The Grey Witch

by Ryo Mizuno

  5

  The group departed not long after the sun had reached its zenith, in the hottest part of the day. The horse carrying Deedlit and Ghim led the way, followed by the carriage driven by Etoh.

  There was nowhere for the witch to hide in the bright afternoon, but they still couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. Parn and Slayn probably felt the same despite being asleep—crammed uncomfortably on the carriage seat, they both moaned in their sleep with every bump in the road.

  “Shouldn’t be long now,” Etoh murmured with a glance at the sky. There were several huge, pillar-shaped clouds to the west—it would likely rain that evening, but they would probably reach Adan before then.

  Etoh glanced behind them on the road. There was no one there.

  As he turned forward again, however, he noticed a black speck high in the air. He blinked to clear his eyes—it was still there.

  He had a bad feeling.

  Woodchuck was lost in thought, staring blankly at the unchanging rural landscape. He was mostly daydreaming about the reward from the Valis royal family. The Holy Knight who’d promised them a reward had died, but returning a princess to her family had to be worth a lot. He could use that money to become an executive of the Alania Thieves’ Guild—or maybe he’d open an inn somewhere. Or he could even spend the rest of his life doing absolutely nothing.

  That made him smile for a moment, but then he shook off that train of thought. Surely he was capable of doing something more. If he convinced himself to be satisfied with an ordinary life, he’d never make up for the twenty-odd years he’d lost in prison.

  I gotta do something big…

  His thoughts were interrupted by a poke to his side.

  “Woodchuck—what do you think that is?” Etoh asked.

  Woodchuck looked where the priest was pointing. He narrowed his eyes. “That black dot?” he asked. “Hm. It’s pretty far, so it’s hard to tell—but it’s gotta be a bird.” He snorted, annoyed that Etoh had intruded on his happy fantasy for something so trivial.

  “Just a bird?” Etoh said. His heart pounded in his chest, and he couldn’t shake the bad feeling. “Let’s wake Slayn and Parn, just in case. There’s no way that’s just a bird—it’s so far away, it must be huge, whatever it is. And it keeps getting bigger—I think it’s heading straight for us!”

  Woodchuck looked again. As Etoh had said, the bird did seem strangely large. “It better not be a dragon,” he said in a shaky voice as he opened the small window. “Slayn! Parn! Wake up—we’ve got a job for you!” He pulled out his dagger, though he knew it’d be useless against whatever beast flew at them.

  “Whoa!” Etoh cried, stopping the carriage in the middle of the road. Deedlit turned back with a questioning look.

  “Hm? What’s wrong?” Slayn asked sleepily, thin face peering out the window. He was still groggy, but upon seeing the alarm in Woodchuck and Parn’s expressions, he climbed out of the carriage, putting up his hood to escape the oppressive sun.

  “Look!” Etoh pointed, and Slayn strained his eyes.

  “I can’t tell from here…” He shook his head, then mumbled a spell under his breath. He focused on the black mass again, then his mouth opened in astonishment. “That’s a roc! It’s a legendary bird, extremely rare—only ever seen in the desert east of Flaim. They say they’re messengers of the gods… But why would there be one flying around here?!”

  “A roc?! There’s no way!” Etoh cried. “It has to be the witch transformed. Look at the size of it!” Etoh was almost screaming, his calm demeanor overwhelmed by the panic the thought of Karla’s fearsome powers roused.

  “That does make sense,” Slayn admitted. He gripped his staff and prepared to cast a spell.

  Just as Parn and Fianna emerged from the carriage, the roc flew over their heads, flapped its massive wings, and landed before them in the middle of the road. The wings blew a huge cloud of dust into their faces; they crouched with tears in their eyes, rubbing to get the grit out.

  Once they could all open their eyes again, the giant bird was gone—and in its place was a woman in a purple dress, a staff in her hand. She walked forward slowly, a faint smile on her lips like she’d found a new toy.

  The witch Karla stopped quite close to them, the circlet with its eye-gems gleaming on her forehead. “I suppose not enough time has passed to say that I missed you,” she said in a gentle voice.

  Parn drew his sword and stepped forward to protect the others, ready to spring into action. Slayn held his staff out sideways and recited a spell in his mind, tapping his foot to enhance his focus.

  “Why are you here?” Etoh asked in a hoarse voice. In the light of day, he could see the witch’s pale, strikingly beautiful face. Her coal-black hair that seemed to absorb the light. A powerful magic emanated from her whole being—and while he couldn’t suppress his fear, he could overcome it. He refused to surrender to her power.

  Slayn thought she looked strangely sad. But a moment later, the woman’s eyes shone blue and cruelly intelligent. Her red lips began a bewitching dance.

  Parn heard a strangely musical murmur. He braced himself, sword and shield prepared, determined to take on her magic with his entire body. Anger welled up inside him at the thought of all that power used for injustice.

  But somehow, the witch’s strange words seeped into the anger he was feeling. Parn blinked. The witch was smiling at him, not the frosty expression from earlier—her gaze was full of tolerance and patience, like that of a goddess of mercy. Parn realized she would never harm him. His weapon drooped in his hand.

  “Stay alert!” Slayn warned. “She’s casting a spell on you!”

  The voice seemed like it came from far away, but it snapped Parn back to his senses, and he willed himself to stay grounded.

  “None of your tricks, witch!” Parn shouted in rage. He swung wildly, as if trying to destroy the spider’s web entangling him. Etoh half expected Parn to charge her then and there, but the young warrior simply resumed his original stance, burning eyes locked on the sorceress.

  “You stole this girl from the mansion, and you have the strength of will to shake off my magic…you have proven yourselves worthy adventurers.” Karla looked at them with honest admiration for a moment, then her ice-cold gaze swept over them. “It would be a pity to kill you now. Will you join me? You may not understand it right now, but everything I am doing is for the benefit of Lodoss in the end. I can give you all that you desire—wealth, fame, knowledge, or perhaps a beautiful companion?”

  “No way!” Parn shouted, furious.

  “If you don’t desire anything, that’s fine. Hand over the girl and leave this place at once. If you refuse, I will show no mercy. You will die here, your corpses charred to cinders!”

  Karla waved her hands and chanted spells one after another in a flowing melody. With each incantation, a flaming red sphere appeared above her and started spinning like a living thing.

  “Unbelievable,” Slayn whispered, his voice steeped in despair. “Each of those is a fire spell. Just one would be enough to kill us all.”

  “Isn’t there something we can do?” Parn asked.

  “No. It would take all my mental capacities to produce just one of those orbs.”

  “Okay.” Parn made up his mind. He’d rather die fighting like his father than live in disgrace. He forced his breath to calm, scanned the landscape between him and the witch, then raised his sword to his shoulder and pointed the tip straight at her bosom.

  Deedlit noticed what he was doing, gulped, and opened her mouth to speak.

  “Wait!” a voice called out—it was shaky, but resolute. “If I go with you, will you spare them?”

  Princess Fianna stepped forward. Etoh watched as her eyes turned to the witch, unwavering, with royal pride and dignity—though he also saw how her slender limbs trembled.

  He edged discreetly over to the princess.

  “Your Highness, we’ll buy you time,” he whispered quickly. “She won’t
use magic that will harm you—if we all run, we might distract her long enough for you to escape. Take the horse, gallop through the fields and into the forest, then head for Adan. Have faith in Pharis’s protection.” Etoh raised his arms. “Now go!” he cried, and the holy light of Pharis flickered above his head. For a moment, a bright flash outshone even the sun, and the witch was forced to avert her eyes.

  Fianna stared at Etoh as if she had no idea what to do. “Go!” the priest cried, and Fianna ran for the horse.

  Slayn cast darkness and put the cloak of night behind the princess, blocking her from the witch’s view. He then stepped sideways to prepare his next spell.

  Deedlit stepped up next. “Wind maiden unfettered, stop the air’s vibrations and muffle all sound,” she said, casting the spell of silence where the witch stood. Then she drew her rapier. Parn and Ghim were already running.

  Karla gestured with her hands and tried to send the balls of fire smashing down on top of them—but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out. She recognized the elvish magic of Sylph, the wind elemental.

  Impertinent fools! Karla shook the ring on her left finger and erected invisible magic protections around her. She stepped back out of the area affected by the elemental’s spell.

  Parn ran in to stop her escape. He thrust his sword at her, but the blade was stopped by an invisible wall. The impact stung his hand, almost making him drop his sword.

  “If you want to die that badly, I’ll indulge you!” Finally able to speak, Karla focused and spread the magic wall around her in order to cast her next spell uninterrupted.

  Parn and Ghim were propelled backwards. Parn fought to resist the unstoppable force, furious at his own powerlessness. He knew they couldn’t win.

  But then, in his moment of despair, a cloud of dust rose beyond the road.

  Slayn’s eyes were still keen due to the farsight spell, so it was easy for him to see what approached. He removed his hood and called out joyfully to Etoh and Woodchuck, who were hiding under the carriage. “It’s the Valis Order of Knights—at least twenty of them! And those robes in front…that’s a wizard from the Academy! It must be Lord Elm, the Valis court wizard!”

  With a quick prayer of thanks to Pharis, Etoh relayed the information to Parn at the top of his lungs.

  “Amazing!” Parn’s face brightened, the despair and hopelessness disappearing.

  Karla overheard—no, the obnoxious priest had made sure she heard. Rage coursed through her but dissipated quickly.

  I suppose fate is on their side. She switched to another spell as she glanced behind. As the priest had said, a group of armed horsemen were galloping toward her at full speed, calling out for Princess Fianna.

  Karla smiled. “Cherish your good fortune—just don’t let it go to your heads. And never appear before me again. Miracles don’t repeat themselves, after all.” She dissolved her magic wall and activated another spell—one that sounded quite different from her usual incantations, spoken in the ancient language.

  Truth be told, it sounded very similar to Etoh’s prayers.

  “That’s Marfa’s holy magic,” Slayn said to Etoh in wonder.

  As they watched, Karla vanished, her smile unwavering the entire time.

  “That witch must be a priestess of Marfa,” Slayn explained. “The spell she cast is known as the return spell and can only be used by Marfa priestesses.”

  Etoh wondered why a wizard would be more familiar with holy magic than a priest like him. He’d heard that most wizards worshiped Rahda, god of knowledge—but he’d never seen Slayn pray.

  “A Marfa priestess?” Ghim asked with a grave look as he pressed closer to the wizard.

  Slayn nodded, surprised by the dwarf’s intensity. “And a high-ranking one, too. At least from what I’ve heard.”

  “I knew it!” Ghim shouted.

  “What do you mean?” asked Slayn. “You know something, don’t you? Something you’ve been hiding.”

  “I’m not hiding anything,” Ghim scowled. His stomach heaved with emotion—joy and anger twisting together. “I didn’t think it could be true…but how is she casting magic? And why would she side with Marmo?”

  6

  Slayn sighed in relief and walked over to Parn. He knew Elm from his time at the Academy, though they had only overlapped for a few years. They were more than a decade apart in age, but Slayn had been accepted at the Academy when he was still a child.

  Elm was a prodigy, similar in strength to Wagnard, and a passionate devotee of Pharis. It seemed natural that he was quickly welcomed as Valis’s court wizard.

  Slayn bowed deep to the middle-aged wizard leading the knights. “It’s been a while, Lord Elm,” he said. “Do you remember me? Slayn Starseeker?”

  The knights were wary, but Lord Elm took one look at the robe, staff, and Slayn’s thin face—and smiled. “I do remember you—you have a distinctive face and voice. You’ve grown up.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I must ask—what are you doing here? Did you leave on a journey after the Academy closed?”

  “Something like that,” Slayn said, sidestepping the question. “Are you searching for Princess Fianna?”

  “We’ve been chasing after a group of merchants that took her. But how did you know? Have you seen her?”

  Slayn nodded. “It’s a long story, but she is with us. The wizard we were fighting had kidnapped her, but we rescued her.”

  As if on cue, the princess emerged from behind Slayn’s wall of darkness—she’d chosen not to escape by herself after all. The knights cheered in relief and delight, and several quickly dismounted and rushed over to her.

  “Looks like we’re the ones who should bow to you,” Elm said. “Slayn, I can’t thank you enough. I had no idea you’d grown to be such a fine wizard. By the way—have you found your star yet?”

  “Not yet.” Slayn answered. “But don’t just thank me. We were only able to rescue the princess thanks to this young man.” He gestured at Parn. “Without his skills and willpower, we never would have gotten her here safely.”

  “I see,” said Elm, nimbly swinging down from his horse. “Then I must thank you as well. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Parn,” he said with a knight’s salute—but he was distracted by the Holy Knights’ white suits of armor. His thoughts from the day before swam through his head as he continued, “I am the son of Tessius, a Valis Holy Knight.” Parn himself was surprised as he blurted it out, though once it was said, he watched them intently for their reaction. Valis knights should know why his father died.

  “Tessius the Holy Knight?” Elm said more sharply than Parn had expected. It made him uneasy. “Is that true? Are you truly Tessius’s son?”

  “Yes. This armor is proof—it may be dirty, but it’s still the official armor of the Valis Order of Knights.”

  “It does look like it,” Elm said, looking him over.

  “There’s no mistake, Lord Elm,” said one of the Holy Knights. “His armor is the same as ours.”

  “It must be true,” said another. “No one would bother claiming to be Tessius’s son.”

  “What do you mean?” Parn cut in. “Please tell me—how did my father die? My mother wouldn’t tell me anything, just said to have faith in him. But rumors say he died a coward’s death…”

  Elm approached Parn and warmly placed a hand on his shoulder. “Your father did indeed disobey orders, but he was never a coward. Lord Tessius’s duty was to patrol the northern border with another young knight and report the discovery of any enemies he saw. But when he learned that a small village was in danger of being raided, Tessius sent the other knight to make the report and stayed behind to fight the savages alone.

  “Your father went to the village by himself, warned them of the danger, and bought the residents time to escape by fighting the savages alone. There were too many of them—he had no chance. Still, he didn’t hesitate. And because of what he did, damage to the village was minor.”

  �
�Is that true?” Parn’s voice was hoarse.

  “It is. His bravery should have been praised. But the laws of chivalry are absolute, no exceptions—so the King had to strip him of his knighthood for disobeying his orders. Anyone who knows the truth, though, can’t help but admire his courage.”

  “Among the Holy Knights, Lord Tessius’s actions were honorable,” a young knight said. “There are twisted rumors about his death because we can’t openly tell the truth…but do you really think rumors such as those could keep one knight’s name alive for so long?” The young knight seemed almost jealous of Tessius’s son.

  “I’m happy for you,” Deedlit said, gently taking Parn’s arm.

  “And Lord Tessius brought us yet more honor today,” the young knight went on. “For among those who rescued our kidnapped princess is none other than his son! This must be Pharis’s divine guidance!”

  “So Dad’s death wasn’t dishonorable after all…” For the first time, Parn felt a surge of pride that the armor he wore came from his father, who had made the right choice—the very same one Parn would have made. It was further proof that his father’s blood ran in his veins.

  Parn looked up into the brilliant sky and said a prayer. “I thank you for the blood of my father, which runs in my veins.”

  In return, he could feel his father’s spirit looking down upon him.

  Chapter IV:

  The Great Magus

  1

  After eight peaceful days of travel, the group arrived in Roid, the imperial capital of Valis.

  The city’s streets bustled with great throngs of people, and both sides were lined with lively shops. The country may have been at war, but that was a faraway concern for the city’s residents.

  As it was built on a delta, the buildings were short, and even the spires of the royal castle jutting up from the cityscape were smaller than those in Alania or Kanon. Instead, the castle of Valis was a sprawling complex surrounded by a moat and stone wall, taking up the greater part of the city center.

  Radiating out from the castle, streets twisted and turned seemingly at random, and the simple, regular facades of the architecture made it difficult for newcomers to find their way to the castle gates. Waterways cut through the city, more obstacles to easy travel. Valis may have been built on flatlands, but the city’s layout made it a fortress.