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Later in the afternoon than I appreciated, we arrived at the base of Shrine Hill, which had a forested mountain vibe. To play at being a tourist, I took photos of everything before stepping up to the large sign that displayed a map of Shrine Hill, including a guide to where to find the shrines, how long it would take to visit each one, and a warning that there were many steps for those wanting to visit all twenty.
The board informed me I would lose four hours to the mini mountain, which would put it after dark before I escaped.
Fortunately for me, Garnet was willing to ride on my shoulder, and she took care with her stone paws and claws, somehow balancing without poking me full of holes. I snagged a brochure from the pile in a holder hanging from the board, which included a map, and decided I would accept my father’s advice on which shrines to visit first. The maze of trails would drive me more than a little crazy, but if anyone asked where I was going or why, I’d express my confusion and act like I had no idea where I was going, just that I wanted to see everything before I left.
To help keep people from becoming too lost, the trails were marked with ribbons matching the nearby shrine’s color.
I photographed everyone around the base of the shrine, noting how the coverage of trees on the slope offered shelter and privacy for anyone making a pilgrimage or playing tourist. I suspected the attacker lurked in the foliage. A little magic went a long way, and someone clever could hide without using any magic at all.
As I wanted people to believe I had no interest in a pilgrimage, I stopped to photograph every flower on the way, getting artistic shots of the paths, and otherwise taking my time. Few others ventured to the place and opted to stay at the base of the mini mountain, and I blamed the clouds building in the sky. Those would grow teeth after night fell, pelting the city with rain while lightning and thunder kept most awake until the wee hours.
I wondered how Garnet would handle the weather, and I decided I’d make a stop in the next few days at some stores to find her more milk and charmed jars to have her favorite treat on hand. If the storm frightened her, I’d hold her through the night and comfort her until I could teach her, over time, that it sounded scary but wouldn’t hurt her.
Well, I hoped.
The dragons tried to keep the worst of the storms at bay, but nature defied even them from time to time.
At my father’s suggestion, as the last thing I needed was more men in my life, I visited the cyan shrine first. I had no idea what to expect, but a small stone platform with a cyan colored box placed on top hadn’t been it. Puzzled, I walked around it, taking photos from every angle. If there was power at the shrine, I felt nothing.
How strange.
The pale blue-green flowers growing around the circular stone pathway around the shrine appealed more than the shrine itself, and I spent a few minutes taking pictures of them. Garnet squeaked, and she rubbed her head against my cheek.
I allowed the camera to dangle around my neck from the strap my father had gotten me, which featured a riot of colors, and petted her. “You’re such a good girl. It’s not what I expected, either. I thought these would be more like those fancy Japanese shrines. I’ll show you pictures of those when we get home, okay?”
Garnet bobbed her head and settled back on my shoulder, purring her contentment.
I left the cyan shrine, and once around the bend leading to the hive of trails traversing Shrine Hill, I checked the map. I would have to go across the entire thing to reach the orange shrine, and heaving a sigh, I meandered across, careful to watch my step.
Rolling down the slope would surely break my fancy new camera, hurt Garnet, and win me a trip to the hospital.
The orange shrine proved to be another box, although someone had painted a triangular pattern around the sides to offer something of visual interest. I took photos of the whole thing, unnerved by the place’s ethereal quiet.
Had the attacks on the shrines driven away everyone? Was the weather responsible? I hadn’t noticed an opening or closing time.
Where was everyone?
To my relief, the copper shrine was nearby, a short trip up the hill through a dense copse of birch trees. Rather than a box, the copper shrine featured a bell. A hammer rested on the platform holding it, and a placard invited me to ring the bell and enjoy the bell’s clarion tone. The instructions offered clues on how the bell would sound based on where and how hard I hit it. After taking pictures, I did as the sign said, and I decided I wanted to hear a faint whisper of a sound of middle pitch.
I tapped the hammer to the bell, and it chimed, whisper soft like I’d wanted. Garnet mewed, and I set her on the shrine’s base. Pointing at the placard, I said, “If you tap it lightly with your paw, it might make a sound. But be very gentle. This is a precious thing to the dragons who honor this shrine.”
With adorable caution, the carbunclo stretched out her paw and touched the bell.
It made a tink noise, and she squeaked her excitement.
Before she could do as cats did when given something to bat at, I scooped her up, praised her for being a good kitten, and pinned the camera to my chest with my forearm while I contained the furry troublemaker. Once I had her situated on my shoulder, I put the hammer back where it belonged, made certain everything was as I’d found it, and moved on.
The gold and silver shrines were nearby, and I questioned how the precious metal boxes hadn’t been stolen. Judging from the teeth marks all over the box, people liked to bite the gold shrine to test its authenticity. I assumed the gold dragons wouldn’t use anything other than gold on their shrines, but I refrained from biting something many had put their teeth to in the past.
Gross.
The silver shrine tarnished in places, and a polishing cloth waited in a black stone bowl with a placard inviting guests to help keep the shrine clean. A little elbow grease wouldn’t hurt me, so I did as instructed. With nobody to observe me, at least as far as I knew, I gave the whole thing a wipe down and had Garnet help with the top. The box supported her weight, and the kitten played at using the cloth with adorable ineffectiveness.
The lack of others at the shrines continued to disconcert me.
At the green shrine, an emerald ball of light hovered over a malachite dais. Shadows shifted along the stone path, also fashioned of some dark green stone. A sign on a tarnished copper pole welcomed guests to the shrine and issued an invitation to touch the shrine and behold an omen.
A footnote indicated that the omens were a form of illusionary chaos magic meant for entertainment purposes only. Laughing, I read it to Garnet and invited her to play with the light if she wanted. She squeaked and bobbed her head, and I lifted her off my shoulder and held her out to the shrine so she could stretch out her paw.