Goblin Slayer, Vol. 7

by Kumo Kagyu

  But the girl, high in the air, only curled up the corners of her lips in a cute but unexpected smile.

  “Daaaawn STRIKE!!”

  Sun explosion!

  The sacred blade in her hand released a flash of emerald light, ruthlessly scything down the monsters all around. The horde of Rock Eaters, leaning eagerly forward for a bite of the young woman, was torn apart in the blink of an eye. Blood and fluids that might have stained the girl’s black hair were burned away by the heat of the emerald flash.

  The girl had refused to so much as flinch in the face of all hell’s demons, and indeed, she stood unscathed.

  The hero spun in the air, landing lightly on a rocky outcropping with fist upraised, as she shouted, “It’s your doom, hellions, your doom!” Then she leveled her holy sword at the monsters, weaving a complex sigil with her left hand. “Carbunculus…Crescunt…Iacta!!”

  A sphere of flame formed with a roar and went flying, followed by a second, then a third. As charred demon corpses soared through the air, the hero exclaimed, “I’m happy to keep dishing it out—how much longer do you need?!”

  “Just…a little longer, I think!”

  The answering voice came from within the mass of demons.

  The hero gripped her sacred blade with both hands, striking a fighting pose as if to say that any who dared come near would be cut down.

  And in fact, that was exactly what happened to any who dared.

  The demons shifted, trying to find an advantageous position, but an instant later, their heads went flying. No true, experienced warrior would let a good attack of opportunity go to waste. She ducked away from her enemies’ assaults so fast that you would miss it if you blinked, then she thrust her sword through an oncoming opponent. Her fighting was brutal, utilitarian—but that demonstrated exactly how skilled she was.

  She was protecting a mage—a woman carrying a large staff and concentrating hard. The woman, Sage, now opened one of her eyes, looking at the rocks high above them.

  “…The flow of the water above us has changed. It seems our opponent’s magic circle has been broken.”

  “Huh. I wonder if there are some other adventurers up there.” The hero fried a few of the smaller monsters with another spell then jumped in among them.

  The gates of hell are nearly open.

  Such had been the warning left to them, carved into a clay tablet by mages who had lived nearly in the Age of the Gods.

  These wizards had been researching the Gate spell, but they had made a terrible mistake. They had opened a Gate to a place that should have been left closed forever: hell itself. They had immediately sealed it shut, but it was only a matter of time until it opened again. They had predicted the very year and day when it would do so…

  And it happened to be right when I was around. Is that good luck or bad for me?

  The hero ran straight ahead, never looking back.

  She had tried studying, but she was under no illusions that she could ever really grasp the deep logic of the world. She had sat reading thick books of principles and rules, but they only made her head hurt.

  Hence, it would be up to Sage to seal the Gate shut. She herself complained that she had not yet reached the apogee, yet she was so stalwart…

  “Maybe the elves…?”

  “I wonder. They do drag their feet—maybe that’s why their hands are so fast.”

  “…Elves can wind up striking a fatal blow at a time and place you never expect.”

  “For all my learning, I’ll never understand them,” Sage murmured, and the hero knew Sage had learned more than any of them.

  As for herself, she just swung her sword and let the weapon do the spell-weaving.

  The hero was taken once more by the absolute conviction that every corner of this world was amazing. And not because she was strong or because she was a hero. Absolutely not. Could a simple fact like that change the value of the world?

  She had friends, a hometown, favorite things. The sky was stunning, and she could even see a rainbow.

  “Hah, it’s all good! There’s one way to solve this problem—slice these guys up!”

  All the more reason she couldn’t let these monsters have it.

  She booted aside a lesser demon and found herself face-to-face with a bizarre spider creature. The gigantic monster was obviously a leader among the demons.

  It was a fearsome beast; its metal legs could easily run her through.

  The cynical observer might say that it was her job to fight opponents like that because she was the hero.

  Pfft. Hardly.

  She donned a wild smile, showing all her teeth. She looked like a shark after its prey.

  Sage would have the Gate shut in a moment. Until then, she would fight to keep the world from these monsters; she wouldn’t cede it to them even for an instant.

  If she and her friends were the only ones who knew why she fought for the world, that was enough.

  “Here—we—goooooo!!”

  The hero leaped in, bellowing and landing what was (if she might say so) a critical hit.

  “Now then, I request both of you to speak the words of the covenant,” intoned an elf with his head bowed somberly before a dais. He was an elven elder, many long years old and yet still young.

  Fireflies or some such luminescent insect floated around, providing light for the great hall full of elves and adventurers. They sat cross-legged on the ground. Food and fruits were served on leaf-plates, wine in large nuts. The dais the crowd focused on was actually an upraised tree root.

  Upon it stood the bride and groom, dressed in garments of sheer silk and flowers, shimmering with the wings of butterflies and dragonflies. They shared a shy glance then gently took each other’s hands.

  “Usamiakitowotoku riinomochinneie inoyurunahowo chihionokahisatawa!” the elf with the shining helmet said proudly.

  His bride replied, looking at the ground and blushing, “Usamiakitowotoku oshiroyuinawoto isototowo chihonokahisatawa.”

  Their words, almost musical, drifted up to the great tree, which shook its branches in response, leaves hovering in the night.

  Fssh, fssh. The forest was laughing. The trees were singing. May your lives be blessed. May the span of your days be full of happiness.

  “You have heard the jubilation of the forest?” the priest asked, stepping forward gracefully. The man and the woman looked at each other happily and nodded.

  “Mm.”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “Then offer the response.” The priest passed them a large bow and an arrow. The bow was of yew wood and the arrow bud-tipped, made especially for this day. The elf with the shining headpiece took the bow, and the princess with the flower crown the arrow.

  The priest bowed deeply and retreated; the two elves drew near to each other, almost in an embrace, and readied the bow.

  The wife nocked the arrow into the bow the husband held up, and then together, they drew the string.

  They aimed at the heavens, at the night sky where the moons and stars glittered.

  The leaves that formed the ceiling of the hall, everyone saw, had opened the path in one spot, a small passage. Beyond, the night sky flashed and twinkled like a box of jewels. If the stars were indeed the eyes of the gods, there could be no greater blessing in all the world.

  The arrow flew from the bowstring with a musical twang. The bud-tipped arrow shot into the sky like a shooting star in reverse, and they didn’t see it come down.

  Wherever the arrow landed, a new tree would emerge, and grow, one day to become a member of the forest.

  “The covenant is hereby completed!” the priest announced.

  The forest, and the people of the forest, and the gods had all together acknowledged this marriage and blessed it.

  “This eve shall be long remembered as the Night of the Rainbow-Clad Moon!”

  The whole crowd of elves broke out in cheering and applause.

  Love is destiny

  destiny is death
<
br />   Even a knight who serves a maiden

  will one day fall into death’s clutches

  Even the prince who befriends a Sky Drake

  must leave the woman he fancies behind

  The mercenary who loved a cleric

  will fall in battle pursuing his dream

  And the king who loved the shrine maiden

  controls all but the hour of their separation

  The end of life

  is not the last chapter of an heroic saga

  So the adventure called life

  will continue to the very end

  Friendship and love

  life and death

  From these things

  we cannot escape

  Therefore what have we

  to fear

  Love is destiny

  and our destiny is death

  Then the elves produced harps and drums, and everyone took up a lively song.

  The people of the forest have always loved music and dancing, and they enjoy whatever is pleasant. Their lives are too long to simply kill time to pass the days. They may be old of heart, they may take the very long view, but many are the days on the elf calendar that serve as a pretext for celebration.

  A wedding was a perfect example: they celebrated both the union of two young elves, and the fact that there would be one less day with nothing happening.

  What day is there in this world that is not special? All people were special; this night was special. A hundred years from now, it would still be special and would remain so for all eternity.

  Even Dwarf Shaman was surrounded by young (albeit all older than him) elves.

  “So what did you do when you fell into the goblins’ trap?”

  “Er, ahem. Well, me and Long-Ears—I mean, the princess there, we ginned up this hole full of poison gas…”

  “This indescribable eyeball monster sounds positively terrifying!”

  “Well, ah, you know. It was more…well, strange. And it made a very odd noise.”

  “It sounds like our princess has been real trouble for you. I’m so—”

  “Oh— Oh, don’t be. Look, she certainly has her moments…”

  These youngsters were well aware of the ancient antagonism between their people and the dwarves, but more than likely, this was the first time any of them had ever seen a dwarf up close. Let alone an adventuring one!

  Surrounded by elves on every side, Dwarf Shaman’s head was practically spinning as he was pelted with requests for stories of adventure and more besides. And the wine the elves served was too weak for him; he couldn’t even get properly drunk on it. At last, he raised his stubby arms and shouted, “Heyyy, Scaly! Give me a hand over here!”

  And what was Lizard Priest up to when Dwarf Shaman summoned him? He was in a corner of the banquet hall, smacking his lips delightedly. He wolfed down some steamed insects, chugged wine by the cupful, and as soon as he held an orange in his hand, it vanished wholesale into his mouth.

  A crowd of elfwives stood watching him eat with astonishment.

  “Come now,” Lizard Priest said. “I’m no herbivore, but I’m happy to eat whatever—ah, what seems to be the matter, master spell caster?”

  “I can’t handle this many of ’em all by my lonesome!”

  “Well, then.” Lizard Priest heaved himself to his feet and shuffled his way among the elves to reinforce his companion. He plopped down in the circle with the elves and the dwarf and announced, “Say, my forest friends. Perhaps you’d like to hear the tale of the lizard hero, a creature with great black scales who could summon storms.”

  “Oh yeah, I know him!” one of the somewhat older elves said, raising a hand. “I’ve met him.”

  Lizard Priest rolled his eyes. “Ha-ha-ha-ha. Then you will enjoy learning the differences between the history of a thousand and a hundred years ago, and the legend that has been told since then.”

  Just when the first drop fell on the first leaf, to declare the coming of the season of rain

  King Jigagei Urogilv, King Red Cloud, and Maaka Waata, Sweet Wind, were joined

  After the laying of their egg, the pleasure-woman Hehaka Saba, Black Deer, became with child

  The child of destiny, who would be abandoned, who would crawl from a shattered shell

  With scales of shadow: one day to breathe blue flame; a child of destiny, to be revered by even his brother naga

  The name of he who would one day sink his teeth into the throat of the Demon Lord was Ehena Ulno, Stormbringer…

  The elves oohed and ahhed at the unique way lizardmen sang, with the voice rumbling from deep in the throat. Even the new couple upon the dais were impressed, though they were more restrained in their appreciation than the others. The groom was holding the hand of the bride, and she was looking at the ground, red up to her ears.

  “Man, Sis is actually embarrassed!” High Elf Archer laughed from her place beside a knot that got plenty of night breeze. Slim and pale, she was clad in a sparkling dress of translucent white cloth. Silk, perhaps. Elves were experts when it came to the handling of insects.

  Smiling, a wine cup in her hand and the night breeze caressing her hair, she almost seemed to be floating. Goblin Slayer had heard a word, wallflower, that he thought was somehow appropriate for her.

  “Don’t you want to join them?” he asked, coming over to her from the banquet.

  “Hmm?”

  This was the same elf who had exploded at the elders the moment she got home while demanding to know why they hadn’t told her. Now, with a flush of alcohol in her cheeks and a quizzical look on her face, she seemed an entirely different person.

  Goblin Slayer’s mind flashed to the fairy stories he’d heard as a child as he continued, “…This is your home.”

  High Elf Archer seemed to catch his meaning. “Aww, it’s fine, really,” she said with a wave of her hand, taking a demure sip of her wine. “For us… To put it in human terms, it’s like I was only away for a few days.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Besides, Sis promised to write me a letter when things settle down.” Wouldn’t want to intrude on the happy young couple, right? High Elf Archer puffed out her modest chest almost boastfully.

  Come to think of it.

  A scene from the water town flashed through her mind. She remembered him writing a letter.

  “How about you write a letter yourself?” she said thoughtfully. This man never went anywhere but the farm and the Guild and various caves, always muttering about goblins. “You never go home, do you?”

  “I can’t imagine anyone would read it.” He almost sounded like he was laughing. The helmet turned gently left and right. “…I’m not a very good younger brother. Not me.”

  “You really think so?” High Elf Archer arched an eyebrow then made a circle in the air with one white finger. “I think you’re doing well, you know? I mean, you made Silver, didn’t you?”

  “Is that so?” Goblin Slayer repeated then nodded. “Is that so…?”

  “You really need to expand your vocabulary, Orcbolg,” High Elf Archer giggled. Then she stepped away from the window with a movement like she was dancing.

  “You’re going?”

  “Girls have their own pleasures.”

  “I…,” Goblin Slayer whispered.

  High Elf Archer stopped when she heard him. She looked back questioningly, but Goblin Slayer stood silently by himself.

  She decided to wait. Elves had nothing but time.

  After a moment, he seemed to have finally found the words. “I am glad your sister was able to marry.”

  They were the flattest, most unremarkable, most disinterested words of congratulations she’d ever heard. Yet High Elf Archer’s eyes widened and her ears flicked.

  “…Thanks.”

  She found herself feeling oddly embarrassed and rushed toward the bustle of the party. She had never expected Orcbolg to say such a thing. She didn’t think he was capable of it.

  Her footsteps felt ligh
ter than air, but her sharp eyes would never miss her quarry.

  She reached out her arm with an agility only an elf possessed, entwining it with another slim limb.

  “Oh…”

  It was the arm of Priestess, who had been leaning vacantly against the wall. The elves had offered her a dress and clothing, but she had refused, saying her vestments were her proper attire.

  “C’mon, what’s the matter? You look unhappy.”

  “No…,” Priestess said, glancing down, her face drawn. “Not… Not really.”

  “You’re a terrible liar.”

  “Aww…”

  An instant later, High Elf Archer’s finger was an inch from Priestess’s nose. “Look, better to talk about anything at all than to keep everything bottled up inside. This is a time for celebration.”

  “Um…” Priestess felt tears beading at the corners of her eyes as she focused on that finger just in front of her nose. “Okay… That prayer earlier…what did it mean?”

  “Oh, that?” High Elf Archer laughed. “Nothing really important. Just a promise to be together always.”

  I take this person to wife and vow to be with her into eternity.

  I take this person as my husband and vow to cleave to him forever.

  “’Course, that’s ‘always’ in elf terms.” High Elf Archer winked then tugged on Priestess’s sleeve. “Hey, say a prayer.”

  “A prayer? Me?”

  “Yeah. To your Earth Mother. We elves owe her something, too, you know.”

  The very request pained Priestess.

  I…

  Was she even still fit to pray to the goddess? She had offered supplication at every moment since her youngest days, and even in her battles with goblins, she had stopped short of crossing that final line.

  But at the fortress, she had finally done it: she had used a miracle of the Earth Mother to directly harm another being.