected the queen’s twisted sense of humor was the real culprit here.
He climbed up wide shelves in the middle of chambers, clambered up chains hanging where staircases had crumbled, then called for Yorda once he had found a way for her to join him. After making his way through three or four rooms in this fashion, Ico had entirely lost track of where in the castle he was. Which way was it to the stone bridge where Ozuma stood? Which direction am I facing? He stuck his head out of the window to check the sun and found it to be straight overhead. So much for that idea. He knew that he had to go down to reach the water, but how to go down when he couldn’t find any stairs or ladders leading in the right direction?
As Ico wandered, he found himself outside again in a corridor with grass growing in tufts on the dry ground. There were some trees resembling willows with long slender branches that shook in the wind.