Chapter III: Rescue

Chapter III:

Rescue

 

1

 

It was noon of the third day when they reached the road connecting Kanon to Valis. Though it was a major thoroughfare, the mountainous land it cut through meant steep hills and a rough, uneven surface. The summer sun beat down on them mercilessly, and the loud buzz of cicadas could be heard in the distance as they made their way down another ragged
slope.

Slayn was nearing his breaking point in the heat and was dizzy with fatigue. “It’s just going to get hotter,” he said, sighing deeply from under his hood. Just thinking about walking all day was getting depressing.

“Well, it is summer,” Woodchuck smirked with a sidelong glance at Slayn.

“Thank you for that. I didn’t realize,” Slayn said sarcastically.

“What’s this?” Deedlit stopped suddenly. “They look like hoofprints. Unless this is just a very bumpy road…” She knelt and ran her fingers along the ground. “They’re definitely hoofprints—a huge number of horses passed through here. They were coming from Valis.”

“So Valis has risen…” A smile broke on Etoh’s face. “Marmo’s dark army goes against everything Pharis stands for. I knew they’d fight back!”

“Of course!” Parn cried triumphantly. “King Fahn and his invincible Holy Knights would never let Beld’s actions stand! It’s only a matter of time before he falls!”

I hope you’re right, Slayn thought. He wasn’t convinced that things would be resolved so easily—Valis’s knights were formidable, but Marmo’s army was full of monsters who could use the powers of darkness. Their recent run-in with dark elves made it clear how deadly they could be—Slayn knew that without help from Deedlit and Woodchuck, he never would have survived.

A chill ran down his back, making him sweat uncomfortably in the summer heat.

This war will drag on for a long time, he thought, though he didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to ruin Parn’s good mood.

They made it out of the mountains the following day. The terrain flattened out, which made walking much easier, though the sunny, cloudless weather continued to torment them. As always, Parn and Deedlit led the way, followed by Ghim, then Woodchuck and Etoh, and Slayn bringing up the rear. Slayn struggled along as fast as he could, huffing and puffing and leaning hard on his staff.

A quaint pastoral landscape stretched out from the road in all directions. They had already passed the border into Valis, and long stretches of farmland were dotted with peasant houses and the occasional landowner’s mansion. No matter how far they walked, however, there were no people to be seen. The residents were either hiding indoors in anticipation of impending battle or had already evacuated.

“Valis must already be at war with Marmo,” Etoh said to Woodchuck. “They must be east of here, since we haven’t seen any soldiers yet.”

“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 handle. 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.

The intense fire had turned the road black. There were eight fallen figures, five in Valis armor. Several horses had also fallen victim to the flames.

Etoh crouched down and examined each corpse, his usually gentle face contorted in rage and pity. The charred skins of the corpses sloughed off at a touch, revealing red flesh underneath.

May their killers be judged in Pharis’s name, his mind screamed.

When he reached the last body, he was shocked to find that it was still warm.

“He’s still alive!” Etoh shouted. He could faintly see the man’s chest moving up and down.

Everyone ran up and crowded around Etoh and the man.

“As long as he’s still breathing, I might be able to do something,” Etoh said, and glanced up at Parn, signaling with his eyes.

“Everybody, step back,” Parn said. “Let Etoh work.”

Deedlit looked dissatisfied, but Slayn reassured her. “Etoh uses Pharis’s magic.”

Parn frowned. “We should bury these other poor souls. We can’t just leave them here.”

Ghim nodded silently and unstrapped his axe. The side opposite from the blade had a sharp, hooked tip. He held the axe with that side down, chose a suitable spot, and swung it hard into the ground. The steel claw tore into the earth, breaking the packed soil apart. Meanwhile, Parn found a wooden board and started digging out the dirt. The small hole grew steadily.

Slayn sat down with his back to the road so he wouldn’t have to see the horrible sight and stared instead out at the beautiful fields spread out before him. Questions swirled in his mind. The sorceress, of course, was foremost in his thoughts, but Ghim’s behavior was also bothering him. The dwarf had clearly been transfixed by the portrait in the abandoned house. How could he claim that he’d forgotten it now? For someone who showed little interest in anything but food, he was suddenly charging ahead like a man on a mission. Why would Ghim care so much about Marmo’s minions? There was also the fact that it was odd for a dwarf to go on a journey in the first place—they usually preferred to spend life underground, perfecting their crafts. When Ghim had first visited Slayn, however, he’d been doing research—looking through books of riddles and maps of Lodoss.

Does Ghim have some purpose he’s not told us? Did he find a clue?

Etoh’s chanting filled the air without pause while Ghim, Parn, and Deedlit dug graves. They carried the corpses with as much reverence as they could manage and thrust the knights’ swords into the ground as grave markers. A little distance away, they buried the bodies of the caravan guards. As their somber work continued, the sun started to set, and the blue sky faded into dusk.

“This wizard cast a spell knowing it would kill her own soldiers?” Parn asked bitterly.

“I don’t think so,” Deedlit responded. “I checked over the bodies, and the caravan warriors died from stab wounds. The spell was cast after their deaths. The parts of their bodies in contact with the ground weren’t burned.”

“Still—even if they were already dead, I can’t believe she’d use magic on her own people.”

“Magic shouldn’t be used for destruction at all,” Slayn said. “But what do we do now?”

“We keep going, of course,” Parn declared with complete certainty. Next to him, Ghim nodded.

“You want to fight this sorceress?” Slayn asked, just to make sure. “She’s powerful enough to slaughter multiple foes in one attack. I hate to say it, but don’t you think you’re in over your head?”

“Maybe, I guess,” Parn said with a shrug. “But we can’t let her get away with this.”

“Say we do defeat her,” Woodchuck said, unimpressed. “What do we get out of it? I’m not working for free.”

“Your reward will come from within your own heart,” Etoh answered, coming up behind him.

Woodchuck turned to face the priest. Etoh was clearly exhausted from the effort he’d put into his magic, but his work had paid off—behind him, shaky with pain but standing on his own two legs, was the surviving Valis knight.

Parn beamed.

“The King of Valis will reward you,” the knight said quietly.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Parn asked.

The man nodded. “I am a Valis Imperial Guard—my duty was to protect Princess Fianna.”

“Princess Fianna, princess of Valis?!” Parn interrupted in surprise.

“Let him finish,” Deedlit chided him.

“Yes, exactly. Princess Fianna is King Fahn’s only daughter. This war had a profound effect on her. She wanted to encourage our men on the front lines. Everyone in the castle, the King included, was against the idea—but the princess insisted. She ran away…”

The knight paused for a moment, so Deedlit prompted him. “So, you went to search for her?”

“That’s right. We found out that a merchant had helped her sneak away. We discovered where they’d gone and caught up with them to take her back…and this is the result.”

“We slew a few guards who attacked us as we approached. When we got close to the carriage, that woman came out—she chanted some strange words, and as soon as she finished there was a huge explosion. I was blown off my horse, and I’m ashamed to say that I passed out from the pain…”

Woodchuck leaned in to peer at the man’s face.

“Will there really be a reward?” he asked.

“If you can rescue the princess, I promise you will receive whatever your heart desires.”

Ten thousand gold coins. The words flashed through Wood­chuck’s mind—the payment he needed to become an executive of the Thieves’ Guild. I’ll just have to hope it all works out, he thought to himself, and went to retrieve his pack. I guess I’m a sucker, too.

The group took a few moments to talk. Parn and Etoh had already decided to help, of course—reward or no. Ghim and Deedlit had no objections, and mention of the reward had obviously brought Woodchuck around. Slayn was still worried, but he’d made his decision—he’d do what had to be done to take that sorceress down.

Parn went to the knight and represented the entire group to formally offer their help.

“Thank you,” the knight said with a deep bow. When he raised his head, he glared in the direction the carriage had gone with rage in his eyes, like his glare could somehow reach the woman through the darkness.

Parn’s anger also burned, though not as fiercely as the knight’s. Deedlit stared at him in wonder. How was he able to take someone else’s anger as his own? How could he risk his life for another person’s cause?

The night was dark, only lit by weak starlight—Deedlit was sure the humans would have a tough time. She cast an elemental spell, intoning, “Shining things that live in light, gather here and show yourselves…” A small ball of light floated above her in response, growing steadily brighter.

It was Will-o’-wisp, the light elemental.

Slayn recited his own spell, and a magical light glowed from the tip of his staff. Thus guided by their magical illuminations, they left the burning stench of the battleground behind—though their trepidation remained as they started east down the road to Kanon, accompanied by the Valis knight they’d rescued.

 

3

 

It was late at night when they came upon the carriage parked in front of an old mansion—a solid two-story building surrounded by a fence. The knight told them that all the Valis citizens in this area had evacuated to the city of Adan to escape the war, and the carriage’s occupant probably knew that this building would therefore be empty when choosing a place to stop. The horses were sleeping in the straw under the eaves.

“We’re lucky—they don’t expect us,” Slayn whispered. He muttered a phrase to extinguish his magical light. Deedlit released her light elemental, which flickered a few times and disappeared into the night.

“What should we do now, Sir Knight?” Parn asked, quietly drawing his sword as he threw with a sideways glance at the Holy Knight.

“No need for tricks. If we rush in and surprise them while they’re asleep, we have a good chance of victory.”

The knight squared up, staring at the entrance, and tried to get his breathing under control.

It was eerily quiet, with no sound but the faint clink of their armor. A shaft of light shone through a crack in the door—it seemed there was a lookout just inside.

The knight advanced cautiously, followed closely by Parn, Ghim, and Deedlit. The other three trailed further behind.

“Be careful,” Slayn whispered. His palms were damp with sweat…and who could blame him? They were about to challenge a wizard far more powerful than he.

Once they were close to the door, the knight brandished his sword and broke into a run. The sound woke the horses, and they startled with a shrill whinny.

The knight didn’t hesitate—he used his momentum to kick down the door and leapt inside. Parn and Deedlit followed, and Ghim jumped through a moment behind.

The two lookouts clearly weren’t expecting an attack—they stared blankly at their attackers for a moment, then scrambled for their swords.

“Deed and I will take these two—you and Ghim go upstairs!” Parn shouted as he readied his shield. He measured up the lookout on the left and provoked him with a flourish of his sword. Deedlit circled to the right and thrust her rapier toward the other man. By the time they crossed swords, the Valis knight and Ghim were already running up the stairs.

The second floor was a gallery corridor jutting out along the wall above the large first floor room. There were five doors lined up on the right.

One of those doors opened, and a woman in nightclothes swayed out.

 

Karla snapped awake to the sound of the horses whinnying. She hadn’t expected an attack, but she wasn’t unprepared.

Valis soldiers?

She tossed her blanket aside and grasped the ivory gown she had laid out to wear over her sleep clothes. She heard thundering footsteps approaching before she even managed to tie the sash.

Karla opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, glad she’d left the lights on. One of the Valis knights from earlier that day had somehow survived and was charging up the stairs toward her. A dwarf with a battle axe followed close at his heels. She knew she had to stay calm. The knight was likely the more formidable of the two, considering he’d survived what she was sure was a fatal attack. She had to be wary.

I’ll use my most powerful magic to smite him. Karla raised both hands and waved them in a complex pattern, chanting in the ancient language.

“Mana is the source of all. All is born from mana, all is connected through mana, all returns to mana!” Her spell complete, she flung her hands toward the knight.

Blinding light shot from her hands and struck him right in the chest. His body shone with iridescent brilliance, then burst into a sparkling mist. When it dissipated, his body—as well as his armor and sword—had all faded into nothingness.

Ghim’s eyes widened in shock, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t give her enough time to cast another spell—he swung at her head with the flat of his axe.

But she anticipated his attack—she deftly jumped backwards, pulled herself together, and started another spell. While she was chanting, Ghim prepared to leap at her, glaring as he aimed carefully, knowing he could attack before she completed her spell.

However, when he looked at her face, he froze, mouth agape.

She looks just like her…

The sorceress completed her spell, and a white mist rose around Ghim, surrounding him. He instantly slumped forward, unconscious.

“Ghim!” Slayn yelled from where he stood on the first floor. He knew it was futile but rushed to cast Sleep Cloud nevertheless.

Karla’s attention was drawn to the wizard downstairs, who seemed to be trying to cast a spell on her—a lower class version of the narcosis spell she’d just used. The two mercenaries she’d stationed downstairs as lookouts had already been defeated—a young warrior and an elf maiden were heading upstairs. Down below, she could see some kind of priest giving them assistance, as well as a thief who seemed to be looking for a place to hide.

She decided she didn’t need to kill these intruders—instead, she cast the same spell she’d already used on the dwarf. White mist arose again, spreading down the stairs and across the first floor.

Etoh knew a spell had been cast upon him, so he asked for Pharis’s divine protection under his breath and willed himself to stay conscious. The magic swirled, and he heard Parn and Deedlit collapse at the top of the stairs, while Slayn fell in a heap. Woodchuck didn’t fall, as he’d already huddled in a hiding place, but Etoh had to assume he was asleep, too.

Etoh felt his body grow heavy. He staggered to his knees and crumpled from there. He summoned every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep his consciousness from descending into darkness.

His vision was blurry, and he couldn’t feel his fingers. It was like his senses had fragmented. There was no pain, but he prayed to Pharis that this loss of sensation wouldn’t overwhelm him.

He won the battle—he managed to stay awake, though he pretended the spell had worked. If he and his companions weren’t going to be killed, better to stay still and feign sleep.

 

Karla looked down at the fallen intruders as she slowly descended the stairs. Two mercenaries emerged from the furthest door with their weapons drawn; their breaths caught at the sight before them.

“Wh-what happened, Lady Karla?” one of them asked.

“I’m sure you can guess,” she replied. “If you truly call yourselves mercenaries, you should always be prepared for battle. You would’ve ended up like these two if I’d been slow to awaken.” Karla then gestured to the attackers. “We can’t leave them here—the effects of my spell won’t last forever. Lock them upstairs, in any room but the girl’s. And be sure to take all of their weapons and put them in a separate chamber.”

That would take care of the intruders. They wouldn’t be able to escape a room locked with magic.

But what was she to do next? She was down to two mercenary guards, and she doubted she could take the princess through Valis’s front lines with so few. She’d brought mercenaries from Marmo because she’d been sure it would take sacrifices to get this far, but now she was concerned. It seemed best to return to Kanon and bring her own subordinates.

At the same time, she wondered if these intruders could be swayed to her side. They’d impressed her with their finesse, and an elf and a wizard would make formidable companions. If they were simple adventurers, she was sure she’d be able to persuade them with a few well-chosen words—promise a big enough reward, and they’d gladly become her allies. If they were sensible and ambitious, perhaps they’d understand and even join her cause. Those were her most useful allies—she had many of them spread throughout Lodoss, carrying out missions on her behalf.

She’d failed to assassinate the King of Alania, but this time her goal was almost within reach. Once Princess Fianna was held captive by the Marmo army, perhaps the tide would turn their way. King Fahn of Valis was not the type to throw his kingdom away for his daughter—he would not hesitate to sacrifice her life in the name of justice. But having their princess taken hostage, perhaps executed, would destroy the morale of Valis’s soldiers and knights. The war was at a stalemate right now, both forces equal in military might. A severe drop in morale could be all it took to tip the scales toward Marmo.

Karla made her decision—her top priority had to be summoning her subordinates for help. She went upstairs to check on the mercenaries, who had just dragged the last intruder into the room.

“That’s it,” one of them said. “So, er… What now?”

“Continuing as we have been would be too dangerous—the fort by the border is one of the Valis army’s major strongholds, and it’s possible that they’ve been warned about us via messenger. We need more manpower to push through. I will return to Kanon and bring back reinforcements.”

“I get that we need more people, but what should we do until you get back?” The mercenaries looked uneasy—they’d known this would be a dangerous job, but they hadn’t expected so many of their number to die. They’d known about the sorceress’s fearsome powers and trusted her to use them. Now, they couldn’t shake the suspicion that they were being abandoned.

“Don’t worry, I’ll return soon. For now, stay here and keep watch over the girl and the intruders. I’ll summon a magical guard for their room, so you won’t need to interact with them at all. Just be careful that nothing happens to the girl.” She gazed at them steadily as she gave her instructions. “If you’re attacked by Valis soldiers, you may escape or surrender. I won’t blame you, and I promise to rescue you from prison. However, if you leave this place for any other reason…” She continued to stare at them both, face serious. “No matter where you go,” she said, “I will find you, and your lives will be forfeit.”

Both men gulped and quickly told her that they understood.

“Good,” Karla said with a smile. “I need a moment to prepare, but then I will depart at once. I hope to return as quickly as I can.” She turned then to the door. “Just in case,” she said, “I will tell you how to open the lock on the intruders’ door. Say the word ‘Lasta,’ and the door will open—without it, even trying to destroy the door itself will not work. Magic will make it as strong as iron and seal it as tight as solid rock.”

Next, Karla began casting spells. As she finished the first, the doors closed slowly. As she completed the second, she took a dragon fang from her hair and tossed it onto the floor of the hallway. It shattered, and a white mass grew from it—the mass became an armed skeleton, frozen in position with a sword held limply in its hand.

The mercenaries recoiled in horror. “Wh-what is that?!” one of them stammered.

She gave the Spartoi a command in the ancient language, then said, “Don’t worry—though this skeleton warrior’s entire purpose is to fight, it won’t attack you—only your enemies. It is both more skilled and more staunch than you, for it knows no fear and will thus neither falter nor run away.”

The two mercenaries were so shocked by the Spartoi’s appearance that they didn’t notice the insult. They shared a glance and wordlessly vowed to stay away from that room at all costs.

“I’ll be leaving now,” Karla said. “Stay vigilant…” With that, she retreated to her room. When she reemerged, she was wearing her usual purple dress and carried a staff in her right hand. She descended to the bloodstained first floor and cast a spell with fierce arm gestures.

When the spell finished, she vanished.

The two mercenaries sighed deeply and started carrying their comrades’ bodies outside for burial.

 

4

 

Etoh waited until the talking had faded, then stood up cautiously and looked around. His body was still numb from the spell, and he was exhausted both physically and mentally—from their forced march the day before, and from having used such advanced holy magic.

But he didn’t have time to be concerned for himself. They had to escape as quickly as possible. He’d heard the entire conversation between the sorceress Karla and her two minions, and knew they only had a small window of time in which they could escape.

They had to hurry, but there was nothing he could do by himself. He could tell his companions were alive from the quiet sounds of their breathing and the rising and falling of their chests. He could try waking them, but since they’d been knocked unconscious by magic, he decided it would be safer to wait until they woke naturally.

Etoh sat hugging his knees and lost himself in thought.

Karla had been sent by the Marmo Empire and had been part of covert operations in Kanon and Valis. But Slayn had never heard of her. There was that powerful wizard in Marmo, though—the one called Wagnard. Could he have disguised himself as a woman?

Whoever she was, it was bizarre that they’d gotten sucked into two of her plots. It seemed too strange to be coincidence…Could this be a test from the gods?

That answer actually made Etoh feel better. It meant Pharis was watching over him.

It took a full two hours for the others to wake up. Ghim was first, then Deedlit, Parn, Slayn, and Woodchuck. Once they were all conscious, he filled them in on everything he’d overheard.

After he finished, Etoh turned to Parn. “What should we do now?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Parn said. “Rescue Princess Fianna and get out of here before that witch gets back!” He shook his head, still bleary from the spell.

“Right—the sooner the better,” Deedlit said. “Those two men should be tired by now. At least one will probably be sleeping,” She checked her shoulder armor and drew out the hidden dagger within—fortunately, it was still there.

“This is gonna be a bit dicey if that’s our only weapon,” Woodchuck commented, looking at the dagger. “The skeleton outside is pretty tough, right?”

“A Spartoi? They’re more skilled than the average warrior,” Slayn said—the prowess of the Spartoi was why they’d been used as sentinels at the Wizard Academy. Slayn crept quietly to the door and peered out through the crack—the armored skeleton stood there, its hollow eyes watching the door. Slayn turned back to the group. “It’s definitely a Spartoi.”

Parn stood up, fists clenched. “We’ll still have to beat it,” he said.

“This could be used as a weapon.” With a huge crack, Ghim pulled a leg off the room’s table. “They’re not great, but we can use these as clubs. Better than nothing, at least.”

Parn took two of the clubs, and Etoh took one. Deedlit kept her dagger, despite claiming, “Though it won’t work on a skeleton.” She slid next to the door and prepared to leap out.

“Leave this to me and Ghim,” Parn said, brandishing his dual table legs.

Ghim and Parn stood side-by-side in front of the door, with Etoh a few steps behind them. When they were ready, Etoh said the word Karla had told the guards: “Lasta.”

The door slowly creaked open, and the Spartoi appeared beyond. It seemed to know that the time had come to fulfill its purpose. The dangling scimitar was slowly raised, and it readied the circular shield at its chest.

Ghim and Parn leapt out to face the Spartoi. For the first blow, Parn aimed for its defenseless head, but a quick block by its shield deflected his attack. The skeleton struck back, wielding the thin scimitar like a skilled swordsman. Parn parried somehow with his left table leg and thrust the right toward the Spartoi’s ribs, only for his strike to be blocked again.

Indeed, the Spartoi blocked every blow he attempted. And while Parn also managed to block the skeleton’s blows, with every block, the table leg in his left hand was gradually being chipped away.

I won’t last much longer like this, Parn thought, cold sweat dripping from his brow.

Behind him, his own table leg gripped in both hands, Ghim stood stock-still and waited for an opening. That was his preferred fighting style—cinching a victory in a single blow. He calmly followed the skeleton’s movements, sizing it up. He doubted that this monster would be felled with his makeshift club…but there was a way. Parn just had to hold out.

“Ghim, what are you doing?! Parn’s in danger!” Deedlit cried out from behind.

“Quiet!” Ghim yelled back. “Dwarves have our own way of fighting.” Etoh and Deedlit were poised behind Parn, ready to jump in if necessary—but hoping they wouldn’t need to.

“I can’t last like this!” Parn cried out in despair as one table leg took a direct hit and finally snapped in two. The scimitar swung right through it and into Parn’s torso, clanging hard against his armor. Deedlit screamed and looked away.

But the moment Ghim had been waiting for had arrived. The skeleton wasn’t prepared for its sword to swing so far forward—it overbalanced and staggered a step toward Parn.

The moment the skeleton began pulling its sword back, Ghim leapt into action. He swung low, then quickly struck upward toward the Spartoi’s sword arm. He hit his mark on the humerus, which shattered with a dry crack—though Ghim’s table leg shattered, as well. The Spartoi’s scimitar clattered to the floor.

Ghim tossed his useless weapon aside. With a fearsome battle cry, he charged the Spartoi, leading with his right shoulder—the skeleton tried to block with its shield. There was a sickening crack and though Ghim grimaced at the sharp pain spiking through his shoulder, he didn’t slow. Instead, he shoved the Spartoi up, hoisting it into the air.

The skeleton flailed its limbs, but it couldn’t grab on to anything. With another angry roar, Ghim heaved the Spartoi over the gallery handrail and sent it crashing to the stone floor below.

The Spartoi tried to struggle to its feet, but after a few moments its crushed limbs fell limp to the floor, and the skeleton stopped moving.

“We did it,” Parn said with a smile.

Ghim chuckled in return, then peered over the balcony. “Looks like our sleeping friends are up.”

Parn joined him in looking downstairs. The two mercenaries had come out into the hallway of the first floor, one armed with a sword, the other carrying a spear. They looked at the crushed skeleton with trepidation, but after a moment they seemed to notice that their enemies were unarmed and dashed up the stairs.

“Leave this to me!” Deedlit cried as she slid past Parn. She brandished her dagger and quickly cast a spell. The room was engulfed in darkness for a moment, and then the spirit of light floated out. The little glowing sphere darted playfully toward the stairs.

“I’ll go get our weapons!” Etoh yelled and dashed off—they were likely in the room next to their prison.

The Will-o’-wisp danced wildly across the width of the staircase, between Deedlit and the mercenaries. The elf readied her dagger.

“What’s that?” asked the sword-wielding mercenary, taking an experimental swipe at the sphere of light. The moment his blade touched the light, he cried out in pain and rolled down the stairs, clutching his right hand—Will-o’-wisp had delivered a powerful shock to it before vanishing.

The man with the spear paused, distracted by his companion’s screams. That turned out to be a fatal mistake—Deedlit let her dagger fly, and it buried itself right in the man’s throat.

The first mercenary overcame the pain in his hand to challenge Deedlit with his sword, but Deedlit took up the dead man’s spear and finished him off.

By the time Etoh returned with their weapons, it was over.

“Here’s your rapier, Deedlit,” Etoh said, handing the weapon over. He couldn’t keep the impressed look off his face.

Deedlit sheathed her rapier at her hip, smoothed her disheveled hair with both hands, and turned to Parn. “Now what?”

“We rescue the princess, of course,” Parn declared, heading back into the hallway.

It didn’t take long to find the room where Princess Fianna was being kept. It was locked, and they could detect neither noise nor light from within.

Parn and Woodchuck exchanged a look. The thief sidled silently over to the door, took a wire from his pocket, and inserted it into the keyhole.

“Doesn’t seem to be trapped,” he murmured. He jiggled the wire a few times, then the lock opened with a click.

Parn opened the door. The faint light from the hallway illuminated the entryway, but it was pitch dark thereafter.

Parn started to step forward, but Deedlit stopped him.

“This is a princess’s bedchamber,” she whispered. “You men need to stay out.”

Deedlit stepped forward into the room. With her excellent elvish night vision, she could make out a small, trembling figure hiding beyond the bed. Deedlit couldn’t blame the princess for being frightened. She sighed and opened her arms wide.

“It’s all right, Your Highness. My name is Deedlit, and my friends and I are here to rescue you. Please come out, there’s no need to be scared.” She paused, waiting for a response, but the girl said nothing. Deedlit could only hear the sound of her quick, strained breathing.

“Lauma adonia moile de Pharis,” Etoh called out from the doorway. Deedlit glanced back at him.

“Moiros rahm,” a young woman’s hoarse voice replied. “Is there a Pharis cleric here?”

“I’m still only a priest, actually,” Etoh replied, reverently bowing his head toward the darkness.

“We’re here to rescue you, so please come this way,” Deedlit repeated. A small shadow in white sleeping clothes rose from behind the bed and walked over hesitantly.

The moment she caught sight of Etoh’s priest robes with the holy symbol of Pharis, she slipped past Deedlit to leap into Etoh’s arms, letting out a high-pitched wail.

Etoh staggered backwards, and Parn had to support him so he didn’t topple over under the girl’s weight. Parn blushed deeply when he took a closer look at the girl—her nightgown was extremely sheer.

Deedlit scowled at Parn and unbuckled her cloak to drape over the girl’s shoulders. Etoh was also blushing but didn’t pull away from comforting the girl.

“Your Highness,” Etoh said, “you need to prepare to leave this place. We don’t know when the sorceress will be back, so we must go as soon as we can.” Hearing that, Slayn stepped away to retrieve their things, Ghim and Woodchuck following close behind.

“Wonderful. Another midnight march,” Woodchuck grumbled. He wasn’t sure if it was the long day of walking or the lingering effects of the spell, but he felt much more sluggish than usual.

“You’re welcome to stay here and sleep, if you want the witch to eat you,” Ghim said, glaring at Woodchuck. “Everyone’s tired. Stop complaining.”

“All right, all right,” Woodchuck sighed.

“I hope we can use that carriage,” Deedlit mumbled to herself as she headed to the staircase. Parn followed after her to help.

“So do I,” the princess stammered. She made to follow Deedlit and Parn and lend a hand, but Etoh stopped her.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness—we can handle this ourselves. You should get ready to leave.” With that, Etoh followed the others downstairs.

Princess Fianna headed back to her room. Once there, she at last noticed how immodestly she was dressed. Her face flushed with mortification—if Elmore, the Grand Chamberlain, found out she’d embraced a young priest while dressed like this, she would get quite a scolding.

Embarrassment aside, she was truly grateful for the priest’s presence. She was relieved to be rescued, of course, but she still felt anxious surrounded by such strange people. Hearing someone recite Pharis prayers was a welcome taste of home. The others were so odd to her—she’d never met anyone at all like them back at Roid Castle. She shivered. She wanted to go home.

Before, she had wanted to travel to the front lines to encourage the troops—but instead, she’d been tricked and captured. Magic had kept her subdued and captive during the day, and at night, the guards made escape impossible. She had basically resigned herself to her fate—that of being taken to Marmo and used as a hostage—but omniscient and omnipotent Pharis had not abandoned her. He’d sent her angels of salvation, though they weren’t exactly what she would’ve expected.

Fianna traced the sign of Pharis over her heart and offered a prayer of gratitude, then quickly flung off her nightgown and reached for the dress left folded on the table. They’re my only hope, she told herself, but still couldn’t shake the doubt that gripped her heart.

By the time Etoh made it outside, Deedlit was trying to calm a restless horse in a language he’d never heard. Another horse was already hitched to the carriage, waiting quietly. Parn was leading another horse, saddled and ready to ride, in a circle.

Deedlit brought the now-calmed horse over to Etoh and glanced at the priest. “Etoh, why don’t you get into the carriage and take a nap? You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“But—” he tried to object, but the elf shook her head.

“You’ll make yourself most useful by climbing into this carriage, wrapping yourself in a blanket, and going to sleep.” Deedlit spoke gently but firmly. From the moment she’d woken from the spelled sleep, she’d noticed that Etoh looked completely exhausted—sick and deathly pale.

Etoh nodded and, without another word, climbed into the gilded carriage. He felt around the dark interior to find the seat and lie down.

A moment later, he slipped into a deep slumber, as if Karla’s magic had only been delayed.

Dressed and ready to go, Princess Fianna came outside and climbed into the carriage, Deedlit right behind her. Parn forced an objecting Ghim onto a horse behind him. Once astride, the dwarf howled his protests at the terrifying height. Woodchuck took the carriage reins; Slayn sat beside him on the driver’s seat. They were all exhausted, but the thought of Karla made them forget their fatigue. They would be killed if they met her again, and with her powerful magic, she might already know they’d escaped.

With that terrifying thought, they headed out.

Slayn’s staff cast a wan glow on the path ahead. Dawn was still hours away, and their goal—the city of Adan—was even further off.

The journey through darkness seemed to last forever, but eventually the eastern sky brightened and the morning sun rose over the horizon. The tension abated with the darkness. Parn started to drift off despite being on horseback, and Ghim had to keep him awake for fear of sliding off along with him. Woodchuck handed the reins off to Slayn and fell quickly asleep. Slayn left the horses mostly to their own devices, trusting them to follow the path with only a light touch on the reins. They were travelling through fields, beneath the trees planted along the path, their leaves spread wide to receive the sunlight’s blessing. Roosters crowed in the distance.

“We’re still half a day from Adan?” Parn asked Slayn, giving the rising sun a gloomy look.

Slayn nodded. “We might get there before noon. It’ll be another hot day.”

“We should stop for a rest.”

“We should,” the wizard said. “We’re all exhausted, as are the horses. It would be nice to rest in the shade during the heat of the day and then keep going this evening.”

Despite their words, they pushed on. They didn’t know how far the witch was behind them, after all. Around noon, however, the horses started to foam at the mouth, and they had to stop.

Etoh and Woodchuck were awake by then. Deedlit and Princess Fianna woke soon after and emerged from the carriage.

The group chose a large tree along the road and settled down under its branches. Ghim dismounted, relieved to feel the earth beneath his feet once more. Parn stretched out next to him and immediately started snoring. Deedlit looked on warmly. Slayn started to doze off where he sat.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Etoh said, slow and languid. “We won’t have truly escaped Karla’s clutches until we reach the Valis army. We’ll be safe once we make it to Adan, so we’ll just have to stay on our guard and keep moving forward.” Etoh glanced at Parn’s snoring form, then at Slayn, who was still sitting up but dead asleep. “Before we rest, we should decide who’s going to ride next and who’s going to drive. I could probably manage the latter.”

“I’ll ride next, then,” Deedlit offered. “The princess can stay in the carriage, but Slayn and Parn should join her. Wood can drive with you, Etoh. Do you think Ghim would fit next to you both?”

“Not with my girth,” the dwarf replied.

“Then you can sit behind me. There’s a grip on the saddle. Just don’t touch me, or I’ll throw you off the horse.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ghim answered, looking serious. He’d had to cling to Parn’s waist for dear life while sitting behind him—a horse’s gait was bouncier than he’d expected.

“We’ll rest a little while longer,” Etoh said. “But then we have to get going. We shouldn’t be too far from the city.” He looked at the sunlight coming down through the trees. The supreme god Pharis ruled the sun, and its light was his blessing…but its heat was almost unbearable already. It would be a rough afternoon.

 

5

 

The group departed not long after the sun had reached its zenith, in the hottest part of the day. The horse carrying Deedlit and Ghim led the way, followed by the carriage driven by Etoh.

There was nowhere for the witch to hide in the bright afternoon, but they still couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. Parn and Slayn probably felt the same despite being asleep—crammed uncomfortably on the carriage seat, they both moaned in their sleep with every bump in the road.

“Shouldn’t be long now,” Etoh murmured with a glance at the sky. There were several huge, pillar-shaped clouds to the west—it would likely rain that evening, but they would probably reach Adan before then.

Etoh glanced behind them on the road. There was no one there.

As he turned forward again, however, he noticed a black speck high in the air. He blinked to clear his eyes—it was still there.

He had a bad feeling.

Woodchuck was lost in thought, staring blankly at the unchanging rural landscape. He was mostly daydreaming about the reward from the Valis royal family. The Holy Knight who’d promised them a reward had died, but returning a princess to her family had to be worth a lot. He could use that money to become an executive of the Alania Thieves’ Guild—or maybe he’d open an inn somewhere. Or he could even spend the rest of his life doing absolutely nothing.

That made him smile for a moment, but then he shook off that train of thought. Surely he was capable of doing something more. If he convinced himself to be satisfied with an ordinary life, he’d never make up for the twenty-odd years he’d lost in prison.

I gotta do something big…

His thoughts were interrupted by a poke to his side.

“Woodchuck—what do you think that is?” Etoh asked.

Woodchuck looked where the priest was pointing. He narrowed his eyes. “That black dot?” he asked. “Hm. It’s pretty far, so it’s hard to tell—but it’s gotta be a bird.” He snorted, annoyed that Etoh had intruded on his happy fantasy for something so trivial.

“Just a bird?” Etoh said. His heart pounded in his chest, and he couldn’t shake the bad feeling. “Let’s wake Slayn and Parn, just in case. There’s no way that’s just a bird—it’s so far away, it must be huge, whatever it is. And it keeps getting bigger—I think it’s heading straight for us!”

Woodchuck looked again. As Etoh had said, the bird did seem strangely large. “It better not be a dragon,” he said in a shaky voice as he opened the small window. “Slayn! Parn! Wake up—we’ve got a job for you!” He pulled out his dagger, though he knew it’d be useless against whatever beast flew at them.

“Whoa!” Etoh cried, stopping the carriage in the middle of the road. Deedlit turned back with a questioning look.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Slayn asked sleepily, thin face peering out the window. He was still groggy, but upon seeing the alarm in Woodchuck and Parn’s expressions, he climbed out of the carriage, putting up his hood to escape the oppressive sun.

“Look!” Etoh pointed, and Slayn strained his eyes.

“I can’t tell from here…” He shook his head, then mumbled a spell under his breath. He focused on the black mass again, then his mouth opened in astonishment. “That’s a roc! It’s a legendary bird, extremely rare—only ever seen in the desert east of Flaim. They say they’re messengers of the gods… But why would there be one flying around here?!”

“A roc?! There’s no way!” Etoh cried. “It has to be the witch transformed. Look at the size of it!” Etoh was almost screaming, his calm demeanor overwhelmed by the panic the thought of Karla’s fearsome powers roused.

“That does make sense,” Slayn admitted. He gripped his staff and prepared to cast a spell.

Just as Parn and Fianna emerged from the carriage, the roc flew over their heads, flapped its massive wings, and landed before them in the middle of the road. The wings blew a huge cloud of dust into their faces; they crouched with tears in their eyes, rubbing to get the grit out.

Once they could all open their eyes again, the giant bird was gone—and in its place was a woman in a purple dress, a staff in her hand. She walked forward slowly, a faint smile on her lips like she’d found a new toy.

The witch Karla stopped quite close to them, the circlet with its eye-gems gleaming on her forehead. “I suppose not enough time has passed to say that I missed you,” she said in a gentle voice.

Parn drew his sword and stepped forward to protect the others, ready to spring into action. Slayn held his staff out sideways and recited a spell in his mind, tapping his foot to enhance his focus.

“Why are you here?” Etoh asked in a hoarse voice. In the light of day, he could see the witch’s pale, strikingly beautiful face. Her coal-black hair that seemed to absorb the light. A powerful magic emanated from her whole being—and while he couldn’t suppress his fear, he could overcome it. He refused to surrender to her power.

Slayn thought she looked strangely sad. But a moment later, the woman’s eyes shone blue and cruelly intelligent. Her red lips began a bewitching dance.

Parn heard a strangely musical murmur. He braced himself, sword and shield prepared, determined to take on her magic with his entire body. Anger welled up inside him at the thought of all that power used for injustice.

But somehow, the witch’s strange words seeped into the anger he was feeling. Parn blinked. The witch was smiling at him, not the frosty expression from earlier—her gaze was full of tolerance and patience, like that of a goddess of mercy. Parn realized she would never harm him. His weapon drooped in his hand.

“Stay alert!” Slayn warned. “She’s casting a spell on you!”

The voice seemed like it came from far away, but it snapped Parn back to his senses, and he willed himself to stay grounded.

“None of your tricks, witch!” Parn shouted in rage. He swung wildly, as if trying to destroy the spider’s web entangling him. Etoh half expected Parn to charge her then and there, but the young warrior simply resumed his original stance, burning eyes locked on the sorceress.

“You stole this girl from the mansion, and you have the strength of will to shake off my magic…you have proven yourselves worthy adventurers.” Karla looked at them with honest admiration for a moment, then her ice-cold gaze swept over them. “It would be a pity to kill you now. Will you join me? You may not understand it right now, but everything I am doing is for the benefit of Lodoss in the end. I can give you all that you desire—wealth, fame, knowledge, or perhaps a beautiful companion?”

“No way!” Parn shouted, furious.

“If you don’t desire anything, that’s fine. Hand over the girl and leave this place at once. If you refuse, I will show no mercy. You will die here, your corpses charred to cinders!”

Karla waved her hands and chanted spells one after another in a flowing melody. With each incantation, a flaming red sphere appeared above her and started spinning like a living thing.

“Unbelievable,” Slayn whispered, his voice steeped in despair. “Each of those is a fire spell. Just one would be enough to kill us all.”

“Isn’t there something we can do?” Parn asked.

“No. It would take all my mental capacities to produce just one of those orbs.”

“Okay.” Parn made up his mind. He’d rather die fighting like his father than live in disgrace. He forced his breath to calm, scanned the landscape between him and the witch, then raised his sword to his shoulder and pointed the tip straight at her bosom.

Deedlit noticed what he was doing, gulped, and opened her mouth to speak.

“Wait!” a voice called out—it was shaky, but resolute. “If I go with you, will you spare them?”

Princess Fianna stepped forward. Etoh watched as her eyes turned to the witch, unwavering, with royal pride and dignity—though he also saw how her slender limbs trembled.

He edged discreetly over to the princess.

“Your Highness, we’ll buy you time,” he whispered quickly. “She won’t use magic that will harm you—if we all run, we might distract her long enough for you to escape. Take the horse, gallop through the fields and into the forest, then head for Adan. Have faith in Pharis’s protection.” Etoh raised his arms. “Now go!” he cried, and the holy light of Pharis flickered above his head. For a moment, a bright flash outshone even the sun, and the witch was forced to avert her eyes.

Fianna stared at Etoh as if she had no idea what to do. “Go!” the priest cried, and Fianna ran for the horse.

Slayn cast darkness and put the cloak of night behind the princess, blocking her from the witch’s view. He then stepped sideways to prepare his next spell.

Deedlit stepped up next. “Wind maiden unfettered, stop the air’s vibrations and muffle all sound,” she said, casting the spell of silence where the witch stood. Then she drew her rapier. Parn and Ghim were already running.

Karla gestured with her hands and tried to send the balls of fire smashing down on top of them—but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out. She recognized the elvish magic of Sylph, the wind elemental.

Impertinent fools! Karla shook the ring on her left finger and erected invisible magic protections around her. She stepped back out of the area affected by the elemental’s spell.

Parn ran in to stop her escape. He thrust his sword at her, but the blade was stopped by an invisible wall. The impact stung his hand, almost making him drop his sword.

“If you want to die that badly, I’ll indulge you!” Finally able to speak, Karla focused and spread the magic wall around her in order to cast her next spell uninterrupted.

Parn and Ghim were propelled backwards. Parn fought to resist the unstoppable force, furious at his own powerlessness. He knew they couldn’t win.

But then, in his moment of despair, a cloud of dust rose beyond the road.

Slayn’s eyes were still keen due to the farsight spell, so it was easy for him to see what approached. He removed his hood and called out joyfully to Etoh and Woodchuck, who were hiding under the carriage. “It’s the Valis Order of Knights—at least twenty of them! And those robes in front…that’s a wizard from the Academy! It must be Lord Elm, the Valis court wizard!”

With a quick prayer of thanks to Pharis, Etoh relayed the information to Parn at the top of his lungs.

“Amazing!” Parn’s face brightened, the despair and hopelessness disappearing.

Karla overheard—no, the obnoxious priest had made sure she heard. Rage coursed through her but dissipated quickly.

I suppose fate is on their side. She switched to another spell as she glanced behind. As the priest had said, a group of armed horsemen were galloping toward her at full speed, calling out for Princess Fianna.

Karla smiled. “Cherish your good fortune—just don’t let it go to your heads. And never appear before me again. Miracles don’t repeat themselves, after all.” She dissolved her magic wall and activated another spell—one that sounded quite different from her usual incantations, spoken in the ancient language.

Truth be told, it sounded very similar to Etoh’s prayers.

“That’s Marfa’s holy magic,” Slayn said to Etoh in wonder.

As they watched, Karla vanished, her smile unwavering the entire time.

“That witch must be a priestess of Marfa,” Slayn explained. “The spell she cast is known as the return spell and can only be used by Marfa priestesses.”

Etoh wondered why a wizard would be more familiar with holy magic than a priest like him. He’d heard that most wizards worshiped Rahda, god of knowledge—but he’d never seen Slayn pray.

“A Marfa priestess?” Ghim asked with a grave look as he pressed closer to the wizard.

Slayn nodded, surprised by the dwarf’s intensity. “And a high-ranking one, too. At least from what I’ve heard.”

“I knew it!” Ghim shouted.

“What do you mean?” asked Slayn. “You know something, don’t you? Something you’ve been hiding.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Ghim scowled. His stomach heaved with emotion—joy and anger twisting together. “I didn’t think it could be true…but how is she casting magic? And why would she side with Marmo?”

 

6

 

Slayn sighed in relief and walked over to Parn. He knew Elm from his time at the Academy, though they had only overlapped for a few years. They were more than a decade apart in age, but Slayn had been accepted at the Academy when he was still a child.

Elm was a prodigy, similar in strength to Wagnard, and a passionate devotee of Pharis. It seemed natural that he was quickly welcomed as Valis’s court wizard.

Slayn bowed deep to the middle-aged wizard leading the knights. “It’s been a while, Lord Elm,” he said. “Do you remember me? Slayn Starseeker?”

The knights were wary, but Lord Elm took one look at the robe, staff, and Slayn’s thin face—and smiled. “I do remember you—you have a distinctive face and voice. You’ve grown up.”

“Thank you.”

“I must ask—what are you doing here? Did you leave on a journey after the Academy closed?”

“Something like that,” Slayn said, sidestepping the question. “Are you searching for Princess Fianna?”

“We’ve been chasing after a group of merchants that took her. But how did you know? Have you seen her?”

Slayn nodded. “It’s a long story, but she is with us. The wizard we were fighting had kidnapped her, but we rescued her.”

As if on cue, the princess emerged from behind Slayn’s wall of darkness—she’d chosen not to escape by herself after all. The knights cheered in relief and delight, and several quickly dismounted and rushed over to her.

“Looks like we’re the ones who should bow to you,” Elm said. “Slayn, I can’t thank you enough. I had no idea you’d grown to be such a fine wizard. By the way—have you found your star yet?”

“Not yet.” Slayn answered. “But don’t just thank me. We were only able to rescue the princess thanks to this young man.” He gestured at Parn. “Without his skills and willpower, we never would have gotten her here safely.”

“I see,” said Elm, nimbly swinging down from his horse. “Then I must thank you as well. What’s your name?”

“I’m Parn,” he said with a knight’s salute—but he was distracted by the Holy Knights’ white suits of armor. His thoughts from the day before swam through his head as he continued, “I am the son of Tessius, a Valis Holy Knight.” Parn himself was surprised as he blurted it out, though once it was said, he watched them intently for their reaction. Valis knights should know why his father died.

“Tessius the Holy Knight?” Elm said more sharply than Parn had expected. It made him uneasy. “Is that true? Are you truly Tessius’s son?”

“Yes. This armor is proof—it may be dirty, but it’s still the official armor of the Valis Order of Knights.”

“It does look like it,” Elm said, looking him over.

“There’s no mistake, Lord Elm,” said one of the Holy Knights. “His armor is the same as ours.”

“It must be true,” said another. “No one would bother claiming to be Tessius’s son.”

“What do you mean?” Parn cut in. “Please tell me—how did my father die? My mother wouldn’t tell me anything, just said to have faith in him. But rumors say he died a coward’s death…”

Elm approached Parn and warmly placed a hand on his shoulder. “Your father did indeed disobey orders, but he was never a coward. Lord Tessius’s duty was to patrol the northern border with another young knight and report the discovery of any enemies he saw. But when he learned that a small village was in danger of being raided, Tessius sent the other knight to make the report and stayed behind to fight the savages alone.

“Your father went to the village by himself, warned them of the danger, and bought the residents time to escape by fighting the savages alone. There were too many of them—he had no chance. Still, he didn’t hesitate. And because of what he did, damage to the village was minor.”

“Is that true?” Parn’s voice was hoarse.

“It is. His bravery should have been praised. But the laws of chivalry are absolute, no exceptions—so the King had to strip him of his knighthood for disobeying his orders. Anyone who knows the truth, though, can’t help but admire his courage.”

“Among the Holy Knights, Lord Tessius’s actions were honorable,” a young knight said. “There are twisted rumors about his death because we can’t openly tell the truth…but do you really think rumors such as those could keep one knight’s name alive for so long?” The young knight seemed almost jealous of Tessius’s son.

“I’m happy for you,” Deedlit said, gently taking Parn’s arm.

“And Lord Tessius brought us yet more honor today,” the young knight went on. “For among those who rescued our kidnapped princess is none other than his son! This must be Pharis’s divine guidance!”

“So Dad’s death wasn’t dishonorable after all…” For the first time, Parn felt a surge of pride that the armor he wore came from his father, who had made the right choice—the very same one Parn would have made. It was further proof that his father’s blood ran in his veins.

Parn looked up into the brilliant sky and said a prayer. “I thank you for the blood of my father, which runs in my veins.”

In return, he could feel his father’s spirit looking down upon him.