The Grey Witch

by Ryo Mizuno

  The red-clad warrior was clearly no mere mortal.

  “King Kashue, there’s King Fahn,” Parn called out.

  Kashue had abandoned his wounded horse and was fighting with his longsword in both hands. There were only a few knights of Flaim left around him—some had surely been slain, and the rest had been separated from their master in the chaos.

  Kashue followed Parn’s gaze. His stern expression softened for a moment at the sight of Fahn, but then his eyes widened in surprise.

  “That red armor… That must be Beld,” Kashue muttered and ran toward Fahn.

  Parn pushed past his exhaustion in desperation to follow the Mercenary King.

  “King Fahn!” he cried, slashing through goblins and kicking them aside to reach the lord he’d sworn fealty to only yesterday.

  “Parn! It’s good to see you safe—and King Kashue, as well.”

  “I’ve survived, somehow,” Kashue answered, knocking down one of the hideous monsters. “I’m glad you’re safe, Your Majesty.” Kashue slew the last goblin, then drew near to Fahn. “Emperor Beld is over there.”

  “I noticed.” Fahn replied, biting his lip as he watched the red shadow’s slow approach. There was a faint smile on Beld’s mouth—and for a moment, it seemed that even the black blade in his hand wore a satisfied grin.

  “That’s…Emperor Beld?” Parn almost felt like he was being crushed by the Emperor’s menacing aura.

  Beld was getting closer—close enough that they could have run over to fight him, if they chose. Parn considered it for a moment, but Deedlit blocked him and shook her head.

  “Don’t get yourself killed. We don’t stand a chance against him.”

  Slayn agreed—he urged the people around him to step back, and prepared some defensive spells.

  Parn nodded, not because he didn’t think he could win, but because this was clearly a battle between kings.

  “We finally meet, Fahn. I haven’t seen you since the end of the demon god, hm?” Beld’s voice was calmer and more refined than Parn had expected.

  Fahn held up a hand to stop Kashue in his tracks. He took up his sword and stepped forward.

  “I suppose not,” he replied, the holy sword in his hand glowing with a pure white aura, the shield carved with the silver cross held high. He closed slowly on Beld.

  “Ever since we fought side by side, I’ve wanted to see how we would fare against each other. I feel lucky to be your enemy now. We can fight to our hearts’ content.” Beld edged closer to Fahn, swinging the tip of his great black sword back and forth to gauge his timing.

  “I never felt the same,” Fahn replied. “It’s a strange twist of fate, facing you like this, and I wish it weren’t so. But I’ll accept the challenge anyway.” He pointed his blade at the sky and saluted Beld. “Nobody interfere!” Fahn shouted, then without a pause he leapt forward, swinging his sword sideways.

  Beld saw the attack coming at the last moment and swung his sword from the shoulder like a bolt of lightning. The force behind his strike seemed like it would crack the earth—but Fahn simply blocked it with his shield, drove the blade back with a heave, and swung toward Beld’s torso once more.

  With an eerie metallic sound, the blade struck Beld’s armor, making sparks fly. Beld let out a small grunt. Fahn’s sword tip had cut into the armor, but there was no way to tell if it had even reached his body.

  “Not bad, old man!” Once more, Beld attacked with all his strength, the giant blade like a black whirlwind slashing through the air. But Fahn ducked right under, barely seeming to move.

  As the duel progressed, loud murmurs erupted from both armies. The pair crossed swords over and over, the sound of steel clashing on steel resounding through the air.

  Just watching was practically overwhelming for Parn. Their skills were well matched, and neither fighter seemed to hate the other. They almost looked like close friends sparring.

  “King Fahn and Emperor Beld have always been opposites in action and philosophy,” Kashue whispered to Parn. “But I hear that they were once trusted comrades in arms. Fate may have made them enemies, but maybe those feelings haven’t changed, even now.”

  “I agree,” Etoh said quietly. “Emperor Beld doesn’t seem truly evil to me. I believe his heart is pure—I can’t help but think that Karla is behind all of this.”

  “Wort said that they both want to bring lasting peace to Lodoss, even if their methods are different,” Slayn murmured. “That vision of peace is a threat to Karla. If she’s the reason for this battle, that makes this an even greater tragedy.”

  Even the slain goblins strewn at their feet were piteous. If they had stayed in their caves, they would never have met such violent ends.

  The whole battleground was still—Fahn and Beld were the only things moving as far as the eye could see. Few had survived to watch.

  Fahn was slightly more skilled with the sword, but he was an old man, and as the duel stretched on, he began to reach the limits of his endurance and strength. Beld, though, was kept eternally young by the demon sword. As Fahn started to slow down, Beld’s strikes began to get past his shield, hitting his armor with a dull clank every time.

  “No…” Kashue groaned, and almost took a step.

  One of Beld’s guards drew his sword and pointed it at him in warning. “Are you a coward, to interfere in a duel?!”

  Kashue froze—King Fahn’s honor required it.

  “King Fahn!” Parn cried in anguish. Kashue had glanced toward the guard, but at Parn’s cry, he turned back to the duel.

  The sight was heartrending.

  Fahn’s sword was deeply embedded in Beld’s left shoulder, the wound dripping red. Beld’s sword had pierced Kind Fahn’s breastplate so deeply it had speared the cloak on his back.

  A moment later, Fahn pitched forward in a slow collapse.

  “King Fahn!” Parn cried again and turned to the man in red armor with hatred in his eyes. “How dare you?!” he screamed, and ran at Beld with his sword in hand.

  But the warrior who had stalled Kashue was in Parn’s way—otherwise, Parn would have been slain by Beld in one stroke. The other guards who’d been watching used Parn’s attack as a signal to rejoin the fray.

  “I am Kashue, King of Flaim! Beld, Emperor of Marmo, I am your next opponent!”

  Beld had been staring impassively at Fahn’s corpse, but at Kashue’s challenge, he turned to the man with a faint smile.

  “I accept,” he said.

  With no further warning, Kashue slashed shallowly at Beld’s red armor.

  “Is that all?” Beld asked, ignoring the attack. He swung his coal-black blade down at Kashue’s head with ease.

  Kashue dodged at the last moment and attacked again—his blade tore easily through Beld’s armor. Kashue felt his sword sink into the muscle of Beld’s left hip.

  “That’s quite the enchanted sword,” Beld commented, with no indication that he felt any pain at all.

  “Not as fancy as yours,” Kashue replied. His longsword had been forged in the days of the ancient kingdom and was enchanted to slice through armor like paper.

  “To think that a man like you was Fahn’s sworn friend,” Beld snorted.

  “You think you know me?!” Kashue said. “I respected Fahn, I cared for him. I couldn’t be a holy king like he was—just simply a king, going wherever my talent can take me. But I will never be a demon king like you!”

  Kashue swung his longsword nimbly, putting pressure on Beld with his unending onslaught. Beld blocked each strike with his jet-black blade.

  “You have some clever tricks, but all this jumping around—are you sure you’re trying to defeat me? Or are you just showing off for your guests?”

  Kashue’s face stiffened at Beld’s words. Beld used the opening to counterattack, lunging for Kashue’s throat. He barely dodged, falling over backwards to avoid the blade.

  Kashue rolled smoothly back to his feet and thrust. Beld had taken a step forward with another giant swing—but he
stopped just short of being impaled on Kashue’s blade, having noticed something out of place at the last moment.

  “My audience enjoys a good comeback.” Kashue smiled fearlessly, withdrew his sword, and reset his stance.

  Beld lowered his blade in kind. “Was that little tumbling trick supposed to fool me?”

  “You assumed you knew everything about me from my sword, but there is more to me than what you see. I am proud of my whole life. I don’t hide where I came from.”

  “You’re a more interesting man than I suspected. But after a battle with Fahn, this fight holds no excitement for me.” Beld rotated the shoulder that Fahn had stabbed—it hurt, but it was nothing he couldn’t endure. His left leg still supported his weight.

  “Lucky for me. I’ll just slay you and add that to my list of kingly achievements,” Kashue said, holding out his sword horizontally in front of him.

  “Good.” Beld raised his sword above his head in both hands. “This would be boring otherwise.”

  “I will end the age of heroes. I want my people to live pleasantly boring and uneventful lives,” Kashue said and struck at Beld like lightning.

  He had already seen the way Beld fought. The man’s strength and intuition were superhuman, and his sword moved like a wild beast. Every movement was powerful, heavy, and precise—he didn’t need finesse. But Kashue could tell that his own movements were just a tiny bit faster. And his sword’s enchantment meant he didn’t need to swing forcefully—a light touch would slice through his enemy’s armor.

  Extending his elbow and flipping his wrist made a weak strike, but the point of his blade would move quite quickly. In his mind, Kashue could see himself evading the black blade and chopping Beld’s head off. He could practically see how it would go.

  But then, as if reading his thoughts, Beld sped up.

  So, he had another trick up his sleeve. But Kashue was ready to die. And at this rate, he was sure that he and Beld would end up slaying each other. He suspected Beld knew that that was the most likely outcome, too. A thought flashed across Kashue’s mind—dying here would mean he’d be called a hero, just like King Fahn and Emperor Beld.

  But it was not to be. Out of nowhere, a single arrow struck Beld deep in his left shoulder. It knocked Beld’s sword off course—Kashue dodge it with a hair’s breadth to spare.

  Their eyes locked. Beld’s pupils widened as he realized what was about to happen.

  Guided by that look, Kashue swung. His blade sheared through the Dark Emperor’s neck and sent his head flying into the air. The headless torso collapsed on top of Fahn’s corpse.

  “Your Majesty!”

  The warrior Parn was fighting stopped when he saw Kashue’s final blow.

  “Kashue, King of Flaim, you coward!” the warrior cried, voice dripping with contempt. “My name is Ashram! Remember this—I will make you pay for this someday!”

  He walked over to where Beld’s head had landed, picked it up, then turned and began leaving the battlefield, the other guards following close behind.

  For a moment, Parn considered attacking Ashram, but threats aside, he just couldn’t bring himself to strike a retreating enemy from behind. He sheathed his sword. Ashram had been a fearsome foe, and Parn had barely held out against him. Defending was all Parn had been able to manage before their fight was interrupted. Parn felt pathetic. He knew he’d have to find a way to get stronger if he wanted to protect the people he loved.

  Kashue walked over looking haggard and exhausted, all of his usual spirit gone. It seemed that even the Mercenary King had his limits.

  “I’m so glad you’re safe,” Parn said with a salute.

  Kashue sighed. “I defeated him dishonorably. That’s not how I wanted it to go, but that’s how it played out. I suppose my destiny will be my judge.” He frowned at Parn. “I know this will be an awful task, but I need you to deliver King Fahn’s body to Roid.”

  Kashue nodded to Parn’s group, then said, “You know…getting to know you all is the only good to come out of this war. I hope you’ll visit my country when you get the chance. I would be happy to welcome all of you.”

  He fell silent for a moment to honor the two dead heroes before him. Then, without another word, he turned and began to lead his remaining knights on the long trek back to Flaim, where another war awaited them.

  Twilight was descending on the battlefield. Parn stared dumbfounded at the corpses of the two heroes, vaguely aware that their deaths were truly the end of an era.

  “I can’t forgive Karla for this,” Slayn growled—none of his companions had ever seen him so angry before.

  “This is exactly what that witch had planned,” Etoh commented with a scowl. “Marmo and Valis are exhausted, and there are civil wars going on all over Lodoss. Despite the influence of Pharis across the island, it will be a long time before there is any peace here.” He set his mouth in a determined line. “But that is the task before me. I’m going to help Master Genart rebuild Lodoss.”

  “You’ll do it,” Deedlit said with a nod to Etoh. Then she turned to Parn and wrapped him in the tightest hug she could. After a second, Parn hugged her in return, rubbing her back gently—and struggling to breathe in her vice-like grip.

  Then he let out a scream, a single word, “Karla!” That one word felt like a release for all the sick emotions swirling inside him. His voice carried across the battlefield, but there was no one left alive to hear him.

  The sun was setting, bathing the ground in another layer of red.

  “I heard that Elm is dead,” Slayn said simply, wondering who had survived the day. “But what of Marmo’s court wizard, Wagnard—does he yet live?” With Beld gone, they had no idea what would happen to Marmo…nor what Valis would do without Fahn. The entire future of Lodoss was chaos.

  “Let’s go home,” Deedlit whispered to Parn, her voice full of tears. “Roid will be safe. Let’s regroup there. I just… There’s too much sadness here. Even the sight of these goblins laid out on the ground is sad. I know that if they came back to life, we’d have to fight them again, but right now…I only wish they’d get up and start moving.”

  “Mm,” Slayn agreed, voice gentle. “We should go back, Parn. We’re still alive, and the living can do more than the dead. Let’s return and deal with the aftermath of this battle however we can.” Slayn couldn’t help but frown. He wondered if this was really what he’d wanted.

  It made him think of his old friend. He’d been so certain of the divide between absolute good and absolute evil. But there was no justice left in Lodoss now. Evil didn’t exist; it was covered in a grey curse forced to maintain eternal equilibrium. Parn’s scream had expressed exactly what Slayn wanted to say.

  “Karla.” Slayn shivered as he whispered the name. “I will never forgive you. You shouldn’t even exist.”

  They carried Fahn’s remains back to Roid. The Marmo army had also attacked the capital city, destroying and pillaging parts of it. The city of Roid was mourning to begin with, but the news of the death of their Hero King, their symbol of justice, seemed to turn sadness to despair. The only kings of Lodoss were disorder and chaos.

  Genart, high priest of the Pharis Temple, took on the role of defending the public for a while. He released the riches and supplies of the temple to aid the victims of the war.

  This gesture did much to keep the country together. Though the windfall only stretched through Roid and its surrounding areas, it was enough to keep Valis from falling apart.

  Parn and his friends had much to do. Warriors, wizards, and priests were in great demand. Deedlit, Ghim, and even Woodchuck all pitched in to maintain public order in Valis.

  Before they knew it, a whole month had passed. Valis eventually calmed, and by the time the smiles had returned to the residents’ faces, the group had disappeared like they’d never been there at all.

  Chapter VI:

  The Daughter of Marfa

  1

  Near the northern edge of the wetlands that spread northwest
of Roid lay Lenoana Lake, also known as Stillness Lake.

  The companions were ten days out from Roid when they disembarked on a small island in the lake’s center. They had one goal: to confront Karla the grey witch, wizard of the ancient kingdom who had plunged Lodoss into this gruesome war.

  Slayn gripped the wand given to them by Magus Wort. Its spell was supposed to be able to neutralize Karla’s magic.

  The six crept through the fog, none daring to speak. This fog was common on the lake—it was rare for sunlight to reach the water’s surface, especially in the winter. Supposedly, the ruins of a city from the ancient kingdom slept on the bottom of the lake.

  “This is the perfect place for that witch to live,” Parn muttered as he glanced around warily.

  Soon, an old mansion loomed out of the fog in front of them. The two-story building was entirely grey—a fitting color for its inhabitant.

  Slayn’s sharp eyes noticed Ghim rummaging through his pockets. Curious, he leaned closer, catching just a glimpse of gold before it disappeared.

  “Is that a new weapon?” he asked. The dwarf was skilled at creating precise gadgets, which he often used to build traps and weapons.

  Ghim hesitated for a moment, but then passed over the object in his hand.

  “A hairpin—did you make this?” Slayn asked. “What fine work—though, it seems a bit plain to be your handiwork.” The wizard handed the pin back to Ghim. The ornament really did seem a bit simple for a dwarven craftsman. Its base had a rainbow of jewels arranged in the shape of a star, and a precise pattern had been carved into the rest of it. But beyond that, however, the only other enhancement was that the metal had merely been polished—though there was space where more jewels or more intricate embellishments could have been added.

  “I made this during our stay at the castle in Roid,” Ghim said. “You may call it plain, but I consider it my masterpiece. There’s no point in overworking a piece like this. Why should an accessory be beautiful on its own? The important part is what it’s decorating. When an ornament is adorning its owner in perfect harmony, the result is all the more brilliant. A truly masterful piece of jewelry only shows its beauty when it’s worn.”