by Kumo Kagyu
She caught up to the gray monster with no effort at all, whereupon she leaped up into the branches, grabbing at the moss on the bark.
“I know it’s not exactly polite, but… Yah!”
Using a hand and a foot, she sprang forward, maintaining her poise, while with her other hand, she grasped her bow and put an arrow in her mouth. She drew the bowstring back with her teeth and let it loose.
“GOORB?!”
There was a scream.
The bud-tipped arrow had woven neatly past the plates on Mokele Mubenbe’s back and pierced one of the goblin riders through the eye. The creature, with the bolt lodged in his right eye, writhed and screeched until he fell off the monster’s back and was crushed. All that could be seen underneath Mokele Mubenbe’s foot were four limbs.
“It went that way!”
“Hmm!”
It was Lizard Priest who responded to High Elf Archer’s somewhat panicked shout. He planted both feet on the earth, spread his arms, and blocked Mokele Mubenbe’s path.
A rampaging beast was heading through the forest straight at him, yet not one scale shivered; not one muscle in his tail twitched.
“A fit and glorious opponent this is. Shall we have a combat here and now?”
The lizardman’s great jaws opened in a grin, and a wild laugh escaped him.
What honor would be his if he took victory! And if he should die here in battle, at least he would buy time for his friends. It didn’t much matter to him which way the dice fell. He had firmed his resolve and would now go forth.
Few lizardmen were blessed with the opportunity to confront an ancestor of the great nagas on behalf of their friends.
Wonderful!
Lizard Priest took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the wet forest air, and thought clearly of death. Like every lizardman, he considered death in battle to be the highest honor, for like all of them, he hoped to become a soul who could proceed boldly to the land of the nagas at the center of the ever-turning wheel of life.
“Iiiiiiiiiiiyyyahhhhhhhhhhhh!!”
Borrowing the strength of his forefathers, Lizard Priest’s own Dragon’s Roar flew from his mouth like fire breath. The hot air he expelled from his lungs caused the entire place to quaver and quake as it flew out into the world.
“MOOOOOBMMBE!!” Mokele Mubenbe bellowed in return. It stamped the ground with its rear legs as if issuing a challenge to the lizardman who stood before it, holding its front legs aloft.
It was impossible to say whether such a vast and great creature was actually in any way intimidated by Lizard Priest. But whatever the case, the adventurer had succeeded in arousing the monster’s ire at an impertinent challenger.
The upraised front legs came down at Lizard Priest like twin hammers…
“Drink deep, sing loud, let the spirits lead you! Sing loud, step quick, and when to sleep they see you, may a jar of fire wine be in your dreams to greet you!”
The monster reeled and stumbled. Its feet slammed into the earth, throwing up mud, well away from Lizard Priest.
“Hmm! Well. Goodness gracious.”
“Call it a draw and let’s keep going, Scaly!”
It was the Stupor spell. Dwarf Shaman, who had appeared at Lizard Priest’s side without him even noticing, held in one hand the jar of wine that allowed him to use the magic.
They might have been in an elvish village, in the middle of the elves’ forest, but the sprites of the spirits still had a deep affinity for dwarves. And for gods.
“MOKEEEEEKEKELE…”
Mokele Mubenbe, which had imbibed no small amount of the spell, shook its head uncertainly.
“Right, all good, Beard-cutter!”
“Good.”
Now Goblin Slayer, who had been waiting by the root of the giant tree behind them, sprang into action. He quickly pulled an egg-like object from his pouch, flinging it in a single smooth motion.
“MOLLLLKEEEEEL?!?!?!”
The object hit the monster in the face, waking it up but also causing it to cry out and thrash with pain.
The egg was full of a blinding powder made up of crushed peppers and insects. It was not remotely pleasant to get hit with.
Now unable to see, and still not thinking entirely clearly, Mokele Mubenbe began to flail wildly. Its neck, its horns, its tail, the plates on its back, were everywhere at once, like a localized typhoon. If one were to approach carelessly, one would soon find oneself thrown back.
“So what do we do?” Priestess asked from beside him, her expression tense. She must have been nervous. Goblin Slayer, however, didn’t seem bothered by her imploring gaze.
“We have robbed it of its ability to think,” he answered calmly. “Now, we finish it off.”
He raised a hand over his head.
“Drop it.”
“Um, are you sure? Is it okay?”
Above them, Cow Girl looked over the edge of the balcony that jutted out from the great tree, clearly hesitant.
“I do not mind.”
Okay. She nodded, not appearing entirely convinced, then grabbed the thing that was sitting on the ground.
It was rather bulky and heavy; even with the muscles she had developed doing farmwork, it took her some effort.
She looked at Guild Girl across from her, thankful that there were two of them.
“Okay, I’ll take this side…”
“All right, I’ve got this one. Just give the word and we’ll lift.”
“Mm. Okay… Now!!”
The two girls hauled the thing off the ground, then flung it away: it could almost have been described as a bundle of ropes.
Specifically, it was the gaggle of leather straps Goblin Slayer had been working on until just moments before.
It hit the ground with a great ripple, twisting like a living thing.
“Eek!” Priestess couldn’t help jumping back, but Goblin Slayer simply grabbed the end of one of the straps.
“You two, stay up there.”
A voice came back down at him: “Are you all right?” But he waved his hand as if to tell them to stay back then hefted the net onto his back. Lizard Priest took up one of the dangling ends with a noise of considerable interest.
“And what will we do with this?”
“We will throw it,” Goblin Slayer said. “And entangle the creature’s legs.”
“Entanglement? Do you think that will be enough?”
“If it isn’t, I will think of something else.”
“Very logical.”
The two warriors ran nimbly, maintaining distance perfectly.
“Oh-ho,” said Dwarf Shaman, jumping back; from her vantage point, High Elf Archer let out an impressed “Huh!”
One step, two, three.
As they closed the last of the distance, Goblin Slayer casually tossed the net.
Of course, Mokele Mubenbe was not so easily taken in. The quasi-divine beast stomped on the net with its giant foot. The shock wave caused the straps to waver.
The bouncing net caught the monster’s foot. The ends and edges caught on the trees and became more tangled still.
“Ho!” Observing the situation, Lizard Priest stroked his jaw appreciatively and rolled his eyes. “A fine plan indeed.”
“We still don’t know.”
“But even if we do nothing further, the net should continue to ensnare it.”
With its restricted vision, the monster struggled mightily, howling and shaking the ground. But each time it did so, the net became more and more trapped on branches and bushes.
The harder it tried to escape, the more the heavy stones tied to the net slowed its movements…
“MBEMBEMBEMBE?!?!”
Finally, the creature reached its breaking point.
Mokele Mubenbe’s massive body, all four limbs now restrained, began to tilt.
And once the motion started, there was no stopping it.
There was nothing for the monster to do but fall over.
Mokele Mubenbe collapsed on
to the ground with an earthshaking slam.
“…Y-you brought it down…?” Priestess asked, stunned.
“In the most literal sense, yes.”
A cloud of dust filled the air, and the monster’s pitiful crying could be heard.
Goblin Slayer shook his head at the young cleric, and she gave a small nod. Then she grasped her sounding staff, closed her eyes, quickly whispered the name of the Earth Mother, and began to pray—for all the dead goblins.
“…Are you satisfied?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I’ll go handle first aid!”
“All right.”
“I think I might just go with you,” Dwarf Shaman said, slapping his belly and causing a ripple in the spirits in his jar. “If that thing looks like it will cause any trouble, I can just cast Stupor on it again.”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’d appreciate it!”
Priestess went pattering away, followed by the distinctly heavier footsteps of Dwarf Shaman.
Mokele Mubenbe moaned piteously, projecting an air of anxiety, but then came Priestess’s healing incantation, “O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, lay your revered hand upon this child’s wounds,” and the creature’s injuries were healed.
The divine will was present. This creature, more god than beast, ought to understand that. Thus, Mokele Mubenbe grew more and more still. Goblin Slayer therefore ignored it and moved brusquely to his next destination.
That was the corpses of the goblins who had been crushed beneath the monster, not that anyone would feel sorry for them.
“…Hmm.”
The bodies had become pools of blood and guts and bones, with bits of leather armor mixed in. Although their former weapons were now too broken for him to be certain, it seemed they had been carrying daggers. At the very least, the armaments were not made of stone. They were metal… Steel blades. He was sure someone must be producing them.
“…Where did you learn to spring a trap like that?”
The voice came at him suddenly.
“It is an old method for catching large game,” Goblin Slayer replied.
The elf with the shining helmet was there, having arrived as suddenly and silently as the wind. He had one of the huge elvish bows slung across his back, and at his hip a bundle of ropes that appeared to be made from vines.
“You entangle its feet and let the quarry do the rest. To think, you had such a thing prepared ahead of time.”
“I had heard talk of this ‘elephant’ already, after all.”
“…I’m sorry?”
The elf bent down next to Goblin Slayer, but Goblin Slayer hardly even looked at him. “Are there other villages deeper in? Including any belonging to non-elves?”
“No, there are no other villages. Even the medicine men who come from the city stop at the borders of the forest. Not that there have been many of them recently…” The elf put a thoughtful hand to his chin. “Once in a while, adventurers travel here seeking special herbs or the pelt of some monster in order to craft something, but… Well, they don’t come back out.”
“I see,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod; he took the knife in his hand and put it in his belt at his hip. “…I see.”
“I don’t believe I ever got a proper answer.”
“My father was the chief huntsman of my village,” Goblin Slayer said with a shake of his head, not even looking at the elf. “That’s all.”
Shortly after, the last rays of the sinking sun disappeared below the horizon. In their place, the twin moons twinkled faintly down on the forest.
§
The meeting went on and on.
Elves had practically endless life spans; how could one of their councils not run long?
People of great age gathered, sat in a circle, and there, beneath the light of the sea sparkles, they discussed the future of the village.
They spoke of the rampage of the god-beast, Mokele Mubenbe. Of the terrible disrespect of entrapping it.
There was the goblin horde that had appeared nearby. Was it not the way of the world for goblins to be numerous?
There was the fact that the goblins had attacked boats and adventurers. The elves would not want the humans to come and make trouble in the forest.
Then what of the fact that the goblins had been riding on the god-beast? Did the little devils possess such courage?
Each proposition invited rebuttal: What if we did this? Why not do that? The suggestions piled up.
Let us be clear: the elves were no fools. Elves are the wisest of races, perhaps more intelligent than any in the four corners of the world. All the more reason, then, that they like to consider every possibility and perspective before acting.
They are aware of the foolishness of the mob mentality, everyone heading mindlessly in the same direction.
Perhaps they should take some special measure against the goblins, but then again, perhaps their fears were unfounded.
It was clear that something nefarious was happening, because at the very least, someone had provided the goblins with resources.
Was it an attack by other Non-Prayer Characters, or perhaps a squabble among the humans?
The answers to such questions often led to unprecedented threat and menace.
Humans threw a rock in the water and saw the ripples, but elves saw where the ripples went. Humans could hardly think ten years into the future, but an elf could easily contemplate a century, a millennium yet to come.
Humans mocked them for this, said it made the elves slow to act, cowardly, even stupid—but this was itself a sign of human arrogance.
And so what amounted to a brainstorming session went on.
High Elf Archer, who had scant patience for such things, excused herself quickly.
Basking in the night air, she gave a great yawn.
There was a branch of the vast tree. She jumped from the balcony of their guest room, walked to the end of it.
She savored the sound of the rustling leaves, letting her thoughts run to the ends of the clouds as she gazed up at the stars and the two moons.
This had to be one of the best places for simply lying back and enjoying all that the world had to offer.
I know what he’s going to say anyway, so what’s the point of talking?
However the elves’ council turned out, she knew full well where Orcbolg would be going. Goblins, goblins, goblins, goblins.
She was the deserter who had fled her forest, the delinquent who in her youth had fired an arrow at the god-beast. She had no obligation to obey the council of elders. Surely. Probably. She thought.
High Elf Archer smiled at the idea, watching a bird that had come flying up even though it was night.
Whereupon…
“Atana.” My dear one.
She heard a voice like music, even though not a leaf or branch had been disturbed. The voice was even, not scolding, but High Elf Archer quickly let go of the bird, to whose leg she had tied a small tube.
It flapped away noisily, after which it disappeared into the window of the hall where the council was being held.
“Ettobo ni norokotan nokatamu. Ianachisafu.” Climbing in the trees again? You’re hopeless.
“Ara, iana yujuretto bonettadasen.” Oh? And yet, here you are, dear older sister.
High Elf Archer tilted her head all the way back so as to peek at the other elf and smirked. The rich silver dress covering the generous body filled her upside-down vision. Her sister walked noiselessly along the branch; High Elf Archer righted herself with an easy movement.
“Onii, etsuka nedigiaku?” Shouldn’t you be at the council?
“Awachisesakamo, inatagamashijo.” I’ll let the old men handle things.
The elf with the flower crown shook her head elegantly, a melancholy expression on her face.
It was obvious that she, too, had escaped the council. She was the chief’s daughter, a princess of the elves, and yet, even she was still too young to be allowed to speak in council.
For the elve
s, seniority was immutable. All the more reason to watch how mortals behaved before passing judgment upon them.
“…Iromutsuki?” Do you mean to go?
“Oisedianekoettsuo?” I can hardly ignore the issue, can I?
It wasn’t clear whether she meant the goblins, or Goblin Slayer. Even if her sister had ventured to ask, most likely High Elf Archer would have smiled ambiguously and not bothered to answer. Maybe she herself didn’t know the answer.
“……Onuriettakau?” Do you understand?
That was exactly why the elf with the flower crown had to ask.
She didn’t understand what her little sister was thinking, what had driven her to become an adventurer. Even a high elf could not read the mind of another.
“Hito nio numuuuya, oyoniakijimu.” Human lives are short.
The branch didn’t quiver as she walked, as if she were herself a part of the great tree. As if she were a blossom springing forth from it.
“Uamisetiku, inuoyukatatamagisofu.” Like twinkling stars, they soon wink out.
The elf gestured to the star-spattered night sky as she spoke. The glittering heavens were so far away, unreachable. The gateway of the rains. Home of Phlogiston, the burning wind.
The younger sister chuckled at the elder’s gesture, which was almost as if she were trying to grasp what could not be reached, and then the younger sister stretched her own hand out toward the sky.
“Oyonuriettakau, amaseen.” I understand, Elder Sister.
High Elf Archer made a brief circle in the air with one pale finger.
“So I think…,” she said musically, switching to the common tongue.
Why were elves always so conscious of beauty? Was it a mark of grace? Or was it precisely because this girl had fled the forest, unable to be contained within the framework of her people?
“Maybe his life will last another fifty years, sixty, seventy. I don’t know. It might end tomorrow.” In the moonlight, her smile made her seem so young as to appear cherubic, innocent. “So why not stay with him? I have the time to spare.”
It would be like the drinking of a single cup of wine.