You Scratch My Face, And I’ll Slash Yours

You Scratch My Face, And I’ll Slash Yours

There they were, standing right in front of us—lined up like an illustration out of a fairy tale: ten knights in shining armor. The sun gleamed luminously all around them, bouncing off the tips of their blades, so blindingly bright that the silver metal began to glow white. It was downright dazzling.

Gourry and I sighed, knowing that we both shared the same thought: what a bunch of dorks.

“At last we have found you, villains!” their leader announced, extending his index finger in our direction. Doesn’t he know it’s rude to point?

Here we go again…. We’d been running into groups of “heroes” just like these all too often lately.

“You—the Foul and Notorious Criminals Lina Inverse and Gourry Gabriev! Hark ye! I give thee notice that thy wickedness endeth here!”

Wow. Try saying that five times fast! He giveth uth notith that our wickedneth endeth here, huh?

The wind buffeted my mantle back as Sir Dork-a-lot prattled on. And on. And on. And on…

… And on some more! There was no point in inter­rupting. He wasn’t going to listen to a “foul and notorious criminal” like me, anyway.

How did we get here, exactly? Well, it all started days before…

* * *

Clever girl that I am, I realized that I’d been captured the moment that I—uh—regained consciousness.

Yep, captured. Definitely captured. Definitely.

Oh, shush. You try thinking of something complex and clever the next time your limbs are bound up and aching and your head is throbbing like you’ve got an ogre dancing between your ears! And a gag! Did I mention I was gagged, too?!

At least the stone floor felt cool on my cheek. Not that clean-and-happy-other-side-of-the-pillow kind of cool, but considering that the room was muggy and damp and smelled like toxic mold, it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant kind of cool, either. Near as I could tell we were in some sort of warehouse, someplace used for storing… mildew, maybe?

I looked around, hoping I’d spy something that would help me make more sense of the situation. I spotted two men—guards, presumably—staring at me from across the room. They were standing near what looked like it might have been a well, and each was armed with a crude club.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Who said that? I turned. Gourry!

Even bound hand and foot and stripped of his famous sword, he was still the same old Gourry: pretty as a painting and dumb as a zombie.

What? Okay, fine, I admit it! I exaggerate: the truth is that Gourry is very smart—compared to a zombie. Better? Look, Gourry is probably the best swordsman I’ve ever seen, but he isn’t gonna win any prizes for his mental prowess. You know what I’m saying?

And—okay, I’ll admit it—there was something kind of funny about seeing him all tied up. Heh heh.

I wonder why they didn’t make him wear a gag. I’d really have gotten a kick out of that. I mean, here we are, both tied up and I’m the one—Gahhhhh!

What was I snickering about?! We were in trouble!

“Ntnnmh! Nmh!” Suddenly panicked, I struggled against my bonds. Alas, the more I squirmed, the worse things got.

“The girl’s up,” Guard A alerted Guard B.

“Ah… yep,” confirmed Guard B, who didn’t really know what he was supposed to do with that information. “You know… she really doesn’t look the type,” he mused.

Doesn’t look WHAT type?

“And that is exactly why she’s dangerous.” Guard A smirked like he was some kind of Lina Inverse expert. “Don’t ya go letting yer guard down on account of her looks.”

Guard B nodded sagely.

Oh, please.

“Hey fellas,” Gourry piped up. “You guys mind filling us in on why exactly you’re holding us here?” He kept his tone light, like he was asking for the time of day.

And yet, A and B looked startled and pathetically… well, pathetic.

“Just who do ya think yer trying ta fool—” Guard A’s eyes narrowed as he growled and clenched his club.

Reactionary nutjobs.

“Easy now,” Guard B interceded.

“Yeah, okay,” Guard A toned it down a notch, begrudgingly

That, would have been a good time for me to diplo­matically diffuse the situation with my charm and wit—and 1 would have done so, too, if it hadn’t been for that stupid gag in my mouth.

Guard A let his gaze creep in my direction. Creep being the operative word, as his look took a turn toward the lecherous.

Ew… what’s with the stare, you perv?

“Kind of a waste, handing a girl like that over to the law, donchathink?”

Oh, ew ew ew! How did I know something like this was coming?

I mean, it’s true: I am in possession of an intoxicating cocktail of physical attributes that together could be described as beautiful, or even irresistible, or—worst case—“kinda hot, for a flat girl.” Still, a gentleman wouldn’t leer.

Wait a minute! Hand me over to the law?!

I’ve been called some awful things in my time: Bandit Slayer, King of Hades—(I never really understood that one; should I be offended?)—but those are the names that the bad guys call me because they’re scared.

There is absolutely no reason whatsoever that I should be on the wrong side of the law!

Unless…

Gourry!

Oh, sure—he seemed like a nice guy, but how could I know for sure? We’d only been traveling together for a few months, and I really didn’t know that much about him. Maybe there was some nefarious reason he never talked about himself. Maybe he was hiding something shady in his past? Ah, yes. That had to be it. It was all Gourry’s fault. I became quite sure of it.

So then, why wasn’t El Creepo staring at Gourry instead of me, huh?

“What did you do this time?” Gourry asked me, obviously at odds with my theory.

Me? Gourry, I’m crushed! How could you not trust me, after everything we’ve been through together?

It would have been fun to have faked a few tears and berated him for doubting me, but I couldn’t sob properly with that gag in my mouth.

Bummer…

“What do you mean, a waste?” B asked, his tone suggesting he already knew the answer.

“After we hand her over, it’s only a matter of time ‘til her neck comes off her shoulders, right? So if’n we were to, uh, mess around with her a little bit, who would mind?”

Me! Yoo hoo! Over here! I would mind! I would mind quite a bit—thankyouverymuch!

If it wasn’t me and it wasn’t Gourry, then it had to be a case of mistaken identity, right? Nothing else made any sense! But since, “Oh gee, fellas, you’ve got the wrong gal,” probably wasn’t going to throw cold water on A’s plans, I still had a pressing problem on my hands.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

So B was on my side! Yay, B! Okay, sure, it sounded more like fear than any moral compunction, but considering the circumstances, I didn’t want to pick nits. I had my champion. You tell him, B! Show A who’s boss! You go, B!

“Fine,” said A. “You stand guard, then. If she tries anything funny, beat her to death.”

“Yeah… yeah, okay. I s’pose.”

No! No, not “I s’pose”!! C’mon B! Don’t give in!

“Relax, would ya? I’m not gonna untie her or anything. It’s better this way.”

“Heh, I hadn’t thought of that. Um, in that case maybe I’ll, uh—”

Oh, nuh-UH! Don’t change teams on me! I’m depending on you!

B smiled. It was not the kind of smile I was hoping for.

What are you doing smiling with the perv?! Hey, now! Stay away from me!

They both came at me. I squirmed and kicked, but tied up the way I was, I couldn’t put up much of a fight. Let’s be honest: even if I hadn’t been tied up, I don’t exactly excel in the arena of brute force. Of course, being both a swordfighter and a sorceress, I could more than even the odds with my spells, but with a gag in my mouth, I couldn’t defend myself at all.

Guard A grabbed my chin with his very large hand. I wished I could spit.

“Don’t like it, huh? Thought ya were gonna get away with all yer evildoin’ scot-free, did ya?”

What evildoin’?!

“C’mon then.” A pulled me closer to his face…

“That’s enough!” Gourry warned. He was still tied up, but he spoke with such authority that both guards automatically took a half step back. “If you so much as lay a hand on her…”

For one glorious moment, the two guards froze.

Gotta hand it to you, Gourry. That’s some powerful will you’ve got there.

The room was tense—each of us still and silent, waiting to see who’d make the next move. Then…

“Heh,” Guard A smiled, shattering my hopes.

Damn! The great Lina Inverse at the mercy of villains such as these! This sucks.

The worst part was that I didn’t even know why we were being held—or by whom!

“W-we’re not afraid of you!” B said, making an effort to sound like he had a spine.

Your voice is quivering. Nobody’s buying the tough-guy act, jerkface.

“If we so much as lay a hand on her, what?” A asked. “What d’ya think yer gonna do about it? Yer all tied up!”

“If you so much as a lay a hand on that girl,” Gourry repeated calmly.

“You’ll what?” A was laughing now.

“… You’ll catch what she has.”

A stopped laughing. Gourry smiled.

I wished I could kill them all with my mind.

Slowly at first, the two men backed away. Their bodies displayed the physical tension born of Trying Very Hard Not to Panic. They looked like they very much wanted to wash their hands. With scrub brushes. And bleach.

My eyes narrowed to small points.

“I, um…” A was trying to conceal the depth of his horror and he wasn’t doing a very good job. “I think we might just play ‘er safe. Stick to what we know, y’know?”

“Y-yeah, safe is good. I like safe.” There was a pregnant pause, and then they both laughed like it had all been some silly joke. Their laughter resolved in a pair of long, deep sighs.

“What say we step outside?” A asked B.

“Good call, good call. It’s a little moist in here. Wouldn’t want to catch anything, you know what I’m saying?”

Oh, please…

They each shot me a glance as they made their way outside.

“Whew. I thought they’d never leave,” Gourry chuckled.

Grrr!

I glared as I silently crawled over to him, on my belly, like a worm.

“Oh, come on, Lina! You’re not mad, are you? It was the best thing I could think of under the circumstances.”

I ooched closer.

“The important thing is that you’re safe, right? I mean, come on! I saved you! Lina—wait, don’t!”

As hard as I could, I smashed both feet into his face.

I feel much better now, thanks.

“You didn’t have to kick me,” Gourry whined just before pulling my gag out with his teeth.

“No, I didn’t have to, but it was my pleasure! You couldn’t come up with anything better than suggesting I was infectious?!”

“It was the first thing I thought of!”

I glared.

“What was I supposed to do? Let those guys work you over while I thought up something more flattering?”

“No! I mean…” I had to admit he had a point.

“See… ?”

“All right. Okay… well… fine! You might be right—this time!”

That was my version of an apology.

“Is that what you call an apology?” Gourry roared.

Duh. Hold it down; the nutjobs are gonna hear you.

“Seriously Lina, you can tell me the truth: were you raised by wolves?”

“Oh, shut up! Never mind! Let’s just focus on getting out of here, okay? This ought to do it… Bram Fang!”

Bram Fang—in case you’re not familiar with it—is a spell that shoots wind arrows at a target, shredding it, in effect, with air. Well, actually, that might be overstating the case a little. A target would have to be pretty flimsy for Bram Fang to shred it. It would scratch up a human opponent’s skin, but wouldn’t do any damage at all to a person wearing, say, leather armor. The sorceresses who taught me Bram Fang suggested it be used as a molester repellant—and it does come in handy in that regard—but I figured out that if you cast it several times on a single point, it’s strong enough to cut through something like, oh, rough-hewn rope, for instance.

Once I’d freed Gourry, he returned the favor—the old-fashioned way, of course.

“We need to find our swords,” he said as he helped me to my feet.

“Yep. And then we need to find out what’s going on.”

“Agreed.”

We’d arrived in the village—which was situated right on the edge of a mountain range—just the night before. Though the villagers had greeted us with a certain amount of hostility, we honestly hadn’t paid much attention to it.

See, the two of us had been traveling more or less along the Hawk’s Highway, a thoroughfare that had been open roughly five years. We’d kept fairly close to the beaten path, but even so, each time we passed through a village, we got that prickly feeling that meant we were being watched.

It had been the same story in this village, but we’d arrived late and tired, and we weren’t easily spooked, so we rented a room in the first inn we saw.

We ate supper and soon after the Sandman came for us with a vengeance. Next thing we knew, we’d been captured.

“This is the part where you’re going to explain—slowly and clearly—why you were holding us,” Gourry whispered into Guard A’s ear from behind. He was twisting the guy’s arms behind his back as I glared into his eyes.

“Do not raise your voice,” I warned. “If you do—”

“Have merrrrrrcccccy!” Guard A sobbed and shrieked, writhing in pain.

Wow. That was easy.

Guard B, who was on the ground right next to the well, was silent.

Gourry rested a fingertip on the nape of A’s neck, poking him a little bit. “Don’t be such a crybaby,” he said. I think he was embarrassed for the guy. “Hey, now. Your buddy’s not dead or anything. He just fainted, that’s all,” he explained in a tone usually reserved for children.

They were pathetic—make no mistake—but we went ahead and tied them up just to be on the safe side. And also because turnabout is fair play.

* * *

It was dark. The stars in the sky and a sliver of moon as thin as a wire provided the only light. The silhouettes of the townspeople’s homes were outlined against the dim horizon. Not a single light burned in a single window. That meant the villagers were long asleep.

“So, what’s the story? What did you want with us, huh?” I asked.

“Wh-what did we want? The bounty, of course! Ya have a huge bounty on yer heads, ya know!”

Gourry and I both checked to see if the other had any idea where that may have come from. We didn’t.

“Mistaken identity,” I surmised. “Well, probably. I’m Lina Inverse, and this is—”

“G-Gourry Gabriev… or something like that,” A mumbled.

Huh?

I looked to Gourry once more. It didn’t make any more sense to him than it did to me. Well, okay… someone must have committed some evil deed in our names, leading to a bounty to be placed on our heads due to our notoriety. It was only a guess, but it wasn’t something we could ignore either way. “So who put up the bounty, anyway?” Gourry asked “I-I have no idea… b-but the warrant said the reward was only good if’n you was captured alive,” A offered.

Only if captured alive?

That was more bizarre. Who would want Gourry and me so much they’d specify that we had to be captured alive? At any rate, it seemed futile to question those clowns any further.

So I changed the subject. “You took our swords. So where are they?”

“The—um—the village chieftain’s house… th-that’s where we left ‘em, anyway. I think they’re still there.”

Fear had loosened him up, and our man was proving to be quite the talker.

“Great. Where’s the village chieftain’s house, then?”

He didn’t hesitate to answer. Now, if we’d been real villains, he’d have just placed his chieftain’s life in danger. At least we knew what kind of man we were dealing with at that point. He was weak to the strong, strong to the weak, and concerned for his own skin above all else.

Charming…

“All right, thanks then. You’ve been a great help, you toad. Gourry, let’s go.”

“Right.” As Gourry released our former guard, he gave the nape of his neck a short sharp thrust with his fingertip. It was a specialty move and enough to knock him out cold.

Sweet dreams, jerkface.

Leaving the two would-be molesters behind, we followed their directions to the chieftain’s house.

“Be quiet,” I told Gourry, as we approached the home.

“I couldn’t raise my voice if I tried,” Gourry whispered, shaking a little. Breaking and entering always did make him uneasy.

For his part, the old man didn’t seem surprised he had guests. He sat up easily in bed, his lamplight brushing aside the darkness.

“Ah, yes. There you are,” he said, sounding like he’d been expecting us.

We were fairly taken aback by that, to tell you the truth.

“We… we’ve come for our swords.”

The old man gave a slow nod and graciously ignored my stuttering. “They are inside that closet on the topmost shelf,” he said. “Take them and go.”

Gourry searched the closet (of course, I couldn’t have reached if I’d tried) and found our swords right where they were supposed to be.

“But… why?” was all I could think to ask.

“After hearing of your arrival, I ordered that your meal be drugged and you be disarmed and taken into custody. However, as I watched you sleep, I could not help but wonder if there had been some mistake.”

Great minds think alike, old man.

“You do not have the aura of evildoers. While it is true, of course, that there are those in this world who can perform great misdeeds and appear the picture of innocence, they generally have something in their aura to indicate that they should not be trusted.” The old man shook his head mournfully, “You do not.”

“Pull open the drawer below the shelf where the swords were, please?” he instructed Gourry. “Yes, that one. As far as you can, please? Now, take out the paper you find there.”

Gourry did as he was told and then tilted the lamp so that he and I could get a better look at the flyer.

“It’s… it’s…” Gourry and I were incredulous. The document we held was a wanted poster—for us! Worse yet, the reward being offered for three people was more than ten times what you might expect for five.

If we’d killed a king, we wouldn’t have this much on our heads!

And lest there be any doubts as to our identities, they’d included our portraits—of course drawn to make us look like we’d just killed puppies in cold blood and had thoroughly enjoyed the deed. But despite the foul expressions, those were definitely our faces. And below them, our names: Lina Inverse and Gourry Gabriev.

Huh…

What really surprised me, though, was the third wanted person. The three of us had only been involved in one incident together…

Wait, that couldn’t mean… could it?

“Hey, Lina, this guy…” Gourry pointed to the third face on the poster. “I could swear I’ve seen him somewhere before.”

Smart for a zombie, huh?

“Gourry, how the hell do you manage to forget someone with a face like that?” I was genuinely skeptical.

“The bounty was the problem,” the chieftain interrupted. “For that sum, the entire village could live in luxury for the remainder of the year. How could I say to my tired people, ‘I suspect these villains are innocents?’”

That wouldn’t have gone over well. I could see his point.

“There is something else you should know: the bounty is being offered by a man of… well, though I do not know him personally, he is a man of noblest reputation.”

“You know who put out the bounty, then?!” I couldn’t wait to hear this one.

“He is one of the great sages of this age,” the chieftain nodded. “The Wandering Sage, Rezo the Red Priest. Surely you have heard of him, have you not?”

Oh. No. Way.

My jaw was hanging open, and there was no way I could explain it to him.

Even if I’d been willing to go through it again—and I wasn’t—telling the whole story would have taken too long. Besides, if I’d heard it from someone else, I wouldn’t have believed it.

Here’s the short version:

Two months ago—right around the time Gourry and I first met—a certain item came into my hands that a certain group of unsavory fellows had their sights on.

This aforementioned group of unsavories was led by a man bearing the name of the great sage Rezo the Red Priest, and his then-loyal righthand man, the magic-wielding swordsman Zelgadiss.

(There was no doubt in my mind whatsoever that the third portrait on the wanted poster was that of Zelgadiss, by the way.)

After several battles, Zelgadiss betrayed Rezo, but the item fell into Rezo’s hands.

The Red Priest responded by transforming himself into an apocalyptic Mazoku. Sure, you know—what else would he do?

But, in a fearsome battle that nearly destroyed us all—and the rest of the world for that matter—Gourry, Zelgadiss, and I were finally able to defeat the Mazoku. So, long story short-ish: Rezo couldn’t be alive. And since dead people can’t pay bounties, that warrant had to be a fake.

“Well, this warrant’s no longer valid,” I said. “The Red Priest was reported dead two months ago.” Of course, I didn’t add that we defeated him. That would have caused more trouble since Rezo’s true nature was still unknown to the general populace. Most believed him to be a righteous (if not downright holy) man.

“Two months ago?” the old man eyed me doubtfully. “This warrant was delivered only about a week ago. The bounty itself seems to have been declared only one week prior to that. Perhaps there is some mistake.”

Two weeks? Gourry and I looked at each other. Couldn’t be… could it?

“Well, do you know where this Red Priest is at the moment, then?” I asked, wondering if we might be dealing with an impostor.

“I do not.” The old man shook his head. “However, if you truly are innocent, go west to Crimson City. You can ask for more details there, as that is where the bounty is to be paid. It is in Crimson City that you may find the Red Priest and resolve this… misunderstanding.”

I was beginning to doubt that it really was a misunderstanding, but I nodded anyway.

“Misunderstandings give rise to such sadness…” the old man mumbled, sighing heavily as he looked into the distance.

Poor old guy. I wonder what he’s remembering. But we didn’t have time to ponder the chieftain’s broken heart.

“Thank you, sir,” Gourry said quietly. Obviously, the old man had made an impression on him as well.

“We don’t wish to be a bother to you any longer,” I said, offering a little bow. “So if you’ll please excuse us.”

“Of course.” The old man nodded.

And with that, Gourry and I headed for Crimson City.

* * *

By the time we broke camp the next morning, we were famished. We’d been up most of the night, putting as much distance between ourselves and our former captors as possible before closing our eyes again. We kept moving while we ate a late breakfast.

“So what do you think this is all about?” I asked. “I mean, I’m not holding you to anything concrete. But if you had to guess…”

“You mean about Rezo the Red Priest being alive?”

I nodded.

“Well, there’s a few things it could be,” Gourry said, his arms folded.

I followed a bit behind him and allowed him to compose his thoughts. The stone-paved highway stretched out before us as far as the eye could see. Green-covered mountain peaks rose up from the horizon. A gentle breeze blew across the grassy fields. I could hear birds singing somewhere nearby.

Um… hello?

“Gourry… you haven’t thought about this at all yet, have you?”

“Nope.” He smiled brightly as he scratched his face.

Nope?!

“If you never think about anything at all, your brain’s gonna turn into tartar sauce!” I shouted, for reasons that make no more sense to me than they do to you.

“Huh? What’s tartar sauce?” Gourry asked, missing the point entirely.

The zombies are gaining on you, Gourry. Grrr.

“It’s true that there are several obvious possibilities,” I went on, ignoring the question. “The one that makes the most sense is that the Rezo offering the bounty is an impostor. Some of Rezo’s underlings might be using his name to try to take revenge on us for killing his master. That’s on the top of my list of possibilities, anyway.

“Of course, if that were the case, just sullying our names wasn’t going to be good enough; a revenge-seeker would want to destroy us with his own hands—and that would explain why the poster specified that we were to be delivered alive.

“Another possibility is simple incompetence. There was a gap of several days between the time Zelgadiss and I ran away and when we met you again, so Rezo could have told a minion to put out a warrant on us during that time. And then for some reason—maybe government bureaucracy—it wasn’t issued until it was almost two months later—

“No, that’s no good. There’d be no point in capturing us alive…” I was thinking out loud.

“There’s one other possibility,” Gourry said, sounding alarmingly serious.

I looked in his eyes and I knew what he meant. There was one other possibility, my least favorite of all possible explanations…

“Rezo the Red Priest is alive,” I muttered quietly toward the cloudless blue sky. “If that is the case… we’re not gonna win this time.”

Despite my overwhelming desire to slaughter Sir Dork-a-lot in vengeance for his subjecting us to a boring lecture fulleth of “thees” and “thous” and “thines,” we were not murderers, after all, so he and his corny crew would be allowed to live.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to blacken their bodies entirely with ash, however. A girl’s gotta have some fun.

Ever since we left that village, we’ve had more groups of “heroes” trying to delivereth “judgment” every day. And it was still six days ‘til Crimson City! According to my rough calculations, if the number of heroes continued to rise at the current rate, we’d be facing three-hundred-man teams by the day of our arrival.

That would suck.

I tried my best not to think about it. I was feeling as gloomy as a demon as it was.

“Is this our destiny; we, the Eight Silver Knights of the Duchy of Lenos?”

This knight does not know when to shut up.

They still thought we were bad guys—after we’d gone easy on them! If we’d been real bad guys, they would’ve had some serious attack spells coming their way, and they’d be much worse off, but they didn’t look like they could even tell the difference.

I tried to focus on keeping my spirits up by patting myself on the back.

Congratulations, Lina! Once again, you’ve shown the necessary level of mercy so as not to kill any of them. That includes accidental deaths and unbeatable wounds. Yay, you! Lina the Merciful!

Don’t laugh. We have a saying back home: Sometimes a show of mercy is required to smash a boulder. And it’s (rue! You know, there are a lot of powerful and reckless people running around in this world who don’t understand that. I—uh—might have taken a while to really understand it myself.

(Maybe this would be a good time to mention that my older sister back home is a bit calmer than I am, and… no, maybe I shouldn’t mention it. I’m not sure how she’d feel about seeing it in print. Never mind. Move along. Nothing to see here.)

“Lo and alas! If only t’were ten years ago, villains…”

I glared at the yappy guy as I chanted a little spell, Bomb Sprid!

KA-BOOM!

“Dyaaaa!” The seven knights screamed as they were battered by my merciful attack.

Huh? Weren’t there eight? Well, either way was fine, really.

“Una, I’ve been thinking… do you know what the word mercy means?” Gourry was looking at me like I’d just slapped his mommy.

“Of course I do! If I hadn’t shown mercy just now, the only thing left of those seven—er, eight?—would be pieces of flaming armor!”

“Well, sure, they’re still alive, but…” Gourry’s voice trailed off as he watched, with sympathetic eyes, the knights rain back down to the ground.

They were screaming and shouting half-incomprehensible things like, “We’re not ready!” and “Not yet! Not here!” and “Hangeth on, fellows! Do not die!” before crashing unceremoniously back to earth. Some of them even bounced.

Yeah, okay, maybe I overdid it just a little.

“You know, they’re not bad guys,” Gourry reminded me. He sounded tired. “Couldn’t you just…”

I tut-tutted and waved my finger at him. “Hey, I’m using mild attack spells, okay?”

Gourry let out a long sigh.

We didn’t talk much the rest of the night.

* * *

I didn’t toss so much as I twisted and turned, unable to sleep even a wink.

Luckily, even while on the run from the law, we could slip into a large city, get what we needed and lodge in one of the various inns.

But still, for some reason, I had a dull pain in my chest. The feeling had grown stronger over the past several days, most noticeably whenever we were at an inn. I could barely sleep at all, night or day.

In my heart of hearts, I understood the cause.

I thought about Gourry, who was probably still asleep in the next room. It was the first time I’d had this feeling since we’d met.

Maybe he’s still awake?

The pain in my chest grew stronger as I pondered him: Sigh…

I gave up on sleep and got out of bed. Gently, I stroked the cold thin wall that separated our rooms. He had to be asleep. I pressed my ear to the surface, but couldn’t hear him breathe. He’s probably sleeping soundly, so…

“Sleeping!” I got so excited I said it aloud. Why didn’t I think of this before?

With that, I fired my spell through the wall. Not even the cry of a banshee or the roar of a dragon would wake him before morning.

All right!!

Satisfied at last, I smiled and began to dress: white robe, black trousers—check! Bandanna on the forehead, boots, long gloves—check! Dragon scale shoulder guards and my dead-of-night black mantle, plus my short sword on my hip—check, check and check!

Armoring complete!

Hee hee… hee hee hee…

A grin spread across my face. This would cure me of the ache in my chest!

Yes! This is it!

Ever since I’d met Gourry, I hadn’t made time for bandit-hunting. I’d been denying my true self! And simply put, I just couldn’t take it anymore. As one of those knights might say, it was a very foul morning to be-eth a bandit.

I finished dressing and headed to the dining hall where some of the other lodgers were trading gossip about bandit groups operating nearby. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who was getting impatient.

I was able to get a rough idea of where the bandit hideout was, based on what I heard at the inn.

Only a fool runs off to get lost along the way.

I snuck out into the forest under the cover of night and ran along what seemed more like a game trail than a road. There was no mistake, though; I was on the right path.

Before long, I spied red and orange flames coming from the direction of some ruins.

A bandit campfire!

There were a number of them gathered around the flames. They bore scimitars and wore black tunics. They’d been drinking, and every once in a while one of them would whoop it up.

Drunken bandits cavorting around a campfire… nice and original, guys.

No doubt they’d have guards posted not far from the open fire. The ruins behind them looked to be their stronghold.

It would’ve been fun just to charge forward and blow them all away, but using the more powerful attack spells would destroy the ruins and—here’s the important part—bury any treasure inside, out of reach. So the challenge was to lure them out.

I removed my shoulder guards and short sword, wrapping them thoroughly in my mantle. Holding them in both hands with a devotion that might be called religious,

I began to backtrack along the path. Then, taking a deep breath…

“Help meee!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, and I ran as fast as I could.

When all eyes were on me, I performed a spectacular pratfall, landing right between their guards. I never let go of my bundled mantle—of course.

“Help… please… help me!” I whelped, clinging to the closest bandit and breathing heavily.

It seemed the thing to do.

“H-hey now! What happened?” asked the bandit I was draped across. They were all perplexed.

Good.

“He’s coming! He’s—please! I have to get away! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill me for sure, I know he will!” I spat out frag­mented, nonsensical lines as fast as I could come up with them.

The guards looked at each other, trying to decide what to do. They weren’t a decisive bunch. Finally, one blurted out, “I’m gonna take a little look around!” and ran off into the woods.

I was wrapped in the closest man’s arms, shivering weakly and muttering words that were utterly incompre­hensible to normal people.

That is to say, I was muttering a quick attack spell, Mega Brand.

BOOM! A nearby explosion sent a spectacular roar into the air.

“What the—?!” The group fell into a panic.

“It’s him! He’s here!” I called out, pointing toward the trees.

“Where?!” someone shouted.

“Who’s here?!” another joined the chorus.

Quietly, I began my next spell.

“What’s going on here?!” the fellow who appeared to be the bandit leader demanded. A moment later, the rest of the crew from inside the ruins came out to investigate the commotion. I counted ten men.

I continued my havoc-wreaking with the Vice Flare spell.

GA-GA-GAB-SHOOOOON! Fire broke out everywhere, spreading to bottles of booze and causing more explosions.

Nice.

“What the—?!”

“The hell you say…!”

It was beautiful chaos. Having no idea what was going on, the bandits bolted for the woods. Some meant to flee, some meant to fight, but none remembered to stick around and guard their booty.

So… everything they had was mine. Fair and square. You snooze, you lose, losers.

Inside the ruins was indeed a proper treasure chest. It was pretty full, almost the sort you’d expect from a merchant guild.

Hee hee, there’s even more here than I thought!

More than half the bandits had been slain in the process of creating the huge uproar that made the others flee. So I felt pretty secure poking around. I spread out my mantle and began pulling a hemp rope lined with linen out of a hidden pocket. By running the rope along the edge and tying the ends together just so…

Voila! A simple knapsack!

Then it was just a matter of deciding which and how much to take. Cramming everything of value into the sack would make it so heavy that the cord would break. If I got greedy, then I’d lose everything! So, I was looking for the items with the most value per ounce—things like precious jewels, anything with artistic value, magic items…

I was poking through the rubble when an angry voice called out from behind me, “Hey! What are you doing in there?!”

Yikes!

I almost jumped out of my skin.

If the opponent had been a simple bandit, then one attack spell would’ve spelled t-h-e e-n-d. However, I turned around very, very slowly and the face I saw was, sadly, just the one I’d feared.

“Oh, hey! Er, hi there! What a pleasant surprise it is to see you, Gourry! What brings you out this way?” I put my hands to my mouth, making a big show of my surprise. I also blinked a lot. That always helps.

“What am I doing here?” he said, not buying my act for a minute. “I’m trying to find out what you’re up to.”

“Little ole me? Tee hee. Why, it’s a s-e-c-r-e-t.”

“Knock it off, Lina.”

Ulp… Well, if that’s not gonna work…

I stuck out my chest and declared proudly, “I’m bandit hunting.”

“I’m serious! Cut the act, Lina.”

I’m serious, too! What am I supposed to say?

“Forget it!” I sighed. “Let’s get out of here.”

With a mutter under his breath, Gourry grabbed my hand and started yanking me along after him as he walked.

“H-hey, now! Wait! My treasure!” I protested. He wasn’t stopping. “Come on! This is going just a little too far, don’t you think?!”

Gourry continued dragging me behind him along the path back into the forest.

“What’s too far about it?” he snapped, looking at me but not stopping.

Uh-oh. He’s seriously pissed off.

“Running off into the woods—alone—in the middle of the night! Jeez, Lina! What were you thinking! Were you thinking at all?!”

“I was planning for a brighter future,” I deadpanned. “Anyway, what’s wrong with hunting bandits? They’re lowlifes who make their living stealing from other people! If I let them do as they please, who knows who they’ll rob next, what havoc they will surely wreak! Hey—I’m doing a public service, dammit!”

“Oh, right, okay—so this has nothing to do with taking their treasure?” He let out a heavy sigh.

“What am I supposed to do, just leave it there to rot? We don’t know who the proper owners are, so it’s not like we can just return it. If I leave it there, eventually some government is going to get their hands on it, and that’s only going to cause more harm than good. At least if I take it and spend it, I’ll be promoting the local economy,” I pleaded.

“Do you even hear yourself?”

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?!” I shrieked, exasperated. I didn’t ask how he’d shirked off my sleeping spell. Oh, hell no. What was I, suicidal?

“Well, I was sleeping, but then I had to get up and go to the washroom. I heard sounds coming from your room, and by the time I got back to my room, I saw you out the window. You looked like you were using some kind of floating spell to get to the ground. Then you ran off!”

Ah. So that was it. That explained why I hadn’t so much as heard him breathing.

Hmph. Dumb luck.

“In any event…” A voice from the darkness stopped us both cold.

Who said that?

I looked and listened hard. Insects buzzed faintly in the distance. Starlight seeped in softly through gaps in foliage. I couldn’t see or hear anything unusual.

“How have you been?” the voice continued casually. It was coming from deep within a thicket.

Gourry’s hand went to the hilt of his sword.

“I see some things haven’t changed. You lack a certain subtly, you know.” That time it sounded like it was coming from right behind us.

Impossible.

We still weren’t detecting any presence. The two of us mined around, flustered. We were at a loss.

A red silhouette emerged from the darkness… a solitary priest wearing a robe as red as blood. His mantle fluttered softly in the wind. He was hooded, but I could see that both eyes were firmly shut. Even with his face mostly concealed, he was clearly…

“Rezo the Red Priest,” I muttered as I stared, dumbfounded.

“It has been awhile, hasn’t it? You two look rather well, considering,” he said. There was no expression on his face. “Considering how tired you must be. Attacked by assassins day and night. It must be difficult.”

“Yeah. Someone put a price on our heads.” As I spoke, I realized something: even though the form of Rezo was right before us, I still couldn’t sense his presence.

Under these circumstances, even he shouldn’t be able to completely conceal his aura.

“A price? Ah yes, I prefer to think of those warrants as my written invitation. Currently, I am residing in the home of the High Priest of Sairaag.”

Sairaag…

Sairaag was a city about five days’ journey to the north. Though it was now known primarily as a city of magic, it was known as the City of Ghosts for a period after the destruction of the Demon Beast Zanaffar some one hundred years before. The tree, planted by the hero who had destroyed Zanaffar, had grown enormous and was the city’s symbol. The city itself had blossomed as well. But, that was beside the point. How could Rezo be in Sairaag if he was also standing right before us?

“Vision,” I whispered the name of the spell that was used to project an image of oneself over a very long distance, making it possible to communicate over miles; it was a rather convenient spell.

The thing was, Vision required a terminal—which could be another sorcerer—on the broadcast end. In other words, there had to be a sorcerer under Rezo’s command close by “So you’re trying to get us to go to Sairaag, huh?” Gourry spoke up.

“Come, or do not come,” the Red Priest replied. “It is your choice. However, if you do not come, you will simply live the rest of your lives as fugitives.”

“Simply, he says!” I couldn’t help but laugh, bitterly. “I don’t know about Gourry, but that wouldn’t be simple for me.”

“Me either,” Gourry grumbled.

“I will await your company, then. And I look forward to that day when we may consider this matter resolved.” And with that, his form vanished.

Gourry looked to me for an explanation.

“A transmission,” I explained. My voice sounded grave, I’m sure.

“Indeed, it was transmitted!” Another voice called out from behind.

Once again we turned around, flustered, though this time the presence was not elusive or even difficult to perceive.

We faced a single figure, a man of medium build wearing a black mantle and hood, typical sorcerer’s clothes.

He also seemed to have large rubies embedded in the tips of his thumbs, which was in no way typical.

That sorcerer must’ve been the terminal—hiding here from the start, relaying the discussion with Rezo, just as I’d suspected.

I glared at the man. I could tell by his eyes he was third-rate.

“What’s someone like you doing as Rezo’s lackey?” I challenged.

“Cease your prattle, brat,” he barked, then laughed. “The great Rezo need not concern himself with the likes of you. My name is Vrumugun—and as a service to my liege, I shall dispense with you here and now!”

Now, wait just a minute.

After Rezo went to all the trouble inviting us to Sairaag, this guy was going to completely ignore his master’s wishes? It wasn’t that it was sudden; it was that it was sudden and stupid.

This guy’s stupid. Stupid guys are trouble.

“Buzz off, Sparky,” I said, waving my hand at him dismissively. “It’s great that you found us and everything—congratulations—but ‘dispensing with us’ is more than a little beyond your capabilities.”

“I thank you for your kind congratulations, but you were not difficult to find, you know. Like a child, you seem unable to go more than a day or two without causing a ruckus. Your antics out here acted as something of a beacon.”

Oh, excuse me? Did he just call me a child? “You say my abilities are insufficient,” he bellowed. “Let us test that theory!” As he finished, his right hand went behind his back. The next moment…

“Gah!” I swooped forward, ducking under the black object hurling toward my head.

With a dull sound, the trunk of the tree right behind me—which was about twice the thickness of one of Gourry’s arms—snapped in two.

“A chain whip?!” Gourry identified the weapon immediately.

As the name suggests, a chain whip is an inelegant doohickey comprised of a chain and a small weight attached to its tip. As was just demonstrated, it is powerful, but in the hands of an amateur, far more dangerous to the user than a blade.

Vrumugun began casting a spell as he made a series of attacks with the chain whip.

That spell’s rhythm… I recognize that. Fireball?!

Fireball is an attack spell that releases a ball of light, which explodes on impact, spreading flames throughout the area indiscriminately.

What the hell was that guy thinking, using fireball in the middle of a forest?! If the flames got out of control, he’d be on the menu at his own barbecue.

Grrr! Idiot! Incompetent! Reckless!

I began casting my counterattack.

“Fireball!” he shouted, and a crimson ball of light sprang forth from Vrumugun’s left hand.

“Freeze Bullet!” I countered.

We both released our spheres and the two impacted squarely between us.

Shhhhrr-reeeep! There was a loud sound like something being ripped apart, then… nothing.

“What?! What did you do?” Vrumugun pouted like a baby.

Who’s a child now, huh?

The spells’ effects had been mutually negated, a little trick I’d discovered by accident while working on a job with another sorceress.

Let me take a moment here just to make sure you understand that casting a spell of the opposite element is not guaranteed to produce this effect. Depending on how you mix them together, the first spell’s power can instead be greatly amplified. That is to say, just mixing a fireball and Freeze Bullet any old way could end up producing one hell of a fireball. Although researching the effects of combining various spells is an interesting field, it’s far too large a job for any one person, even a super-genius sorceress like me. The sorceress with whom I’d worked on the matter had wandered off on her own a little while before I met Gourry. In any case, it’s an area of specialized research, and average sorcerers don’t know much about it. Vrumugun, for instance, was clueless.

He was so taken aback, in fact, that he was just standing there, not moving.

Gourry took advantage of this slip and knocked the chain whip out of Vrumugun’s hand and high into the air.

“Curse you!” Vrumugun cried and he ran off in a panic. Gourry gave chase.

I began chanting my next spell.

The sorcerer reached behind his back like he might pull something else out, but Gourry beat him to it with a kick to the solar plexus.

“Guh!” The sorcerer’s body folded as he cried out. Then I ended it.

“Elmekia Lance!” I shouted, and Vrumugun collapsed completely.

Elmekia Lance damages an opponent’s mind. When used at its maximum power on a human being, the spell greatly debilitates the victim’s intellect, often causing a shutdown similar to a coma or a very deep sleep.

But I cast the spell at less than maximum power by design. There were things I wanted to ask Vrumugun, and a comatose man wasn’t likely to volunteer answers.

Just as I’d planned, he was flat on his back, effectively paralyzed. He wouldn’t be able to make a physical attack or control a spell in his condition. But he was still conscious.

“If I wasn’t so tired and grumpy, we would try this a hundred times and it would always end with you at my mercy,” I said, gazing down into the sorcerer’s face. “That’s what happens when you overestimate your own strength.”

Gourry stood beside me, on guard and paying close attention. He was ready to pound the Vrumbumpkin into the dirt if he tried anything funny. Because of his support, I was able to concentrate on direct interrogation.

“Who was that guy?” I demanded, with no pussyfooting around.

Vrumugun’s creepy-thin eyebrows rose up in surprise. “What do you mean, who was that? Surely you know Lord Rezo?”

“We… destroyed… Rezo,” I said, speaking slowly, pronouncing each word carefully so as to be understood, “a little over two months ago.”

“That’s just foolishness! If you did so, then who was that before you?”

“I don’t know—that’s why I’m asking you, you moron!” I replied.

At least we knew—for what it was worth—that this idiot believed he was working for the real Rezo.

“You speak nonsense! How could novices like you defeat him?!” He looked almost insulted.

Considering how easily we’d whupped his ass, he had no right to scoff. Novices, indeed!

“Oh really? In exactly what area do you find us lacking?”

Vrumugun looked me directly in the eyes and said, “Breasts.”

I’m not sure precisely how far I sent him flying. Far, I promise you that. Very, very far.

* * *

Gourry and I returned to the inn just as night was changing to dawn. Then we passed yet another morning walking side by side along the highway. We draped a shroud over ourselves as our lazy man’s form of disguise. We were short on sleep, but with our enemy knowing exactly where we were and exactly where we were going, it was best to keep on the move.

Vrumugun, by the way, had finally stopped flying when he collided with a tree. Sure, we could’ve cut him down at the time, but finishing off a completely incapacitated opponent just wasn’t my style.

“So… what do you think, Gourry? About last night’s ‘Rezo,’ I mean.” My question seemed to send him deep into thought.

Don’t hurt yourself there, buddy.

“To be honest, that face… well, it didn’t feel like we were talking with a total stranger, you know?”

I knew. He certainly had a point. However…

“If it’s not him, and it’s not a total stranger, that only leaves one option, right?”

“You mean… a relative of some sort?”

“Okay, well, two options, then. I was thinking that it might be a copy of Rezo.”

“A copy?” Gourry looked at me like I was drunk.

“Yeah, like a clone. You remember all the homunculi from Atlas City, right?”

“Uh, I think I remember,” he said unconvincingly. “No, what are they again?”

Now that Gourry mentioned it, I realized I hadn’t actually explained it to him at all.

“It’s a person who was artificially created. They’re made using human blood; their abilities are exactly the same as the person from whose blood they were formed.”

Actually, clones, golems, homunculi, and various other magically made men were at first created using male bodily fluids, but new methods had been discovered in recent years. Many experiments had been performed with animal bones, distilling essences from different creatures and mixing them with human blood in various proportions.

Anyway, setting aside those strange cases for a moment, it was only important to note that a sorcerer could create with human blood an artificial human that was a hundred percent identical in appearance and abilities to the human who provided the source materials.

As just mentioned, homunculi vary in type and method of production. Although the sorcerers who develop new production methods could invent other names they find suitable. The prevailing sentiment of, “What’s wrong with homunculus?” has ensured that most people still refer to them by the same name.

Complicating matters further, the products of older methods are called smalls, while those of newer experiments are called copies.

Copies, as the newer versions are called, are commonly used for human experiments and as guards (which has raised a number of human rights issues in recent times).

Though their appearance and abilities are no different from those of normal humans, the completed copy homunculus has no will or memory of its own and is otherwise indistinguishable from a flesh golem.

“So, if someone used my blood to create one of them, you’d get a soldier who could fight me to a draw?”

I shook my head.

“The basic abilities—strength, speed, reflexes—would certainly be the same. But homunculi wouldn’t be able to match your skills at swordsmanship or with battle tactics. That is to say, even a duplicate with the same basic skill sets wouldn’t have the same personality, movement patterns, or speech patterns. The homunculus doesn’t have the benefit of experience, so there are limits. It’s not the same as the original.

“Though, I suppose you could copy someone’s speech patterns if you were familiar with them.”

“So you mean that amateur we met last night might’ve created that Rezo?”

I nodded. It was a possibility worth considering.

“Look,” I sighed. “We haven’t had enough dealings with Rezo to tell if that Rezo was a man-made impostor or a close relative. And because the Vision sorcery was being relayed, I couldn’t get a read on his aura, either.”

“But you’re pretty sure it’s a fake?”

“Pretty sure. I mean, even if the real one is alive, it’s not Rezo anymore!” I said, reminding Gourry of the trans­formation we’d both witnessed.

“Yeah,” he agreed. It wasn’t like you could just forget seeing something like that. “So what’s your gut say?”

“Well, it’s just a guess, but I think it’s probably one of Rezo’s minions using a facsimile of the Red Priest to send other minions to lure us to Sairaag. They probably want to avenge Rezo, and, failing that, drag our names through the mud.”

It wasn’t incredibly plausible, but it was the best guess I had.

“Hmm…” Gourry stared into space and rubbed his chin with his hand.

“What? You don’t agree?”

“Hey, I’m allowed a differing opinion. Just because you thought of it doesn’t make it right!” Gourry was getting snarky Oh, yeah? Well, what’ve you got, genius? Nothing? That’s what I thought.

“Fine. But either way, the answer’s in Sairaag.”

“So I guess we’re going to Sairaag,” Gourry sighed.

“I guess we’re going to Sairaag,” I agreed.

Gourry turned toward the faint light of dawn on the horizon and a look of apprehension settled on his face.

* * *

“Glegh!”

That was the sound of Gourry’s fist making hard contact with a man’s solar plexus.

I cast my Elmekia Lance spell simultaneously, putting a different man down for the count.

That was the sixth group of would-be heroes we’d taken on that day.

“This is getting old,” Gourry said, sounding like tedium personified. “Sixth team so far and it’s not even noon… how many of these ‘Allies of Justice’ are we gonna have to fight before we get to Sairaag?”

“Maybe we should improve our disguise? Otherwise, we’re not going to have any strength left by the time we get there.”

“Sounds good, but before that… we’ve got more company.” Gourry seemed as if he didn’t know whether to spit or cry.

“Yeah, I know.” I looked down the highway as I spoke.

The road twisted on a ways before disappearing behind a slightly elevated hill strewn with blue-colored stones. According to the last innkeeper we’d met, we would be able to see the next city once we reached it.

I noticed a small wooded area on the right-hand side of the highway, and some wheat fields. I also saw a row of mountain peaks beyond the hill in the distance.

As I was taking in the view, I detected what appeared to be a single black shadow on both sides of a tree?

No, it was a sorcerer in black clothes, his hood drawn down over his eyes.

“All right, come on out, whoever you are!” I called, as I walked on ahead with a swagger that was probably more accurately described as “an air of desperation.”

“I owe you for last night,” the sorcerer said. He had a young voice.

Eh?

Last night? Certainly we faced a sorcerer the night before, but he was alone…

“Surely you have not forgotten Vrumugun so soon?”

“Um, well…” I raised my eyebrows. Gourry, who was night beside me, did the same thing.

Of course I remembered Vrumugun. I remembered the previous night’s encounter all too well. But this voice… well, he sounded different.

He came closer, and I was able to see his face. It was Vrumugun—definitely him, not just a resemblance.

Besides, who would want to impersonate someone with a name like Vrumugun? Anyway, how could he have followed us?

“I see,” said Vrumugun, sounding disappointed with my answer.

“Jeez! You don’t learn, do you, buddy? Surely you haven’t forgotten how we whupped your butt?”

Vrumugun’s face turned a little pink. “I have not. And today I have brought with me some assistance. Come forth!” he called.

I was going to ask Vrumugun if he knew the phrase “You and what army?” But just as I opened my mouth to speak, his “assistant” emerged from the trees.

“You—?!” I started and stopped, my jaw hanging open in surprise.