by Ryo Mizuno
The two mercenaries were so shocked by the Spartoi’s appearance that they didn’t notice the insult. They shared a glance and wordlessly vowed to stay away from that room at all costs.
“I’ll be leaving now,” Karla said. “Stay vigilant…” With that, she retreated to her room. When she reemerged, she was wearing her usual purple dress and carried a staff in her right hand. She descended to the bloodstained first floor and cast a spell with fierce arm gestures.
When the spell finished, she vanished.
The two mercenaries sighed deeply and started carrying their comrades’ bodies outside for burial.
4
Etoh waited until the talking had faded, then stood up cautiously and looked around. His body was still numb from the spell, and he was exhausted both physically and mentally—from their forced march the day before, and from having used such advanced holy magic.
But he didn’t have time to be concerned for himself. They had to escape as quickly as possible. He’d heard the entire conversation between the sorceress Karla and her two minions, and knew they only had a small window of time in which they could escape.
They had to hurry, but there was nothing he could do by himself. He could tell his companions were alive from the quiet sounds of their breathing and the rising and falling of their chests. He could try waking them, but since they’d been knocked unconscious by magic, he decided it would be safer to wait until they woke naturally.
Etoh sat hugging his knees and lost himself in thought.
Karla had been sent by the Marmo Empire and had been part of covert operations in Kanon and Valis. But Slayn had never heard of her. There was that powerful wizard in Marmo, though—the one called Wagnard. Could he have disguised himself as a woman?
Whoever she was, it was bizarre that they’d gotten sucked into two of her plots. It seemed too strange to be coincidence…Could this be a test from the gods?
That answer actually made Etoh feel better. It meant Pharis was watching over him.
It took a full two hours for the others to wake up. Ghim was first, then Deedlit, Parn, Slayn, and Woodchuck. Once they were all conscious, he filled them in on everything he’d overheard.
After he finished, Etoh turned to Parn. “What should we do now?”
“Do you even have to ask?” Parn said. “Rescue Princess Fianna and get out of here before that witch gets back!” He shook his head, still bleary from the spell.
“Right—the sooner the better,” Deedlit said. “Those two men should be tired by now. At least one will probably be sleeping,” She checked her shoulder armor and drew out the hidden dagger within—fortunately, it was still there.
“This is gonna be a bit dicey if that’s our only weapon,” Woodchuck commented, looking at the dagger. “The skeleton outside is pretty tough, right?”
“A Spartoi? They’re more skilled than the average warrior,” Slayn said—the prowess of the Spartoi was why they’d been used as sentinels at the Wizard Academy. Slayn crept quietly to the door and peered out through the crack—the armored skeleton stood there, its hollow eyes watching the door. Slayn turned back to the group. “It’s definitely a Spartoi.”
Parn stood up, fists clenched. “We’ll still have to beat it,” he said.
“This could be used as a weapon.” With a huge crack, Ghim pulled a leg off the room’s table. “They’re not great, but we can use these as clubs. Better than nothing, at least.”
Parn took two of the clubs, and Etoh took one. Deedlit kept her dagger, despite claiming, “Though it won’t work on a skeleton.” She slid next to the door and prepared to leap out.
“Leave this to me and Ghim,” Parn said, brandishing his dual table legs.
Ghim and Parn stood side-by-side in front of the door, with Etoh a few steps behind them. When they were ready, Etoh said the word Karla had told the guards: “Lasta.”
The door slowly creaked open, and the Spartoi appeared beyond. It seemed to know that the time had come to fulfill its purpose. The dangling scimitar was slowly raised, and it readied the circular shield at its chest.
Ghim and Parn leapt out to face the Spartoi. For the first blow, Parn aimed for its defenseless head, but a quick block by its shield deflected his attack. The skeleton struck back, wielding the thin scimitar like a skilled swordsman. Parn parried somehow with his left table leg and thrust the right toward the Spartoi’s ribs, only for his strike to be blocked again.
Indeed, the Spartoi blocked every blow he attempted. And while Parn also managed to block the skeleton’s blows, with every block, the table leg in his left hand was gradually being chipped away.
I won’t last much longer like this, Parn thought, cold sweat dripping from his brow.
Behind him, his own table leg gripped in both hands, Ghim stood stock-still and waited for an opening. That was his preferred fighting style—cinching a victory in a single blow. He calmly followed the skeleton’s movements, sizing it up. He doubted that this monster would be felled with his makeshift club…but there was a way. Parn just had to hold out.
“Ghim, what are you doing?! Parn’s in danger!” Deedlit cried out from behind.
“Quiet!” Ghim yelled back. “Dwarves have our own way of fighting.” Etoh and Deedlit were poised behind Parn, ready to jump in if necessary—but hoping they wouldn’t need to.
“I can’t last like this!” Parn cried out in despair as one table leg took a direct hit and finally snapped in two. The scimitar swung right through it and into Parn’s torso, clanging hard against his armor. Deedlit screamed and looked away.
But the moment Ghim had been waiting for had arrived. The skeleton wasn’t prepared for its sword to swing so far forward—it overbalanced and staggered a step toward Parn.
The moment the skeleton began pulling its sword back, Ghim leapt into action. He swung low, then quickly struck upward toward the Spartoi’s sword arm. He hit his mark on the humerus, which shattered with a dry crack—though Ghim’s table leg shattered, as well. The Spartoi’s scimitar clattered to the floor.
Ghim tossed his useless weapon aside. With a fearsome battle cry, he charged the Spartoi, leading with his right shoulder—the skeleton tried to block with its shield. There was a sickening crack and though Ghim grimaced at the sharp pain spiking through his shoulder, he didn’t slow. Instead, he shoved the Spartoi up, hoisting it into the air.
The skeleton flailed its limbs, but it couldn’t grab on to anything. With another angry roar, Ghim heaved the Spartoi over the gallery handrail and sent it crashing to the stone floor below.
The Spartoi tried to struggle to its feet, but after a few moments its crushed limbs fell limp to the floor, and the skeleton stopped moving.
“We did it,” Parn said with a smile.
Ghim chuckled in return, then peered over the balcony. “Looks like our sleeping friends are up.”
Parn joined him in looking downstairs. The two mercenaries had come out into the hallway of the first floor, one armed with a sword, the other carrying a spear. They looked at the crushed skeleton with trepidation, but after a moment they seemed to notice that their enemies were unarmed and dashed up the stairs.
“Leave this to me!” Deedlit cried as she slid past Parn. She brandished her dagger and quickly cast a spell. The room was engulfed in darkness for a moment, and then the spirit of light floated out. The little glowing sphere darted playfully toward the stairs.
“I’ll go get our weapons!” Etoh yelled and dashed off—they were likely in the room next to their prison.
The Will-o’-wisp danced wildly across the width of the staircase, between Deedlit and the mercenaries. The elf readied her dagger.
“What’s that?” asked the sword-wielding mercenary, taking an experimental swipe at the sphere of light. The moment his blade touched the light, he cried out in pain and rolled down the stairs, clutching his right hand—Will-o’-wisp had delivered a powerful shock to it before vanishing.
The man with the spear paused, distracted by his compa
nion’s screams. That turned out to be a fatal mistake—Deedlit let her dagger fly, and it buried itself right in the man’s throat.
The first mercenary overcame the pain in his hand to challenge Deedlit with his sword, but Deedlit took up the dead man’s spear and finished him off.
By the time Etoh returned with their weapons, it was over.
“Here’s your rapier, Deedlit,” Etoh said, handing the weapon over. He couldn’t keep the impressed look off his face.
Deedlit sheathed her rapier at her hip, smoothed her disheveled hair with both hands, and turned to Parn. “Now what?”
“We rescue the princess, of course,” Parn declared, heading back into the hallway.
It didn’t take long to find the room where Princess Fianna was being kept. It was locked, and they could detect neither noise nor light from within.
Parn and Woodchuck exchanged a look. The thief sidled silently over to the door, took a wire from his pocket, and inserted it into the keyhole.
“Doesn’t seem to be trapped,” he murmured. He jiggled the wire a few times, then the lock opened with a click.
Parn opened the door. The faint light from the hallway illuminated the entryway, but it was pitch dark thereafter.
Parn started to step forward, but Deedlit stopped him.
“This is a princess’s bedchamber,” she whispered. “You men need to stay out.”
Deedlit stepped forward into the room. With her excellent elvish night vision, she could make out a small, trembling figure hiding beyond the bed. Deedlit couldn’t blame the princess for being frightened. She sighed and opened her arms wide.
“It’s all right, Your Highness. My name is Deedlit, and my friends and I are here to rescue you. Please come out, there’s no need to be scared.” She paused, waiting for a response, but the girl said nothing. Deedlit could only hear the sound of her quick, strained breathing.
“Lauma adonia moile de Pharis,” Etoh called out from the doorway. Deedlit glanced back at him.
“Moiros rahm,” a young woman’s hoarse voice replied. “Is there a Pharis cleric here?”
“I’m still only a priest, actually,” Etoh replied, reverently bowing his head toward the darkness.
“We’re here to rescue you, so please come this way,” Deedlit repeated. A small shadow in white sleeping clothes rose from behind the bed and walked over hesitantly.
The moment she caught sight of Etoh’s priest robes with the holy symbol of Pharis, she slipped past Deedlit to leap into Etoh’s arms, letting out a high-pitched wail.
Etoh staggered backwards, and Parn had to support him so he didn’t topple over under the girl’s weight. Parn blushed deeply when he took a closer look at the girl—her nightgown was extremely sheer.
Deedlit scowled at Parn and unbuckled her cloak to drape over the girl’s shoulders. Etoh was also blushing but didn’t pull away from comforting the girl.
“Your Highness,” Etoh said, “you need to prepare to leave this place. We don’t know when the sorceress will be back, so we must go as soon as we can.” Hearing that, Slayn stepped away to retrieve their things, Ghim and Woodchuck following close behind.
“Wonderful. Another midnight march,” Woodchuck grumbled. He wasn’t sure if it was the long day of walking or the lingering effects of the spell, but he felt much more sluggish than usual.
“You’re welcome to stay here and sleep, if you want the witch to eat you,” Ghim said, glaring at Woodchuck. “Everyone’s tired. Stop complaining.”
“All right, all right,” Woodchuck sighed.
“I hope we can use that carriage,” Deedlit mumbled to herself as she headed to the staircase. Parn followed after her to help.
“So do I,” the princess stammered. She made to follow Deedlit and Parn and lend a hand, but Etoh stopped her.
“Don’t worry, Your Highness—we can handle this ourselves. You should get ready to leave.” With that, Etoh followed the others downstairs.
Princess Fianna headed back to her room. Once there, she at last noticed how immodestly she was dressed. Her face flushed with mortification—if Elmore, the Grand Chamberlain, found out she’d embraced a young priest while dressed like this, she would get quite a scolding.
Embarrassment aside, she was truly grateful for the priest’s presence. She was relieved to be rescued, of course, but she still felt anxious surrounded by such strange people. Hearing someone recite Pharis prayers was a welcome taste of home. The others were so odd to her—she’d never met anyone at all like them back at Roid Castle. She shivered. She wanted to go home.
Before, she had wanted to travel to the front lines to encourage the troops—but instead, she’d been tricked and captured. Magic had kept her subdued and captive during the day, and at night, the guards made escape impossible. She had basically resigned herself to her fate—that of being taken to Marmo and used as a hostage—but omniscient and omnipotent Pharis had not abandoned her. He’d sent her angels of salvation, though they weren’t exactly what she would’ve expected.
Fianna traced the sign of Pharis over her heart and offered a prayer of gratitude, then quickly flung off her nightgown and reached for the dress left folded on the table. They’re my only hope, she told herself, but still couldn’t shake the doubt that gripped her heart.
By the time Etoh made it outside, Deedlit was trying to calm a restless horse in a language he’d never heard. Another horse was already hitched to the carriage, waiting quietly. Parn was leading another horse, saddled and ready to ride, in a circle.
Deedlit brought the now-calmed horse over to Etoh and glanced at the priest. “Etoh, why don’t you get into the carriage and take a nap? You look like you’re about to fall over.”
“But—” he tried to object, but the elf shook her head.
“You’ll make yourself most useful by climbing into this carriage, wrapping yourself in a blanket, and going to sleep.” Deedlit spoke gently but firmly. From the moment she’d woken from the spelled sleep, she’d noticed that Etoh looked completely exhausted—sick and deathly pale.
Etoh nodded and, without another word, climbed into the gilded carriage. He felt around the dark interior to find the seat and lie down.
A moment later, he slipped into a deep slumber, as if Karla’s magic had only been delayed.
Dressed and ready to go, Princess Fianna came outside and climbed into the carriage, Deedlit right behind her. Parn forced an objecting Ghim onto a horse behind him. Once astride, the dwarf howled his protests at the terrifying height. Woodchuck took the carriage reins; Slayn sat beside him on the driver’s seat. They were all exhausted, but the thought of Karla made them forget their fatigue. They would be killed if they met her again, and with her powerful magic, she might already know they’d escaped.
With that terrifying thought, they headed out.
Slayn’s staff cast a wan glow on the path ahead. Dawn was still hours away, and their goal—the city of Adan—was even further off.
The journey through darkness seemed to last forever, but eventually the eastern sky brightened and the morning sun rose over the horizon. The tension abated with the darkness. Parn started to drift off despite being on horseback, and Ghim had to keep him awake for fear of sliding off along with him. Woodchuck handed the reins off to Slayn and fell quickly asleep. Slayn left the horses mostly to their own devices, trusting them to follow the path with only a light touch on the reins. They were travelling through fields, beneath the trees planted along the path, their leaves spread wide to receive the sunlight’s blessing. Roosters crowed in the distance.
“We’re still half a day from Adan?” Parn asked Slayn, giving the rising sun a gloomy look.
Slayn nodded. “We might get there before noon. It’ll be another hot day.”
“We should stop for a rest.”
“We should,” the wizard said. “We’re all exhausted, as are the horses. It would be nice to rest in the shade during the heat of the day and then keep going this evening.”
Despi
te their words, they pushed on. They didn’t know how far the witch was behind them, after all. Around noon, however, the horses started to foam at the mouth, and they had to stop.
Etoh and Woodchuck were awake by then. Deedlit and Princess Fianna woke soon after and emerged from the carriage.
The group chose a large tree along the road and settled down under its branches. Ghim dismounted, relieved to feel the earth beneath his feet once more. Parn stretched out next to him and immediately started snoring. Deedlit looked on warmly. Slayn started to doze off where he sat.
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Etoh said, slow and languid. “We won’t have truly escaped Karla’s clutches until we reach the Valis army. We’ll be safe once we make it to Adan, so we’ll just have to stay on our guard and keep moving forward.” Etoh glanced at Parn’s snoring form, then at Slayn, who was still sitting up but dead asleep. “Before we rest, we should decide who’s going to ride next and who’s going to drive. I could probably manage the latter.”
“I’ll ride next, then,” Deedlit offered. “The princess can stay in the carriage, but Slayn and Parn should join her. Wood can drive with you, Etoh. Do you think Ghim would fit next to you both?”
“Not with my girth,” the dwarf replied.
“Then you can sit behind me. There’s a grip on the saddle. Just don’t touch me, or I’ll throw you off the horse.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ghim answered, looking serious. He’d had to cling to Parn’s waist for dear life while sitting behind him—a horse’s gait was bouncier than he’d expected.
“We’ll rest a little while longer,” Etoh said. “But then we have to get going. We shouldn’t be too far from the city.” He looked at the sunlight coming down through the trees. The supreme god Pharis ruled the sun, and its light was his blessing…but its heat was almost unbearable already. It would be a rough afternoon.