Each of the chains hanging from the pipe was a slightly different length. Unfortunately, the one closest to him was also the longest, which meant he would have to fall a great distance before he reached the wheel suspended at its bottom.
He considered just jumping down into the water, when he remembered the warnings he had often received as a child not to swim near the base of the waterfalls that fell near Toksa Village. The water there swirled in such a way that if you went too far down, it would trap you there and never let you back to the surface.
He would have to make a jump for it, and if he missed the wheel at the bottom of the chain, he would just have to brave the waterfalls.
Come, the sword beckoned.
This is another test, Ico thought. If I don’t pass this one, it just means I wasn’t worthy of the sword.
Come to me.
The sword’s voice had a sweet ring to it that reminded Ico of his mother-or maybe it was just that he chose to ascribe a familiar sound to those clear, beckoning vibrations that seemed to beat against his very soul.
Then the adventuresome child inside him perked up. Grabbing the Mark firmly in one hand, he leapt. Wheeling his hands through the air, he worked his legs as though he might gallop on the wind, trying to keep his balance.
With a surprisingly light sound, Ico landed directly on top of the wheel. His legs swayed beneath him and he quickly grabbed hold of the chain. When he looked around, he saw rainbows in the air all around him, so close it seemed he might be able to grab them with his hands.
Drenched to the skin, Ico grinned, letting his eyes follow the rainbows through the air. They winked in and out of existence, their sparkling light looking like applause for his courageous jump off the cliff.
He looked up at the blue sky, rimmed by the curve of the top of the cliffs. The sky seemed less blue than it had before he jumped from the old bridge, and it was veiled by a thin white mist. Evening was approaching.
I have to hurry. He looked across at the other wheels hanging from the chains, plotting his course, and it seemed like the rainbows twisted to guide him, showing him the way.
“Here goes!” he shouted and jumped out into the air. Ico’s arms and legs moved smoothly, no trace of the fear that had sent shivers up his spine moments before. The more he moved, the less he feared. He made the last jump easily and began climbing up the chain toward the pipe, a smile spreading across his face.
He walked along the top of the pipe, nearing the forest, when he stopped and turned to look behind him, wondering what the strange wheels had been placed there for. Why were they hanging from the pipe? What was their purpose?
Looking down at them from this new angle he realized suddenly that they looked like cages. That’s what they are, round cages.
People were kept here, hanging high above the waves-
He trembled with the horror of the thought.
But those cages had led him here. Maybe the rainbows were the traces of the souls of the people who had died in those cages, come back to lead his way. All of them wanted release from the Castle in the Mist.
“I have to hurry,” he said aloud, quickening his pace, leaving the thundering sound of the waterfalls, the dancing rainbows, and the eight silent cages behind.
Ico made his way through the thick foliage, over a rocky crag, and along the stone face of the wall. He found he could hear the voice of the sword best when his mind was cleared of thoughts.
He headed down along the cliff, descending until he figured he was about halfway back down the slope he had climbed inside in the darkness. The path here was narrow, and he had to cling to the cliff to avoid slipping and falling into the ceaselessly pounding waves far below him.
His memories returned to him as he moved carefully along the side of the cliff, grabbing at protrusions with his hands and finding indentations for his feet, jumping when he could not reach the next handhold. The look of the sea, the shape of the rocks, and the flow of the water all reminded him of his first visit. When he had descended even further, a scant three body lengths above the waves, he jumped off the cliff into the sea. This time he fought against the current, swimming with strong strokes into the cave that held the underground pier.
Ico arrived at the lowered portcullis and found that there was enough of a gap at the bottom for him to swim through. He broke through the surface of the water on the other side with a splash. He was about to continue on when he had a change of heart and decided it was a better idea to investigate and raise the portcullis before continuing further.
The rope was easy to find, and though the wheel above creaked noisily when he pulled on it, it was easy for him to raise the portcullis. He brought the rope down as far as it would go, watching water stream off the portcullis back down into the channel as it lifted.
Even as he watched, he wondered why he had bothered to raise the portcullis at all-when he realized the answer. I’m coming back through here. And I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Yorda. I’ll bring her back. It was likely she wouldn’t be able to swim as well as he could, so raising the portcullis was a good idea.
I will save Yorda. That’s what I’m doing. I haven’t given up.
He dove back into the water and swam swiftly onward. Within moments, he could see the leaning piles of the underground pier.
It was quiet. The sound of the waves did not reach this far inside the cave. He swam until his feet could reach the bottom. Then he stood and walked toward the pier, scrambling up on top of it.
Here I am, back at the beginning.
He wasn’t going to take the queen up on her offer. I’m making my own way now. With my own hands-and the sword.
The cave seemed different than when he had passed this way before. It was dimly lit and warm. A gentle breeze wafted through, feeling like the morning wind that blew down through the village at dawn, when the hunters gathered to check the gear and choose the path they would take that day. The armor clinked, laughter echoed down the street, and their voices turned to white steam that drifted in the air. We are off. All is ready for the hunt. It was an energy in the air here that did not exist before. Ico realized with a start that it was coming from himself. And there was another source-
He would have been able to find it even with his eyes closed. He walked along the path that led from the pier, turning right at the intersection. White light shone up ahead. He could almost hear a noise each time the light winked, its outline so sharp he felt he could trace it with his fingers. If he had, he felt like its shape would be the same as the morning star that shone at dawn and the evening star that stood watch over the twilight.
Ico walked toward the white light.
The path ended in a stone wall, and there he found it.
The sword was on a surprisingly small altar, and at first it was hard to make out, so glorious and blinding was the light that shone from it. As he drew closer, he saw that the altar resembled the shape of the Tower of Winds, except instead of the walls that covered the tower, there were four pillars.
Ico’s sandals made wet sounds that echoed off the walls seemingly in time with the singing in Ico’s breast and the light flowing from the altar. The sword sat at the height of Ico’s waist, in the center of the four pillars. It had no scabbard, and its hilt faced toward him.
Come, take me.
I am yours.
The sword spoke to him in his bones and blood, not words.