새벽녘의 사수 슌란/2권

Chapter 2: Mountain Hunters
In the northeastern part of the Zemurian continent, where the impact of desertification was relatively minor, settled a culture considered unique even by the standards of the widely diverse region.
They worshipped Mount Whitecrown, a place known to have fostered countless ecosystems despite its harsh environment, and through living in harmony with this mountain, they gave birth to technologies and philosophies found nowhere else in the world.
The Matagi were hunters of legend, known in song to have slain even the likes of dragons. Yet though once quite known far and wide and though revered for their dedication to their art through their descendants, they were slowly becoming one of among many forgotten cultures scattered along the eastern edge of the continent.
While their ways were still handed down even in modern times, the Matagi's village was nearly empty, its population comprising mostly of the elderly. The youth had left the mountain to use their traditional methods in more lucrative areas like through the Bracer Guild or as mercenaries for hire.
Their legacy was fading with the times.
As of now, however, two relics to represent it were still featured prominently in the village square. One was a wooden carving of the mountain spirit worshipped at their yearly festival. The second, added in more recent years, was a stone monument engraved with the name and family crest of a legendary hunter, Kiiun Olkis.
The time was just past noon. On this day, a young man was standing with these relics. He stood out further still, for beyond his age and fine features, his hair carried a silvery tint to it rather than a Matagi's traditionally fair white.
His hunting equipment lay at his feet. Leaning back against the earthern foundation that held these carvings, he stared up not at them, but past them to the cloudy sky, warming his body with sips from a gourd of amakaze.
'Already done hunting for the day, Chunlan? Can't think of another soul who could keep up with you!'
An elder who had only aged with greater vigor and dignity as the years went on called out to him. He was the chieftain, and he acted as both elder of the village and director of its group hunts.
'Afternoon. Quota's met and income for the village is stable,' Chunlan replied, hanging the now emptied gourd at his waist as he did so. 'Those Calvardian merchants'll take just about anything we sell.'
Chunlan Aisen was the last of the villagers who could still be considered a youth. In the eyes of the chieftain, whose role was to see to their continued existence, this made him more valuable than the high-quality prey they often sold to supplement their needs.
'Now that's some fine work! Fine work indeed. I'm sure your father would be very pleased.'
'Flattery isn't going to get you anywhere here. Afraid my answer's not going to change.'
Knowing well the conversation that was poised to follow, Chunlan reached down to sling his equipment over his back and turned his gaze toward the mountain—toward home.
'Oh! But I assure you, I meant nothing by it. I'm simply grateful we have such a young, strong—'
'Sure hope I'm strong.'
'Wouldn't doubt it for a moment!'
'Couldn't possibly be otherwise with that kind of confidence in me.'
Chunlan maintained cool indifference throughout. To most, the sight of a village elder scrambling to avoid displeasing a fellow so much younger would be quite the spectacle, but the chieftain had his own reasons to persist in this behavior: he had no desire to be chieftain.
In fact, he never desired the position from day one. There were many others who were more qualified than he, but one by one, these potentials left the Matagi's village for greater prospects. After a time, there was only him, and while he fulfilled what he could of his post, his mind was often occupied with finding someone suitable enough to relieve him of it.
Cunlan was aware of this—how could he not be, with such unabashed display?—making him twice as reluctant to accept anything said.
'Are you still worried about what your father said? Best not to let it trouble you. Why not instead take a look at the people around you?'
Though the young man had no intention of doing anything simply because he was asked, Chunlan, perhaps guided by the blood running through his veins, did so. He saw pelts drying in the sun; he saw elders maintaining their weapons, backs strong; he saw two men, jovial from alcohol, sharing heroic exploits while flaunting old wounds.
All things he was familiar with. All things he should have been used to.
'These people recognize your strength. But still, you come here every day and—'
'I'll keep it in mind. Excuse me.'
Chunlan made for the village entrance before any further discussions could made, being very conscious of the fact that he was running away. But this was all he could do. Before he could tell the chieftain what his plans for the future were, he would have to discover them for himself.
His residence was a wood-framed cabin of Western design that overlooked the Matagi's village. Though a bit of a walk from the rest of its residents, he never once entertained the thought of leaving the home his parents left behind.
There was discovery to be found in these solitary walks. Things like the signs of spring's return after a long, harsh winter, or the subtle traces of exotic game having passed through. Chance encounters, new discoveries, and the like were abound throughout this simple trail if one were to look closely, his father taught him, and these were never without value.
Today's encounter required no cunning to notice. Any Matagi would have sensed the presence of so many animals, their number being far higher than what was usual for the area. There had to be a reason for it.
Chunlan loosely placed his hands around his rifle--known as a surube among the Matagi--a modified old-fashioned model from the Calvard Republic. He wasn't certain what to make this anomaly yet, but he would nevertheless have to investigate futher and report his findings to the chieftain.
When he found its source, he realized he needed more than a loose grip out of caution; he needed to be ready to fire.
The presence of wolves so great a size was already a shocking sight on Mount Whitecrown—never mind the number. Rarer, still, was the person they were chasing: a girl whose clothing marked her as one of a foreign land.
The lessons of his past echoed in his mind as he shifted silently into the shadows of a stone crag. 'Listen Chunlan. The Matagi aren't solely hunters; we are protectors of this mountain, its bounties being blessings from Aidios.'
His finger was on the trigger. The rest he muttered to himself aloud. 'We must keep it free from impurities.'
He squeezed, and upon a fiery burst at the head of the muzzle, hot lead shot through the air, evaporating the snow it passed through in an instant. Just as he intended, the bullet appeared as though it were sucked into the torso of a first wolf before exiting through and downing a second.
Chaos rippled through the pack, but the young man knew this was not certain victory; wild animals were driven by survival instincts above all else, and any break in their formation would be mended faster than most humans could react.
'Run! Now!'
He fired a second shot. the girl reacted by turning in his direction till their eyes met. Through snow-tossed winds he could still see the intelligence in her gaze—more than that, even, to an unexpected degree.
She was foreign. How could he not see confusion under these circumstances? Fear for her life? Anxiety over her surroundings? Whatever was happening in this mountain, she had complete clarity on what it was.
Chunlan's first true interaction with the girl came after she entered the crag where he awaited her, where he saved a book that had slipped from her possession from falling into the snow.
'She made it,' he thought to himself. He had indicated a path of escape for her to follow, which she did with excellent haste. 'She must be some girl to have held out against those beasts.'
The sunlight was dyed with a hint of red as it looked down upon Mount Whitecrown, where a large pack of wolves were racing along a highroad. Several other packs, all being driven in the same direction, collapsed into this larger one until they had melded into a massive swarm.
A few selge behind them stood the one responsible for stirring them so, leaving them with no way to go but frantically forward. Scattered all around him were the corpses of boars, bears, and fellow wolves.
'And here I have myself another mountain whose beasts of revered repure have failed me,' the man muttered with boredom born from tedium, eyes scanning the cold carcasses arrayed at his feet.
The man's solid frame wrapped in red and his hair, black and sahved thoroughly with unique patterns, would be enough to catch anyone's attention, but it was his skin that dwarfed these otherwise uncommon features. His face, neck, hands, palms—nearly every visible part of him, save for his ears, was tattooed in arcane symbols that unsettled the mind. So thoroughly covered he was that, certainly, it would not be a stretch to think that if his clothes were stripped and head shaved bare, he would still be covered.
'Whitecrown, eh? Heh. And who thought to crown you?'
His lips curled into a sneer as he looked toward the mountain's peak. 'With no more game to hunt, you're as good as—hmm? What have we here?'
Something caught his attention. He watched this something through the snow with great intrigue, sneer twisting into a smile of twisted delight.
'So you were hiding the fun elsewhere. Seems there's still hope for you yet, mountain.' With a single, effortless thrust, he pierced through a lone wolf that dared to resist him, his stone-tipped spear digging into the ground and forever pinning it to the earth.
He then turned to walk with eager footsteps; as he moved, a gentle red glow alighted across him through his tattoos, and the grin on his face mangled itself into a level of malice and thirst no human should ever be capable of.
To Be Continued

第２回　その山に狩人在り
　ゼムリア大陸北東部。荒廃の影響が比較的軽微であると共に東方でも特異な文化共同体群を有するその地に、彼はいた。　
白笠嶽(しらかさだけ)――かつて厳しい環境ながら多様な生態系を育み、霊峰とも言われた山岳地域である。その環境と調和し生き抜く人々は独自の技術と精神哲学を育んできた。
《マタギ》――龍すらも狩ったと言い伝えられる伝説的狩猟民族、その末裔(まつえい)とされる独自の狩猟集団である。しかし、かつてその名を轟かせた彼らも今や大陸東部に散在する、忘れ去らてれてゆく文化集団の一つになりつつある。今や“マタギ郷”も酷く過疎化し、住人の殆どが老人だ。若者たちは同じく獣の相手をするにしても、より稼ぎが良い遊撃士や商業ハンターになるべく山を去る。技術と文化の継承は途絶えつつあった。　　そんなマタギ郷の中央広場には二つの象徴がある。毎年の祭事で中心となる、《山の精霊》を象った木像。そしてそれに付け加えられるように近年建立された、伝説の《マタギ》たるギウン・オルギスの名と家紋を刻んだ石碑だ。
その日の昼過ぎ、最早この村では珍しい存在となった青年が一人、そんな二つの象徴の前に立っていた。白髪の者が多いこの郷の中に在っても変わらずに目を引く、澄んだ銀髪と端正な面長の青年。彼は狩猟用の装備を地面に置き、像の土台にもたれかかって、しかしそれを見上げるでもなく、曇り空をぼんやりと眺めつつ、瓢箪(ひょうたん)の甘酒で体を温めていた。
　　　「おお、シュンラン。もう今日の狩りは終えたのか？
相変わらず良い手際じゃ」
　年齢に比して衰えを感じさせない健康的で威厳ある老人が青年に声をかける。彼は《頭領(スカリ)》。マタギ郷の首長と集団猟における指揮官を兼ねたような地位につく人物だ。
　　　「……お疲れ様です《頭領》。まあ目標は終えました。
収入も安定してますしご心配なく。共和国商人様々ですね」
シュンランと呼ばれた青年は空になった瓢箪を腰に吊るしなおしつつ答えた。
シュンラン・アイゼン。このマタギ郷に残った最後の“青年”と言っても差し支えない存在だ。郷の存続に対して責任を持つ《頭領》からすればある意味、如何に上等な獲物よりも貴重な資源と言えるかもしれない。
　　　「そうか、流石じゃな。それなら親父さんも喜んでおろう」　
「……悪いですがおだてても、例の話への答えは同じですよ」
シュンランは《頭領》が称賛を始めた事に反応するように装備品を背負い上げ、村の外――少し山を登った方角へと視線を向けた。彼の自宅の方角だ。
　　　「ああ、そういうつもりではない。ただ、お前さんが
しっかり強く生きていけるようになって安心じゃと――」　
この郷においては権力者であるはずの《頭領》が若者の気を害する事に注意を払う様子は、ある意味で貴重な光景とも言えるだろう。だが、それも仕方のない事だ。この《頭領》も実は望んで今の肩書を得た訳ではない。より相応しい者がいる――そう思っていても、その「相応しい者」が立て続けに消えてしまった今となってはこのポストにあって、何とか次代の《頭領》に相応しき者を守らねばならないのだ。
　　「そうだと良いんですがね」
　　　「儂はそうだと思っとるよ」
　　　「まあ、その自信があればご期待に添えるかもしれないですね」
シュンランは終始冷淡であった。彼とて《頭領》の意図くらい理解している――しかし理解しているからこそ、安請け合いをする訳にはいかないのだ。
　　　「まだ気にしておるのか、親父さんに言われた事を。
深く考える事もないと思うがね。見てみぃ、郷の衆を」
《頭領》に言われたシュンランは、その気が無かったにも拘らず――やはり自身の血がそうさせるのか、郷に生きる者達の営みを見回していた。目に映るは干される毛皮に、得物を手入れする老人、酒盛りをしながら古傷を武勇伝と語る男……どれも見慣れた光景だ。見慣れた光景のはずであった。
　　　「連中とて、分かっとらん訳ではないはずじゃ。
それでも、毎日こうして――」
　　　「参考にはさせていただきます。それでは」
シュンランは足早に郷の出口を目指す。無論、逃げと承知している。それでも遺された命題に答えられるまでは――安請け合いはできない。
シュンランの住居は、マタギ郷を見下ろせる位置にある西方風の情緒を帯びた木組みの家だ。郷からいささか歩くが、シュンランは両親が遺した家を捨てるつもりなど毛頭無かった。　
そして、帰宅に時間を要するということは、その分だけその帰路にて出会いや発見の余地がある事を意味する。例えささやかな春の訪れであろうと少し珍しい獣の痕跡であろうと、そうした発見に無意味なことなど無い。父親のその言葉を疑う気になどならなかった。
しかしこの日に遭遇したのは、そうした身に慣れた事象とは全く違っていた。シュンランは自宅とは反対側に伸びる分かれ道から、尋常ではない数の野生の気配を察知した。《マタギ》であれば、この事態の異常性に気づかぬはずはない。事の次第では状況を確認し、《頭領》にも報告する必要もある。シュンランは、共和国の旧式ライフルを改造した猟銃(スルベ)を構え、走る。「……！」
だがその光景を見たシュンランは、そのように悠長に構えている場合ではない事を理解した。必死な様子で駆ける異常な数の狼の大群――これだけでもこの白笠嶽では本来あり得ない光景だ。さらに悪い事にその先にいるのは一人の少女であった。見慣れない装いをした異郷の者だ。
　　（……良いかシュンラン。狩るだけが《マタギ》ではない。　
山を守らねばならん。山の恵みは女神の恵みだ。故に――）
脳裏に、父の遺した言葉の一つが響く。そして岩陰に身を隠したシュンランはその続きを静かに呟いていた。
　　「――だから、穢(けが)れは払わねばならない」
引き金に力を込める。炎と共に吐き出された熱い鉛の塊は空中でその鼻先に触れる雪の結晶を蒸発させ、一直線に目指す軌道を疾走した。そしてシュンランの狙った通り、吸い込まれるように一頭の狼を貫き、その先にいたもう一頭の狼をも射止めた。
狼達の群れが混乱に陥る。しかしシュンランは、生存本能に駆り立てられた獣の群れが見せた隙は、ヒトが想像するよりも早く埋まるものであると知っている。
　　　「陣を崩したぞ、抜けろ！」
二撃目を放つと同時に、シュンランは叫んだ。
その呼び声に反応し、駆け寄る少女の顔が瞳に映る。
異文化に属する者でありながらも確かに伝わる知性を宿した彼女のその瞳は――少女が自身の置かれている状況に対して危機感はあれど、混乱も疑念も抱いていない事を物語っていた。
――この山に“何か”が起ころうとしている、そして少女は、それを必然と知っている！
シュンランは少女が飛び込んでくる際に投げ出された一冊の本を受け止めつつ、確信するのであった。
　　　「……使ったか。ここまでの我慢は誉めてやらんでもない」　
――白笠嶽に通じる、とある街道。僅かに赤みを帯び始めた日光に照らされる中、狼の一団が一方向に向かって血眼に走っていた。複数の群れが同じ方向に追い立てられ、意図せずして合流した結果の大集団であった。
狼達を震え上がらせ、ただ一方に逃げる事を余儀なくした元凶はその数セルジュ後方にいた。周囲に何頭もの狼や熊、猪の死骸を侍らせて……。
「聞いたほどでもない、ここの獣も」
自身を取り囲む冷たくなった猛獣を見下ろして男は呟く。　
異様な風体の男であった。屈強な身体を包む赤いコートと独特の刈込が入った黒髪も目を引くが、それより遥かに目立つのは彼の“皮膚”であった。顔面、首筋、手の甲と掌……衣服や毛髪に覆い隠されていない皮膚の殆どに、妖しげな呪文めいた刺青(いれずみ)がびっしりと刻まれているのだ。或いは、服を脱ぎ頭髪を刈り上げたならば、そこにも余す事なく刻まれているのかもしれない。唯一目に見えて刺青の侵食を逃れている彼の両耳が、逆に異質な存在にも見えるほどだ。
　　「白笠嶽……ハッ、関係無い」
男は白い山を一瞥(いちべつ)するや、足元の屍に視線を戻し嘲笑した。
「狩り甲斐ある糧が無いなら、とっとと済ませ……いや？」　
男は何を感じたか、再び白笠嶽を見やる。一瞥ではない。しばし強い眼光を雪の向こうに鎮座する山に向け、ほくそ笑む。「なるほど、そう来たか」
男は傍らで虫の息でありながら一矢報いんと起き上がっていた狼の一頭に止めを刺す。そして、足取りを早め再び歩き始めた。狼の屍を地面に縫い付けていたのは岩の槍であった。
　　「少しは期待できるかもしれんな……」
男の体を覆う刺青が微かに赤い光を帯び始める。彼はその静かな笑みの中で、隠し切れない獰猛さを――そして、人が持つにはあまりに歪(いびつ)な憎悪と渇望を燻(くすぶ)らせていた。
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