by Kumo Kagyu
“I’d be willing to guess the other bridges are in more or less the same condition.”
“Then, we jump,” Goblin Slayer said without hesitation. “First one over carries a rope. A lifeline.”
“I—I have a rope,” Priestess said gallantly and pulled a coil of rope, complete with grappling hook, out of her bag.
It was just like her that it should be neatly rolled up. And it was a testament to her real strength that it appeared never to have been used.
“Ah, the Adventurer’s Toolkit,” High Elf Archer said fondly as she narrowed her eyes and peeked into Priestess’s bag.
It was a bit of equipment aimed at novice adventurers, containing everything they might need on the job. Rope with grappling hook, several lengths of chain, and a mallet. Tinderbox. Backpack and waterskin. Eating utensils, chalk, a dagger, etc.
“You’d be surprised how useless most of that stuff is. Grappling hook excepted.”
“But when you go adventuring, you shouldn’t leave without them.”
“Huh,” High Elf Archer breathed, then grabbed the end of the rope that didn’t have a hook. She took one or two steps back, then ran as lightly as a deer.
“So, Orcbolg.”
She leaped and landed on the far side without a sound, then tied the rope to one of her arrows and stuck it in between the flagstones.
“What about that Gate scroll? You learn that from someone, too?”
“I heard once of someone who tried to use Gate to go to a sunken ruin, and the water killed them.”
That woman—that is, Witch back at the Adventurers Guild—must have told him the story.
At a signal from High Elf Archer, Goblin Slayer grabbed the grappling hook and jumped across. He made a heavy, dull sound on landing, as one might expect from a person in full armor.
“Impressive,” he said as he handed the hook back to High Elf Archer, who tossed it back to the far side.
“You really will do anything to kill goblins, won’t you?”
“Of course,” was all he said.
He must have decided the interview was over, because he fell silent and began looking all around the hall.
“Can you jump, lass? I’ll be getting Scaly’s help myself…”
“Oh, right. Well, um, I’m next, I guess.”
At the urging of Dwarf Shaman, Priestess, who had been gazing around somewhat vacantly, hurriedly picked up the hook. She stepped back for a running start, then jumped across with a little shout, her expression darkening just a bit.
He set traps and killed children without hesitation; he was clever and merciless. To her, he looked very much like a goblin. Maybe he knew that better than anyone.
No doubt one day he, too, will disappear.
The thick, honeyed voice came unbidden to her mind, ran through it like a river before slowly fading away.
Their investigation of the sewers went more smoothly than it had the day before. This was partly because they had a better grasp of the pathways, but more than that, they had changed their philosophy.
Goblin Slayer had determined to completely avoid any encounters with goblins. He walked with his unconcerned stride, holding the torch and sneaking along like a cat. High Elf Archer seemed to be taking after him; her footfalls were as light as a feather. Sometimes they would slip past goblin patrols; at others, they chose routes with no goblins.
Priestess, Dwarf Shaman, and Lizard Priest followed after them through the hallways.
“I never thought I’d see the day when you would let a goblin go, Orcbolg,” High Elf Archer whispered.
“I am not letting them go,” he replied, pressing himself against the wall and peeking around a corner. “First, we cut off the head. We slaughter the rest after that.”
“I wonder if it’s another goblin lord or ogre,” Priestess murmured anxiously, but Goblin Slayer only shook his head and said, “I don’t know.”
Goblins were at the bottom of the monster hierarchy. Almost any kind of creature might be leading them. A dark elf, some kind of demon, even a dragon…
“I suppose it will do us no good to stand here wondering about it.” Lizard Priest took the folded-up map from his bag and opened it nimbly with his claws. Thanks to his excellent night vision, inherited from his forebears, he could read it even without a light.
“I should think we have not yet glimpsed even the shadow of the tail of the one who is behind this.”
“What you mean,” said Dwarf Shaman, “is that we’ve got to keep heading farther in.”
“Farther upriver, to be precise.” Goblin Slayer had stood and was holding the torch over the map to read it. He traced a path with one leather-gloved finger. It followed the waterway up, past the site of their random battle the previous day.
“Their boats came from farther up the river of sewage. It’s safe to assume they have a base somewhere in that direction.”
“If we keep going upriver…that means we’ll end up off this map, right?” Priestess’s white finger followed Goblin Slayer’s along the paper.
The map Sword Maiden had given them was only of the city sewers, after all. It showed only a fraction of the vast ruins that sprawled beneath the water town.
“Will we be all right?”
“We won’t do anything foolish.”
Priestess adjusted her grip on her staff, unable to calm herself, but Goblin Slayer was decisive.
It wasn’t clear whether that was out of consideration for her. But at the sight of his unchanging countenance, Priestess’s tense cheeks relaxed, and she smiled.
“Right, that’s right. Let’s not do anything foolish or silly.”
She held her staff firmly, forced her knees not to shake, and looked ahead.
“Upriver, huh? That’ll be this way.” High Elf Archer went on, ears bouncing, without a moment’s reluctance, and the rest of the party followed.
A short while later, just as they reached the very edge of their map, the air changed noticeably. The simple stone hall gave onto a gallery covered in wall paintings. The moss-covered pavement became cracked marble. Even the water went from polluted to clear. This was obviously not a sewer anymore.
“There are traces of soot here.”
Goblin Slayer, studying the wall paintings intently, held the torch aloft and pointed at a spot near the ceiling.
High Elf Archer stood on her tiptoes to get a look.
“You mean there used to be lights?”
“A very long time ago.” Goblin Slayer nodded, wiping a bit of soot from his finger. “Goblins have excellent night vision. They don’t use lights.”
“Hmm…”
Lizard Priest leaned toward the wall and gave one of the paintings a thoughtful scratch with his claw. Humans, elves, dwarves, rheas, lizardmen, beastmen—every race who had words was depicted in full equipment, the old and the young, men and women.
“Warriors or soldiers…no.”
Their outfits were not uniform enough to be soldiers. Mercenaries, perhaps, or…
“Adventurers.”
“I have heard it used to be quite lively around these parts,” Dwarf Shaman said, standing to one side and following the brushstrokes closely with his eyes. The paint, weathered over many long years, flaked off at the slightest touch. “This style of painting hasn’t been current for four, five hundred years now.”
“Oh,” said Priestess, looking up and around, “could this be…”
The carefully constructed gallery. The painted figures. The clear water. It felt much like a place she knew very well. Tranquil, quiet—not to be trespassed upon. Not a temple…
“…a graveyard, perhaps?”
Catacombs.
That’s what this was; she was convinced. She brushed the paintings—the people—with her delicate hand. They were those who had fought on the side of order in the Age of the Gods—and this was their resting place. She sank to her knees in mourning for all those who had come before and clung to her staff.
High Elf Archer stood above
Priestess as she prayed for the repose of these souls, as if guarding her. Her shoulders slumped.
“It’s a goblin nest now.”
Her words evoked a twinge of sorrow as they echoed for a moment and then faded away. For the elves, who lived thousands of years, even the Age of the Gods did not seem so long ago. Or perhaps she was moved to be standing amid the graves of the warriors her mother and father had told her about in stories.
“‘Even the brave are at last brought low,’ huh…?”
“That doesn’t matter now.”
Goblin Slayer cut off the girls’ somber ruminations. He quickly scanned the area, and when he was satisfied there was no immediate threat of goblins, he set off at a brisk trot.
The reaction was very much like him. High Elf Archer and Priestess looked at each other.
“What do you think about that?”
“I guess…he’s still our Goblin Slayer.”
Priestess’s reply was a mixture of resignation and fondness.
High Elf Archer stood gracefully and walked after the warrior; Priestess scurried behind them both.
“Hrm. No one ever accused Beard-cutter of excessive patience.” Dwarf Shaman followed next with a huff. “You’ll probably scare those little devils off just by showing up.”
“That would be a problem,” Goblin Slayer said quietly. “I hate it when they run.”
The party smiled wanly at his overly serious response, and the adventure was back underway—into the catacombs.
Everything about the architecture here was different from the sewers. The path twisted confusingly, turning back on itself, branching off, like a maze. From above, the catacombs might have appeared like a spider’s web.
“They must be built like this to confuse any monsters that wander in, keep them from disturbing the dead warriors,” Dwarf Shaman explained with an impressed whistle. Even the dwarves’ best stonemasons would not have found it a simple matter to create halls like these. “To wander this place as a lost spirit…that’d be a cruel fate.”
“Yes, for it removes one from the round of death and rebirth,” Lizard Priest said. “But this place has already fallen into the hands of the goblins.”
There was no doubting the place had become a seedbed for chaos.
“Above all…,” muttered Lizard Priest, adding a few strokes of charcoal to the sheepskin paper, “the drawing of a map cannot be done halfheartedly. Each of us must remain vigilant.”
“Well, this room first, I guess.”
Holding her staff with both hands, Priestess looked up at the thick, heavy door. It was the ebony of the night sky, worked with a border of gold, and it seemed to defy the flow of time. Miraculously for being in such a damp place, the door showed no sign of rot or wear. It was clearly enchanted with some age-old magic. Other than a touch of rust around the keyhole, there was not a scratch on it.
“It’s not locked,” High Elf Archer said. “And there don’t seem to be any traps—at least not on the door itself.” She finished inspecting the keyhole, nodded slightly, and stepped to the side. “This isn’t my specialty, though. So don’t blame me if things go wrong.”
“Here goes,” Goblin Slayer declared, then kicked in the door of the burial chamber.
The adventurers tumbled into the room like an avalanche.
Once they were all inside, Dwarf Shaman pounded a wedge under the door to hold it open. He always kept the tool on hand against any unexpected situations, and the easy way he used it suggested long familiarity.
Lizard Priest kept his weapon up to protect Dwarf Shaman from any ambush. While the dwarf worked, it was High Elf Archer’s job to search the room.
The burial chamber was about ten feet square, floored with nine tiles in rows of three. High Elf Archer spun around to scan the room, an arrow ready in her bow…
“Look at that!”
“How awful…!”
High Elf Archer and Priestess both swallowed heavily, expressions of open disgust on their faces.
The room was empty save for several stone coffins. In the center, a shape came into view in the faint light of the torch. Someone was tied up, spread-eagled as if to deliberately expose them.
The shape appeared to be a human figure, head hung in exhaustion—a woman with long hair. She wore faded metal armor. Perhaps she was one of the adventurers who had gone before them and had not returned.
“Goblin Slayer, sir!”
“No other choice…”
With Goblin Slayer’s permission, Priestess ran up to the captive woman.
She knelt and asked, “Hello? Hello? Are you all right?” There was no answer.
The woman didn’t even look in Priestess’s direction. Her head simply hung there.
Had she lost all strength? Or was she…?
“…! I—I’ll try to heal you…!”
Priestess pushed aside her fears of the worst and began to pray to the Earth Mother for healing.
“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, lay your revered hand upon—”
With a soft swish, the woman’s hair fell to the ground, right in front of Priestess as she raised her hands to invoke the miracle.
Empty eyes stared up at her.
It was a person.
Was.
A dusty skeleton, dressed in the skin of a woman who had presumably been flayed alive.
“It’s wrong! This…this is all wrong!”
Priestess gave a choked scream.
At the same instant, the entryway sealed with a crash.
The wedge clattered across the floor, mocking them.
“Hrr—!”
Lizard Priest immediately charged the door with his shoulder, but it didn’t budge.
“This is trouble! I think the door has been barred!”
“Come here, Scaly! Maybe you and I together…!”
Lizard Priest and Dwarf Shaman slammed into the door with all their might. It groaned, but didn’t give. It showed no sign of opening at all.
“GROOROOROROB!!”
“GORB!! GORRRRB!!”
Cackling voices echoed from the other side of the stone wall, mocking the adventurers’ futile struggles.
High Elf Archer bit her lip.
“Goblins…!”
“So they got us,” Goblin Slayer spat in annoyance.
They should have expected it. The goblins could hardly miss a party of adventurers trespassing in their home.
Cornering cautious prey was difficult. It was much easier to ambush them—to set a trap. The goblins knew no adventurer would leave a woman in trouble.
Every once in a while, all the cruel wit in their little heads could outfox even a human. This, along with their fertility, was what had allowed them to survive for so long.
“No…!”
They were trapped. The reality of it rendered Priestess speechless. Her knees shook, her teeth chattered, and she thought her legs might give out. The tragedy of that first adventure sprang to life in her mind.
“Calm down.”
The rebuke was as dispassionate as ever. It wasn’t meant to support her in her fear, but break through it. She nodded fiercely, as if clinging to his words. Her face was pale, and something gleamed at the corners of her eyes. If he hadn’t been there or if she had been alone, she surely would have fainted.
And that would have meant death—or something far worse.
But beside her stood Goblin Slayer, his guard up, his weapon at the ready.
“We’re still alive.”
The canary began to twitter noisily.
“Gas!”
No one was sure who said it first.
“GROB! GORRB!!”
“GROOROB! GORRRB!!”
The tweeting of the canary mingled with the screeching laughter of the goblins on the other side of the door.
A white mist had begun to seep into the room through several holes that had been bored in the walls. The adventurers packed into the center of the burial chamber as though surrounded. They were certainly in di
re straits.
“We’re in trouble now. They’ll finish us all in one fell swoop.”
“Not all gas is deadly… But I’m sure it means us nothing good, whatever the case.”
Lizard Priest clucked his tongue, and Dwarf Shaman groaned and wiped sweat from his brow. His eyes had happened upon the awful skeleton in the woman’s skin.
Looking all around the room in desperation, hoping to find an escape route, High Elf Archer gave a cry.
“It’s no good! There’s no other way out!”
“What…are we going…to do, Goblin Slayer, sir…?”
Priestess still had not received the Cure miracle, which could neutralize poison, and even its effects would only last for a short while. When it wore off, that would be the end. With no idea how long the gas would keep coming, all she could do was to buy them a little time.
Priestess looked imploringly at Goblin Slayer, her eyes bright with tears.
He made no response.
“Goblin Slayer? Sir?”
“……”
He was rummaging silently in his bag.
As Priestess watched, he pulled out a black mass and thrust it at her.
“Wrap this in a hand cloth, and put it over your mouth and nose.”
“Is this—charcoal?”
“It will protect you somewhat from poisonous gas. If you have any medicinal herbs with you, put them in the cloth, too. Quickly, if you don’t want to die.”
“Yes, sir!”
Priestess hurriedly took the charcoal and sat down in place to dig through her own items. When she had pulled out six clean hand cloths, she found a scaled arm reaching over from beside her.
“Let me help you. Toxic vapors do not much affect me.”
“Th-thank you…!”
The two of them quickly began to wrap charcoal and herbs in each of the cloths, making simple gas masks. Priestess continued to prepare cloths for her companions as Lizard Priest wrapped one around her face.
“Goblin Slayer, sir!”
“Thanks.”
“Here, take these, too…!”
Two gas masks, one made with a larger cloth. He seemed to guess what she had in mind; he immediately wrapped the large cloth around the birdcage. Then, he pushed his own mask through the visor of his helmet and began digging through his bag again. It was full of objects none of the others could identify.
