by Ryo Mizuno
“You mean Valis is dominating?” Woodchuck asked.
“Probably…” Etoh replied.
“Valis must be winning,” Parn said without even turning back.
Something up ahead caught Woodchuck’s eye. “Heads up!” he called, squinting into the distance. “There’s something coming!”
Tension gripped the entire group, but Slayn said, “Let’s keep going—they’ll be suspicious if we act strangely.”
“True,” Parn replied, straining to see. There was a cloud of dust—riders on horseback and one carriage. Heat radiating from the road shimmered and distorted the outlines, but it looked like a merchant caravan. Or was it part of the Valis army’s supply lines?
The group tried to stay calm as they pushed forward. Nobody said a word—just kept their pace steady and watched the oncoming group.
“Lady Karla, there are people up ahead,” a nervous voice interrupted Karla’s meditations. She opened her eyes and raised the carriage’s sunshade.
“Hm?” she asked, and one of the mercenaries surrounding the carriage moved closer.
“There’s a group on foot coming this way. They appear armed, but there’s a child with them.”
“A child? I’m not sure what that implies. They’re not Valis soldiers, then?”
“Probably not…”
“All right. As long as they don’t make a move, do nothing. But remain vigilant.”
Karla leaned back in her seat again, feeling the carriage sway beneath her. We’re so close, she thought with a sigh and a glance at the girl sitting beside her. The girl stared vacantly ahead, no sign of life in her gaze. Karla nodded, satisfied, and closed her eyes to ponder her next move.
The caravan drew closer and closer, moving at a brisk trot. Once he could see them clearly, Parn bristled at the warning signs—the fancy two-horse carriage was surrounded by seven horsemen in mismatched armor. While they were clearly mercenaries, it was also apparent that this wasn’t a merchant group, since the carriage was built for passengers and had very little space for luggage. The large guard implied that the passengers were nobles.
The mercenaries seemed strangely uncomfortable with the carriage they were flanking. “What do you think?” Parn asked so only Deedlit could hear.
“I don’t know… They’re a strange group—though, you could say the same about us…”
“True,” he replied with a smile and a glance at their bizarre mix of companions, then collected himself quickly as the tension of both groups washed over him. They were all on high alert, confused by each other’s appearances and ready to spring into action.
As the group on foot, Parn’s party stepped aside to allow the riders to pass.
“It’s getting hot out, yeah?” Woodchuck greeted the lead outrider as he passed. Parn was impressed—the exchange seemed to put the rider more at ease.
“Must be tough on foot,” another rider called back with a relieved smile.
“Tell me about it,” shrugged Woodchuck. He looked away, feigning disinterest. “Get going, already,” he muttered under his breath.
The carriage creaked by. As it passed their group, Slayn peeked out from under his hood. It was ornate, and he could just make out two figures inside—from their clothing, they seemed to be women.
Before he could see more, one of the riders moved to block his view, glowering at Slayn. Someone we’re not allowed to see? he wondered, now suspicious, and watched carefully as they passed.
“Don’t scare us like that,” Woodchuck spat after them once the other group was far enough away.
“That was weird. Don’t they know there’s a battlefield up ahead?” Parn said, stepping back on the road.
“I could see two figures inside the carriage. Women, I think,” Slayn said, still watching them move down the road.
“Women? Aw, I should’ve snuck a look,” Woodchuck joked. He started walking again, shrugging and seemingly unconcerned. The others fell back in line.
“It was odd that the rider moved to block my view,” Slayn muttered as he walked.
Ahead of him, Woodchuck threw up his hands in exasperation. “Again?!”
“What’s wrong?” Slayn asked. He’d put up his hood again to escape the relentless sun but raised his face to see what was happening.
Woodchuck simply pointed down the road. There was another cloud of dust—another group on horseback. Considering the size of the dust cloud and the thundering hooves, the group was moving fast.
“Looks like knights of Valis,” Woodchuck said—he had sharp eyes. “White horses and white armor. The only people that conspicuous are the Holy Knights.”
“Holy Knights of Valis?!” Parn shouted, straining his eyes toward the group. Though they were still far away, he could tell that the horses were white.
The gallant riders spurred their steeds elegantly onward, galloping through the countryside like a white gust of wind. Parn scrambled off the road.
He couldn’t totally hide the complicated feelings he felt toward those knights—both admiration and anger. He looked from their armor down to his own, which was time-worn and dingy, closer to brown than white but still the same shape. The center of the breastplate shone silver, a symbol of his father’s disgrace. He remembered what Moto, the owner of the general store back home, had said—and the shame he’d felt.
What hopes did my father pin on that white armor?
As they loomed larger in his field of view, the surge of emotion swept over him.
“What’s wrong?” Deedlit whispered close to his ear. The concerned tone of her voice soothed his worries.
“Nothing. It’s fine,” Parn turned to her with a gentle expression, then took a deep breath, head held high. He snapped to attention, facing the oncoming knights again.
The five knights came to a stop when they reached Parn. Slayn and Etoh bowed respectfully, and Parn gave a knight’s salute.
“Where did you come from?” one of the knights asked, stepping forward.
“We’re travelers from Alania,” Slayn responded, head still bowed. “We’re trying to escape the war in Kanon.”
“That’s right,” Woodchuck chimed in.
“You escaped from Kanon?” The knight seemed suspicious. “I can’t take you at your word. Excuse me…” He began whispering a prayer.
Slayn was impressed—as a Holy Knight, the man was highly skilled with a sword and could also perform the holy magic of Pharis. Slayn didn’t see it as a threat—any Pharis spell would be harmless.
But Etoh, who’d been standing respectfully beside him, glared sternly at the knight. “Casting holy magic unprovoked? It’s blasphemy to use your holy powers on people who haven’t threatened you in any way. I am Etoh, a priest of Pharos based out of the temple in Allan.”
“I wasn’t aware that one of your party was a Pharis priest. You’re right—I was overly hasty to rely on Pharis…but you’ve resolved our doubts. I apologize for the rudeness. We’ll be on our way…” the knight spurred his horse onward.
“Are you in a hurry because of the carriage that just passed by?” Slayn asked the knight.
“What?” The knight pulled abruptly on his reins, making the horse rear up and whinny in protest.
“We just saw a suspicious-seeming procession go by. Who were they?”
“That is a matter of national security—keep what you saw to yourselves.”
Slayn protested, but the knight ignored him and took off. The group whizzed by like pale lightning, leaving only a billowing dust cloud in their wake.
Parn watched them go. Once they disappeared from view, he turned to Slayn. “What was that?”
“It’s disconcerting,” the wizard said. “The caravan was so strange, and the knights were in such a hurry…”
“Maybe we should follow them,” Parn said.
“It’s not my decision to make—but if you want my opinion, I’d say we shouldn’t get involved.” Slayn kept his reply as emotionless as possible, but he doubted his words would have much
effect. Parn would always follow his heart.
“Those knights said it was a matter of national security. If it were about the caravan…” Parn folded his arms, deep in thought.
“Uh oh. Parn’s thinking—and he looks serious,” Ghim grumbled. “We might as well just accept it—we’re gonna be retracing our steps in this heat.” Without another word, he pulled his pack over his shoulder and started walking back the way they came.
“Well, that’s annoying,” Woodchuck said as he followed the dwarf. He turned back to Parn. “What are you waiting for? Even if the rest of us refused, you’d go anyway—right? So don’t waste your time thinking about it.”
“Sounds about right,” Deedlit said, trotting up to Parn and reaching a hand out to him. “Let’s just go. It’s not like you to mull over something this long.”
“What? Lies!” Parn protested, though he grabbed Deedlit’s hand as she passed. “I am a very thoughtful and serious man, I always think things through!”
“Sure you are,” Woodchuck laughed.
“We’d better hurry, or we’ll lose sight of them,” Slayn said, collecting himself. It was going to be a difficult march.
“I wish we had horses, too,” Deedlit commented from her spot at the head of their group. Her long hair flared out behind her, sparkling like a rainbow in the summer sun.
A little ways down the road, Deedlit stopped abruptly and cupped her hands around her pointy ears. “What was that?” she said, voice keen.
“What’s wrong?” Parn asked. He scanned their surroundings, but didn’t see anything amiss.
“Quiet,” Deedlit hushed him. “I can hear something from over there, but your armor’s too loud.”
Parn froze in place, not even daring to breathe. Elves were renowned for their hearing—it was said that they could pick out the faint rustle of a tiny animal stepping on fallen leaves.
“Sounds of combat—screaming, clanging metal. There’s no mistaking it.”
“The Holy Knights are fighting! We have to go!” Parn broke into a run, Deedlit close behind. “They must be fighting the caravan—the Holy Knights may be outnumbered, but I doubt mercenaries can beat them…”
“We don’t know that—let’s just hurry.”
“Right!”
“Don’t fall behind,” Deedlit said with a smirk as she danced out in front of him. She was quick and agile, and—with her light armor—far faster than him.
Parn’s heavy gear weighed him down, and soon Etoh, Slayn, and Woodchuck caught up. Ghim fell behind even further, jogging along on his short legs.
“Warn us first,” Etoh called out breathlessly.
“The Holy Knights are fighting!”
“We should see what’s really happening before jumping in,” gasped Slayn.
Deedlit had to pause for the others to catch up, jogging in place. The sounds of battle were much clearer now that they’d run all that way, and she could just barely make out the shifting shadows of a melee up ahead.
“There,” she muttered to herself and fixed her eyes on the shadows.
At that same moment, red light flared up, and a heartbeat later a resounding boom sounded, loud as an avalanche. Deedlit cried out in pain and dropped to the ground, covering her ears.
“What was that noise? And that red light?!” Parn called out as he sprinted to Deedlit’s side. He placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder but kept his eyes trained on the battle, careful not to miss a thing.
Slayn scowled as he caught up. “That light—I’m almost certain it was a fire spell.”
“Magic? But whose—the warriors guarding the carriage or the Valis Holy Knights?” Deedlit laid her hand unconsciously on Parn’s as she spoke, seeking out Slayn with her eyes.
“I have no idea. But that spell is dangerous. It’s forbidden by the Wizard Academy, and it can only be taught to a Master or the equivalent. I didn’t recognize any of the carriage guards or Holy Knights from the Academy—though I suppose one of them could have transformed their appearance. That said, wizards generally dislike using swords. I don’t know about Wagnard of Marmo, though.”
“Was Wagnard in the carriage, do you think?!” Parn cried.
“But weren’t there two women in the carriage?” Woodchuck said, frowning. “Is Wagnard a woman?”
“Hold on—the battle’s over.” Deedlit stood, still holding onto Parn’s hand. “I can’t hear the sound of combat anymore.”
“What?! Who won?”
“I obviously can’t tell that from sound alone. Hold on, I’ll ask the wind.”
“Wind? You mean Sylph?” Slayn said. “My farsight spell will give us more answers.”
“Wait, why didn’t you use that in the first place?” Woodchuck asked exasperatedly. “Why save it?!”
“Seriously,” agreed Ghim, finally catching up.
“Magic shouldn’t be used indiscriminately,” Slayn said, then he controlled his breathing and slowly began to chant in the ancient language.
2
Slayn’s spell rang on quietly.
The spell of farsight enhanced human vision many times over, but it took a while for the brain to get used to it. Slayn looked up at the sky, closed his eyes to adjust his vision, then looked toward the road.
When he finally saw the scene laid out in front of him, he let out a groan.
“This is awful…”
The ground was stained black; charred bodies were strewn over the smoking earth. Slayn could almost smell the acrid stench of burnt flesh.
Slayn aimed his sight at the carriage. A woman in a purple dress stood there, waving her hands busily and ordering the men about. She wore a circlet on her forehead—clearly the craft of the ancient kingdom—and multiple clunky rings that were likely not mere jewelry. The staff she held was not a Sage’s staff, but was crafted from quality oak and carved with magical runes that he couldn’t quite make out.
She must be the one who cast that spell, Slayn thought.
“How is it?” he could hear Parn ask.
Slayn kept watching the woman, knowing it would be too difficult to readjust his line of sight, as he replied. “The Valis knights have been defeated. The only people moving right now are four of the warriors with the carriage and one woman. She must be the one who cast it.” Slayn paused, then said, “Destroying those Valis Holy Knights—she has some formidable power, indeed.”
“How could this happen…?” Parn whispered.
“I don’t know, but it did,” Slayn replied, matter-of-fact. He carefully scanned the area around the carriage again, then returned his focus to the woman still giving orders.
She seemed younger than Slayn, and quite pretty. The outward appearance of a wizard—especially a female one—couldn’t be trusted, of course, but demeanor could not be disguised, and the way she moved seemed youthful. It was possible that she was as young as she appeared.
Slayn was surprised that he’d never heard of such a powerful wizard…though looking at her, he couldn’t help but think that her face seemed familiar. He’d seen it recently…
“I remember now!” he shouted suddenly. “She was the one in the portrait—the one back at the abandoned mansion near Allan! The purple clothes, the circlet… She was even dressed the same. I think her name was Karla… Ghim, do you remember? You seemed quite taken with her.”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about…and I can’t see this woman now, so it’s not like I can say,” Ghim grumbled, then said, “Let’s just hurry over—she’s our enemy, right? We should capture her before she escapes.” He pulled his battle axe off his back.
“Yeah!” Parn cried. “I bet she was sent by Marmo to infiltrate Valis for some reason! She must’ve done something really evil for the Holy Knights to be chasing her!” With that, Parn set off at a run.
“Wait!” Slayn commanded, uncommonly sharp. Parn skidded to a halt, like he’d been caught in a spell.
“What good will it do us to charge in now?” the wizard said. “She’s far more than you can h
andle. Did you forget? She just annihilated five Holy Knights.”
“But…” Parn started to protest, but Slayn’s severe glare stopped him.
“If you want to throw your life away, I won’t stop you,” Slayn continued. “But dying a pointless death is not courage. You need to live on to achieve your goals. Endure for now and wait for an opportunity.”
“But what if the opportunity is lost?” It was Ghim, not Parn, who spoke—his voice was quiet but simmered with intensity.
“I’m just saying that this is not the time. Why are you so worked up about this, anyway? I would understand if it were Parn…”
“I have my reasons,” Ghim mumbled, and started running along toward the battlefield again. Parn glanced apologetically at Slayn, then started after Ghim. Deedlit and Etoh followed right after.
“Made him mad, huh, Mister Wizard?” Woodchuck whispered, sidling up to him. “I, for one, agree with you—so let’s stay back here, yeah?” The thief’s voice in Slayn’s ear was almost like a devil on his shoulder.
“I can’t do that,” Slayn answered—mostly to remind himself—and ran after the others. “I won’t make the same mistake twice…” Slayn bit his lip hard and gripped his staff. He yanked his hood down so he could see better, and a blast of hot air assaulted his face. Still, he kept moving despite the heat and light, running desperately to keep up.
What a load of suckers, Woodchuck thought to himself, and trotted along slowly, far behind the others.
For better or worse, Slayn’s worries didn’t come to pass. When they made it to the scene of the tragic battle, the carriage was long gone. Ghim argued in favor of continuing their pursuit, but Parn insisted that they couldn’t abandon the terrible scene—and that they’d never catch up to a carriage on foot. Ghim finally caved when Slayn reminded him that they’d have to camp at night.
They all intend to attack the carriage, Slayn thought. Knowing he had to steel himself for the inevitable—that he would have to use magic for destruction—he ran through the fire spells he was familiar with.
Parn was stricken speechless by the horror of the scene. Deedlit shrank behind Parn’s back, only her face peeking out, her small hand trembling on his shoulder. She whispered words of mourning in Elvish, and her eyes welled with tears.
