Welcome to Vezendi— Have a To-Die-For Stay

Welcome to Vezendi— Have a To-Die-For Stay

Seigram stepped through the doorway, his boots thumping against the floor. At our last meeting, I’d barely managed to beat him through a combination of luck, skill, and the element of surprise. He’d escaped just before I could deliver the final blow.

As if having Zuuma after us wasn’t bad enough, it would be nice if the bad guys we beat could just stay beaten.

“It’s been a long time,” Seigram sneered. “Perhaps too long.”

Gourry leaned in to get closer to my ear. “For a guy we almost killed,” he murmured, “he looks pretty good.”

Seigram was a powerful Mazoku, strong enough to survive Gourry’s Sword of Light. Still, I knew he’d been severely damaged the last time we’d fought. Considering how little time had passed, I wondered why he wasn’t still off nursing his wounds somewhere.

If we’re lucky, I thought, he’s not fully healed yet. Although somehow I doubted he’d come after us if he didn’t have a few tricks up his sleeve.

“The time has come to repay you,” Seigram announced. “With interest,” he added snarkily.

That’s what this party needed—more attitude. Sheesh.

“Is that why you brought your friends along?” I shot. “We’re just the opening act,” answered Dugld—the bald demon with the weird taste in hats—from the top of the stairs. “He wants to take care of you and the blond man himself. Gduza and I are here to kill your companions so they can’t interfere.”

“Is that so?” Zelgadiss growled. I could just make out an eyebrow twitching in anger beneath his scarf. “Those are bold words coming from a low-ranking Mazoku.” “You’re one to talk, Chimera Face.”

He was going to wish he hadn’t said that. Or at least that he’d been a little less… weird about it.

Chimera Face?

“What did you call me?” Zelgadiss snapped. “Try saying that again!”

“I said, ‘You’re one to talk,’ you stone-headed freak.” Amelia looked from Dugld to Zelgadiss, swallowed, then whipped to Gduza. “I guess that means I’m your opponent!”

“Mm,” Gduza drawled. “I shall feed upon the agony of human death.” The creepy crimson grin on her face grew even wider.

“Enough talk.” Seigram spread out his arms as his palms began to glow. “Let us begin, shall we?”

“Hyuu!” Dugld let loose with a creepy war cry as he leapt down the stairs in a single jump. Zelgadiss drew his broadsword from the sheath strapped to his back while quietly chanting a spell.

Though Zel had a decent broadsword, it wouldn’t be much help against an opponent that existed as pure Astral matter—there was no way a normal blade could damage a demon. But I was sure Zelgadiss knew that.

His mantle fluttering in the air, Dugld plummeted toward Zelgadiss, his right hand extended. “Bazu!” the Mazoku cried.

Zelgadiss dove to the side just as an explosion of darkness erupted right where his feet had been. An instant later, Zelgadiss completed his own spell.

“Astral Vine!”

As he released the Power Words, the blade of his broadsword glowed a faint crimson.

“What?!” Dugld cried out in panic as he twisted his body in mid-air.

Zelgadiss leapt after him. As he vaulted toward the air­borne Mazoku, he swung his broadsword in an upward slash.

With a terrible crunch, the two men collided, then landed heavily on a table.

“Not bad,” Dugld said with a snort. He didn’t seem too rattled by the Astral Vine or Zelgadiss’ prowess, but he’d gotten a deep cleft in his strange-looking mantle.

The clothing that a Mazoku wears isn’t just ordinary body covering—it’s actually a part of the demon’s physical form. So Zelgadiss’ attack hadn’t just messed up Dugld’s ridiculous outfit, it had actually wounded the guy.

Unfortunately, the faceless Mazoku just shook out his mantle. The cut disappeared.

“Did I mention my ability to heal any damage done to my body?” Dugld asked in a mocking sneer. “Still, fusing a normal sword with magic; that’s the first time I’ve seen that trick in action.”

I’d heard of Astral Vine before—like Dugld had said, Zelgadiss had used the spell to fuse magic power with his broadsword. It instantly made his weapon effective against an astral body.

“I guess I’ll have to take you a little more seriously.” As Dugld spoke, ten black pebbles appeared and began hovering around him.

Meanwhile, Amelia began her own battle. “Let’s go!” she cried, running at Gduza. Her mouth moved as she recited a spell under her breath.

“Ho ho!” Gduza laughed evilly. “That’s it, come to me!” With her black hair whipping around behind her, Gduza charged for Amelia.

As the two combatants came within attack range, Gduza’s shadow suddenly lurched up off the floor and shot at Amelia. Amelia tried to lunge out of the way, but she wasn’t quite fast enough; Gduza’s shadow managed to reach Amelia’s feet.

Amelia’s jaw dropped as her body froze in place!

Gduza had used a spell similar to Shadow Snap, deploying her shadow for the purpose of magically binding

Amelia from the astral side. Amelia, obviously, was glued to the floor.

“Foolish girl,” Gduza sneered. “There’s no escaping your fate.” She closed in on her prey, her bizarre grin growing wider.

“Elmekia Lance!” Amelia released her spell while Gduza was at point-blank range. The blaze of power screamed between them.

The Elmekia Lance inflicts damage directly to an opponent’s mind, bypassing the physical plane entirely. It can inflict some heavy-duty damage on a Mazoku—if it hits.

“Fool,” Gduza snarled as she shifted with lightning quickness. The magic arrow barely skimmed past her.

But Amelia wasn’t done. “Break!” she shouted.

The Elmekia Lance burst, right next to Gduza’s head.

“What?!” the Mazoku cried. She desperately dove backward, but it was already too late; the shards of the spell bathed Gduza’s body.

It was enough to shake Gduza’s concentration. The shadow binding Amelia vanished, allowing the priestess to jump back.

Amelia had cast a customized, sneakier version of the Elmekia Lance. Rather than acting as a missile launched directly at the enemy’s mind, her version broke apart on command into a cloud of fragments. Only masters of spell mechanics can manipulate magic like that.

The downside to breaking the spell was that it ended up weaker since the spell’s power was diffused over a much wider area. It had knocked Gduza off-balance enough for Amelia to free herself, but the Mazoku was probably as hurt as if she’d stepped in an overly hot shower.

“Ugh.” Gduza snorted. “For a mere human girl, you can be quite insolent!” Amelia took advantage of Gduza’s love of her own voice to chant another spell.

As our friends fought their own battles, Gourry and I prepared to take on Seigram.

The masked Mazoku held a ball of light in each of his hands. When he motioned toward us, the spheres shot straight for our eyes.

I managed to lunge to the side and avoid the light meant for me. Keeping low to the ground, I quickly chanted my first spell.

Gourry, though, decided to charge head-on into the light speeding toward him.

You’d better have a plan, brainiac!

“Light come forth!” Gourry shouted.

A glowing blade of light shot from the empty hilt of his sword. It was Gourry’s Sword of Light, a weapon with the ability to transform the bearer’s will into physical form.

“Haa!” With a furious slash, Gourry cleaved the glowing orb in half. It fizzled with a loud buzzing noise. Gourry paid it no attention—he continued his full-speed charge for Seigram.

I finished chanting my own Elmekia Lance. Unfortunately, it was still too soon to act: I knew Seigram could teleport with his ability to control darkness. If I attacked him right then, he could simultaneously avoid both my attack and Gourry’s.

I figured I’d let Seigram dodge Gourry’s attack by pulling his vanishing act. Then, the moment he reappeared, I’d pound him with my own spell.

And yes—all my plans are that clever.

Lifting his sword high over his head, Gourry swung down with all his might.

But then Seigram did something I didn’t expect—he jumped!

Vaulting straight up, Seigram easily dodged Gourry’s swing. In fact, Gourry looked like an absolute moron as he charged, roaring a fearsome battle cry as he ran right under

Seigram’s legs. Seigram formed another pair of glowing spheres in midair.

“What the—?!” Gourry screeched to a stop, jerking his head around. Seigram used the moment to attack.

CHOOM!

Gourry’s reflexes barely saved him. He whipped around, scattering the balls with a wild swing of his sword. While he was occupied with that, Seigram dropped back to the floor and spun a kick into Gourry’s gut.

Crap! I thought as Gourry flew across the tavern. I released my Elmekia Lance, hoping Seigram was too busy kicking the tar out of my partner to notice.

With unbelievable reflexes, the white-masked Mazoku launched a light from his left hand and deflected my spell in midair.

So much for my big sneak attack.

“Ow!” Gourry grunted as he pushed himself to his feet. He ruefully rubbed his backside.

It could’ve been much worse, that was for sure. My guess was that Gourry had managed to leap backward just before Seigram’s kick had connected. By moving in the same direction as the kick, he’d softened the blow substantially.

“You’d probably be better off staying down,” Seigram called lightly to Gourry. “Or perhaps you’d like me to put you down… permanently?” Pleased with his wit, Seigram cackled.

There was no longer any question in my mind. Seigram hadn’t only recovered from our last fight, he’d actually grown stronger. Not to mention more annoying.

“Come on, rock-for-brains!” Dugld taunted on the other side of the room. He beckoned Zelgadiss closer.

“You’re dead,” Zelgadiss growled, completely uncreatively.

“One!” On Dugld’s command, one of the dark pebbles hovering in orbit around him shot straight at Zelgadiss.

With a slash of his magic-infused broadsword, Zelgadiss easily shattered it.

“So you’re not completely useless,” Dugld commented.

“All right… two!”

Another of the pebbles flew at Zelgadiss, this one approaching at a strange angle. Zelgadiss sliced it just as easily.

“Three!”

Another pebble gone.

While Dugld tried the same thing over and over and expected different results, Zelgadiss slowly pressed forward. Dugld backed away, trying to keep space between them, but eventually backed up against the wall.

Zelgadiss completed his spell. “Goz Vu Rou!” he boomed.

A black shadow rose up from the floor and shot for the trapped demon. It was another spell that targets an enemy’s astral side—if it hit, Dugld would be in serious trouble.

“Not bad!” Dugld called. He sent the remaining pebbles hurtling at the magic shadow.

Thwack! Ping!

Tiny flares of black plasma scattered as the pebbles slammed into the shadow. The collision caused both spells to mutually annihilate. With the pebbles gone, nothing stood between Zelgadiss and his opponent. Zel charged Dugld, swinging his broadsword with all his might.

Dugld took one step backward and vanished into the wall.

“What?!” Zelgadiss cried.

CHUNK!

Zel accidentally buried the broadsword deep into the wood of the wall.

“That was close,” Dugld mocked, his voice emanating from the floorboards behind Zelgadiss. “I thought for sure you had me that time.”

Zelgadiss yanked his sword free and spun around just as Dugld rose from within the floor. The Mazoku obviously knew his way around some sneaky tricks. Either the warding field in the tavern gave him the advantage, or he wasn’t as much of a pushover as his stupid hat implied.

Dugld saluted Zelgadiss. “I see you can chant Goz Vu Rou even while you’re maintaining a magic sword. That’s pretty impressive, freak show.”

The dark pebbles appeared again, orbiting wildly around Dugld’s head. Zelgadiss just charged. “Whatever; it’s your funeral.”

This time, Dugld didn’t retreat—he stood his ground and shot all of the darkness pebbles in one rapid-fire volley.

Zelgadiss whipped his sword around and tried to deflect as many of the pebbles as possible. He batted away most of them, but he couldn’t stop them all; one slammed into his left shoulder while another grazed his opposite leg.

It still wasn’t enough to stop his charge. Before Dugld could even think of defending himself, Zelgadiss plunged his sword into the demon s body. Dugld let out a blood­curdling scream.

* * *

Amelia still had her hands full.

Gduza screeched and lunged forward, closing the distance between her and Amelia. As she ran, her thick hair started acting oddly—it didn’t stream out behind her the way you’d expect, but instead whipped around her shoulders as if strange, otherworldly breezes pushed it.

Then something even weirder happened: the hair extended at Amelia!

Amelia reached out with her left hand and caught a thick section of the demonic hair. Gduza’s smile broadened; the hair wrapped around Amelia’s arm, then tightened with a jerking motion. Something in Amelia’s arm broke with a sickening snap.

Amelia didn’t even flinch. She just slammed her other fist into Gduza’s unprotected belly.

“Elmekia Lance!” Amelia shouted, releasing the spell directly into the Mazoku’s body.

Gduza shrieked in pain. She leapt backward, dragging her hair off Amelia’s crushed arm in the process.

“Y-you stupid human!” Gduza screamed as she staggered back. The spell had definitely done some damage, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. “You would sacrifice your arm just to gain an opportunity to attack?!”

Amelia shifted her feet. “To win a battle sometimes takes a bit of insanity,” she affirmed. “It’s a risk I gladly take!”

Despite the resolve on her face, Amelia was obviously hurting—the sweat pouring down her forehead was proof of that.

“Hmm.” Gduza paused. “Perhaps I misjudged you.” Amelia just ignored her and started chanting her next spell.

“I had planned to kill you slowly while feeding on your fear and pain,” Gduza drawled as she held out her palms. “But it seems I can’t afford to dawdle.”

She plunged her hands into the shadow that she cast on the floor. Her hands disappeared into the blackness up to her wrists.

Amelia shuddered as something suddenly gripped her ankles; she looked down to discover Gduza’s hands emerging from her own shadow.

“Hee hee hee!” Gduza cackled evilly. “It’s time I crushed every bone in your body!” Her hair grew and straightened, dipping into her shadow. Strands crept up like snakes around Amelia’s legs.

Gduza suddenly stopped. Her eyes widened, and she whipped her head up at Amelia.

“Not that spell, you little brat!”

Gduza, apparently, had started to listen to Amelia’s chant—the one for Ra Tilt.

Regarded as the strongest attack spell in Shamanic Magic, Ra Tilt concentrates all its lethal power on a single opponent. The spell inflicts damage from the astral side— which means it can smash the hell out of a Mazoku.

“Damn!” Gduza snarled as she released her grip on Amelia’s legs. Her pale face turned as black as the rest of her body, apparently the first step of her magical retreat.

But she was already too late; Amelia had finished chanting.

“Ra Tilt!”

A pillar of blue flames roared up around Gduza’s body. Before the Mazoku could shriek, the flames engulfed her cringing form.

* * *

Gourry wiped the dust off his clothes. He seemed pretty unbothered, considering Seigram had just kicked him halfway across the restaurant. With a resolute smile, Gourry readied his Sword of Light.

“You’ve changed your style a little since last time,” he explained to Seigram. “Sorry, I’m just trying to get used to it.”

I wanted to tell Gourry to knock off the snide remarks. I was already skeptical about our chances, and goading Seigram into fighting even uglier wasn’t exactly in our best interest.

What frustrated me the most was that we were stuck in close quarters. If we’d been out in the wilderness somewhere, I could’ve used some distance and ended things with Dragon Slave. I knew that Gourry, at the very least, would get hurt if I cast a big destructive spell in the tavern; and hell, if I was really off the mark, I could turn the entire block into a crater. I had to keep a lid on things.

Besides, the Mazoku warding field had probably shifted us into some kind of pocket dimension. I had no idea how it would stand up against something as lethal as Dragon Slave—or if it would keep the real world from feeling the blow.

Since none of my small-scale offensive spells could hurt Seigram much, all I could do was send baby snipes from the side and try to avoid hitting Gourry. The Elmekia Lance fit that purpose nicely.

Gourry charged at Seigram again, and Seigram strode forward to meet him head-on. It proved Gourry’s point— that Seigram’s fighting style really had changed.

Seigram used to stand perfectly still, luring in his opponents, and then teleport himself to a different spot nearby. It was a dirty trick that was, unfortunately, really effective against us. But he hadn’t teleported once since entering the tavern that day—did he think the old idea was lame, or was there something else going on?

Maybe he hasn’t really recovered! I thought. Well… not so much “thought” as “prayed.”

Gourry slashed downward at Seigram. A magic light erupted from Seigram’s right palm and actually blocked the Sword of Light, which, well, sucked. With Gourry’s blade stopped for the moment, Seigram took the opportunity to aim another kick at Gourry’s stomach. But Gourry was ready this time; he brought up his own foot to block.

Seigram pulled back and retreated a few steps. Wanting to keep on the offensive, Gourry pushed forward and swiped low at the Mazoku’s torso. Seigram tried to pull his sword-deflecting trick again by twisting his glowing left palm, but Gourry saw it coming and adjusted his attack to strike Seigram’s arm instead. Seigram still managed to block the incoming blade with one palm while aiming the other at Gourry.

BLAM!

My Elmekia Lance hit the free palm and blasted the magic light into nothing. Gourry was saved, just like I’d planned! And no, the fact that I’d been aiming for Seigram’s head didn’t make the move any less kickass.

The spell surprised Gourry and Seigram so much that they both jumped back. They’d probably forgotten that I even existed.

Unfortunately, my attack didn’t stall them for long; the moment Gourry’s feet touched ground, he sprang for Seigram again. I kept alert for another opening, but I doubted I would get one—the two of them fought too close together for me to get a clean shot. Seigram was also proving to be ridiculously fast, practically matching Gourry blow-for-blow in close combat. Do you know how many people can actually match Gourry blow-for-blow in close combat?

As I watched the fight, trying to distinguish the two blurs, I sincerely hoped that we weren’t completely screwed.

* * *

From across the room, Dugld’s scream hung feebly in the air before dying out completely. Zelgadiss stared down at the slumped body of his foe.

“Fooled ya.” Dugld suddenly lifted his head. The sword was still embedded in his gut, but he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it.

“What the—?!” Zelgadiss jerked back.

KA-BLAM!

An explosion knocked Zelgadiss violently backward. He landed across the room in a pile of furniture, smashing them to pieces as he crashed to the floor.

“That was careless of you,” Dugld said with a chuckle. “Although I should thank you for the blatant opportunity, stoner. Draining the magic out of your sword was simple with it stuck in me like this.”

Dugld nonchalantly pulled the sword out of his belly and tossed it back at Zelgadiss. With that taken care of, he turned to Amelia.

“Nngh…”

Dugld glanced back at the sound. Zelgadiss, breathing heavily, pulled himself from the wreckage.

“Well, well,” Dugld hummed.

Zelgadiss carefully got to his feet. He bent down to recover his broadsword, his legs wobbling a bit under him.

“G-guess I was careless,” Zelgadiss murmured. “I zigged when I should’ve zagged. Hang on a second.” He readied his sword again, his lips curling in a weary but wry smile.

“It appears that I was careless, too,” Dugld remarked as he started stalking toward Zelgadiss. “That blow could’ve easily killed a normal human. But you’re not exactly human, are you?”

“You’re usually the one to remind me of that.”

Dugld raised his arms and stretched out the fingers of both hands. The pebbles of darkness formed around him once more.

* * *

The pillar of blue flame surrounding Gduza vanished. It seemed that the Mazoku herself had either died or managed to retreat—she was nowhere to be found.

Amelia sighed in relief.

FWOOM!

A magic shockwave slammed into Amelia and sent her barreling backward.

“Aaah!” Amelia screamed as she thudded against the wall. With a dull groan, she slid to the floor.

The spot Gduza stood in was now occupied by… Gduza’s head. She no longer had hair, or even a body—the white face with its horrible red grin just floated at head height. An evil cackle emanated from the floating head, followed by the shrill, spine-tingling voice.

“So!” Gduza declared. “You’ve managed to endure my attacks up until now.” As she spoke, a darkness radiated out from her face and slowly took the shape of robes and hair. Soon she had her body back, exactly as it had been before.

“And that spell of yours was rather dangerous,” Gduza admitted. “But the flames only consumed the astral body I shed as a decoy. As you can see, I’ve already restored myself.” She laughed. “You lowly humans should free yourselves from the delusion that you can possibly destroy us.”

Amelia groaned and tried to focus her bleary eyes on the Mazoku.

Gduza’s hideous mouth smiled. “This has gone on long enough,” she drawled. “I’m afraid it’s time you died.”

* * *

Gourry and Seigram’s fight wore on, with neither of the fighters managing to gain the upper hand. My group was definitely in a slump—from what I’d seen of Zelgadiss and Amelia’s battles, we were losing ground and running out of options.

There has to be a way to end this.

I considered rushing to help Zelgadiss (who was bleeding) or Amelia (who was on the floor), but that would still leave one of them high and dry. No, I had to think of something bigger—something that would stop all the fights, once and for all.

An idea suddenly sparked in my brain. What about the warding field? I assumed it isolated us from the real world somehow, but I still had no idea why the Mazoku had set it up. The field was strangely free of miasma; it didn’t seem to be doing anything to power up the Mazoku or power down the rest of us. The only real purpose for it I could think of was sparing the customers of the tavern.

Wait a minute.

Awhile back, we’d fought a group of Mazoku who’d put up a warding field to specifically keep any random people away. The demons had received orders to not harm unrelated humans. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a real possibility—maybe Seigram was also under some sort of order to keep the citizenry from getting involved.

So what would happen if I busted the field?

To start, I had to get rid of the Elmekia Lance I’d just chanted. I fired it over at Gduza, aiming at her blind spot and hoping she wouldn’t see it coming.

Of course, she had no eyes. Did that make all her spots blind spots?

Gduza easily sidestepped my attack. Unfortunately, my sending the Lance drew her attention to me—a slight tactical error on my part.

Without much time to spare, I started chanting Amplification. A faint light glowed from the four talismans

I wore: one hanging at my neck, one at my belt buckle, and one at either of my forearms.

Gduza, approaching me, suddenly halted in her tracks. “Demon Brand?!” she cried.

My talismans weren’t ordinary magical items. Back when I’d first met Xelloss, he’d reluctantly sold them to me for a crapload of money. The talismans, when used properly, can amplify a caster’s magical capacity. The downside to using an amplification spell is that it takes a fair bit of time to cast—but if I could get it off, which I planned to, the results would be impressively kickass.

“Are those the priest’s?!” Gduza exclaimed with stifled panic. “I-I won’t let you do such a thing!” She howled before charging me.

“Keep away from her, Gduza!” Seigram suddenly bellowed. “That was our agreement!”

Gduza halted in her tracks and whipped to the masked Mazoku. “Seigram!”

The pause was all I needed to finish chanting my spell. “Flow Break!”

The area was enveloped in a giant glowing hexagram, a flame burning at each of its points. The hexagram only lasted a few seconds, and then—VMM!

The hexagram vanished, and the world returned to normal. Dozens of people and loads of unsmashed furniture blinked into existence.

There was a slovenly-looking guy hunched over one table, eating like his life depended on it. I noticed an old man, drunk out of his gourd, with his head slumped next to his toppled tankard. The old man skittered from one table to another with a platter in his hands.

Almost all at once, the stunned gazes of everyone in the room fell on us.

I could understand their confusion. One minute, it’s business as usual, the next—a handful of weirdos suddenly appear out of thin air.

“Ugh!” Seigram snarled, none too happy that his warding field had been destroyed. His head angrily darted back and forth as he took in his surroundings.

Sensing the window of opportunity, Gourry attacked. Seigram managed to parry the blow with a new mass of light he formed in his hand.

But Gourry wasn’t through yet. Pivoting around the point of contact between his blade and the magic light, Gourry swung himself alongside Seigram and smashed his hilt into Seigram’s mask!

Way to go, Gourry!

Seigram grunted and staggered backward, his hands covering his shattered mask. His demon buddies each made a snort of complaint.

“What a shame,” Dugld muttered. “We were so close to having them.”

“We have no choice,” Gduza sighed. “Fine. Until next time!”

The three demons turned on their heels and stampeded through the tavern’s entrance. It all happened so fast—our sudden appearance and the Mazoku retreat—that the tavern s customers could only watch in dumb amazement.

We didn’t follow. If we pursued recklessly, we’d get hit with counterattacks, and we’d been hurt enough as it was. Amelia had taken the worst of it.

“Amelia!” I called as I rushed over to her.

She was just regaining consciousness when I reached her. “I’m… all right,” she murmured vaguely. Needless to say, she made an unconvincing argument.

“Just relax,” I said as I crouched by her side. I carefully ran my hands over her, doing a quick on-the-spot medical exam; she had no threatening injuries, but her left arm was definitely broken.

“I’m fine,” Amelia breathed. “I’ll just chant… a healing spell.”

She started mumbling the chant for Resurrection. Resurrection, the most powerful of the healing spells.

You are not fine, Amelia!

“How is she?” Zelgadiss asked. He favored one leg as he walked over to us.

“She’s casting a healing spell on herself.” I looked up. “Zel, c’mere and sit down. We’ll fix up that shoulder of yours.”

Zelgadiss shook his head. “I can heal it myself, thanks.”

I blinked. It didn’t sound like he was playing Mister Tough Guy, but his sentence still didn’t make sense.

“Uh, Zel… I thought you didn’t know healing spells.”

“Just Recovery.” He gestured to Amelia. “She taught it to me a little while back.” Then, closing his eyes, he began his own chanting.

The elderly man with the platter—the proprietor of the tavern, I guessed—timidly approached us. “Uh… excuse me,” he ventured, his eyes nervously running over our group.

I resisted the urge not to wince. Here we go, I thought. “What in the world happened here? You appeared suddenly out of the blue, and then…” The man glanced at the door. “And what happened to the three who barged out of here a minute ago? I’m afraid I’m very confused.”

The man didn’t just look confused, he looked freaked. But what would it matter if I explained everything or not? It wasn’t like the guy would believe me if I told him.

“Oh, y’know,” I said with a brush of my hand. “They had somewhere to be, and wow, look at the time! We’ve gotta get going ourselves!”

The old man went pale.

Maybe it wasn’t the most subtle exit, but hey—it did the trick.

* * *

By the time Gourry, Amelia, and I had made our way back to Radok Ranzaad’s place, it was well into the evening. Zelgadiss stayed at the inn to eat at the tavern and hole himself up in his room for the night.

I glanced over at Amelia as we approached Radok’s gate. “How are you feeling?” I asked her.

She cleared her throat, then thrust her once-broken arm into the air. “Fine!” she announced. “We were defeated because we had little knowledge of our opponent’s strength, but that has been remedied. The next time we meet shall be their moment of reckoning!”

I sometimes wonder why I bother worrying about the girl—she’ll never be down so long as she’s got justice.

The gatekeeper let us in. As we stepped into the house, I heard Xelloss’ voice drift in from one of the nearby chambers.

“Not at all,” he mused. “That wasn’t easy for you either, was it?”

“No no,” a second voice responded pleasantly. “This too is the fate of those who serve their masters.” It sounded like the butler, Mister Raltaak.

I furrowed my eyebrows. Were they having a damn tea party? And since when were Xelloss and Raltaak exchanging niceties?

I peeked into the room. There, at a small marble table by the window, Xelloss and Butler Raltaak calmly played a game of chess.

Okay, now I’m pissed!

I was so angry for a second that I was afraid my head would pop. So while we’d been grappling with Mazoku and trying our best to not die, Xelloss had been hooting it up in luxury and challenging the butler to a board game?! My initial urge was to take that stupid chessboard and cram it down his throat.

“Xelloss!” I fumed. “You stupid prick!”

Shifting in his chair, Xelloss turned a bit to face me. Then he did what he always did—he flashed his little smile. “Why, hello,” he said. “Welcome back, everyone.” GRAGHHRAGHHG!

“My ass!” I shouted. “Do you have any idea what we’ve just been through?!”

Xelloss turned back to his game. “Of course not,” he said, advancing his knight along the board. “And I do believe that’s check, Mister Raltaak.”

“Mmm,” Raltaak intoned. “You’re indeed a fine opponent, Mister Xelloss.”

I couldn’t take it. “BRAINIACS!” I shrieked. “Didn’t you hear me?! I just said the rest of us were almost killed out there tonight!”

“I believe that’s your own problem, miss,” said a flat voice behind me.

I spun around, my eyes blazing with the fires of fury. A familiar figure stood in the corridor behind me: Abel, Radok’s son. He didn’t look impressed.

“Am I mistaken?” he asked. “You ventured out even after agreeing to protect my father. You leave on your own, get into trouble on your own, and then bark at your friend like he’s somehow at fault?” He raised a single eyebrow. “I do believe that’s rather rude.”

For a second, I could only stand there—crazy with rage but still fumbling for words. A fantasy popped into my head, involving throttling Xelloss with Abel’s spine.

Well, maybe he had a point—a lame one, but a point. But he definitely had no right butting into how I treated my team.

“Mind your own business,” I snapped. “And don’t go assuming Xelloss has human rights.” I thrust my chest out, just to emphasize to Abel that I wouldn’t take his crap.

Gourry and Amelia, standing on either side of me, nodded their support. Xelloss just examined his fingernails.

“Besides,” I went on, “I already told everyone that Zuuma would come after me first. Do you have some kinda problem understanding the language, pal?”

My words caught Abel off-guard for a second. Slowly, concern spread over his face. “Wait a minute,” he said. “You mean you fought with Zuuma tonight?”

I paused. I could feel my tools for smashing his moral high ground slipping between my fingers. I really, really wanted to lie.

But I stuck with the truth; his father, after all, was our client. See? I can be ethical, stupidly ethical, ye of little faith.

“No,” I admitted quietly.

Abel immediately perked up. “Ah,” he said with all the humility of the aristocracy. “I didn’t think so.” He made a big flourish of brushing back his hair.

Great, I thought. And he’s an Alfred wannabe!

“What I meant to talk to you about,” Abel went on, “was whether or not this Zuuma fellow really is after you and my father.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or is something else going on?”

I didn’t like where he was going. “What?” I asked slowly.

“I’m beginning to doubt that letter we received was actually written by Zuuma. My father is a wealthy man— I think someone else has an eye on his purse.”

Is this jerk thinking what I think he’s thinking?!

“To clarify,” Abel said with a nasty little sneer, “I think someone short on cash picked my father as an easy mark, then signed a letter with Zuuma’s name.” He snorted. “And specified in the letter that they themselves ought to be hired as protection.”

GRR!

“Wait a minute!” I fumed. “Are you accusing me of—”

“Miss Lina,” Amelia quickly interjected, gripping my shoulder to hold me back. She sent a hard stare in Abel’s direction.

“In other words,” she said evenly, “you’ve come here to tell us to leave, is that right?”

Ruffled by our anger, Abel sniffed and turned his nose up. “I’m rather delicate,” he explained sourly. “The mere thought of sleeping under the same roof with the unrefined worsens my mood.”

GRRRRRR!

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Did prissy boy want a fight?! It took everything I had, along with Amelia’s firm grip, to keep me from pounding the guy into a prissy little pulp. Hell hath no fury like a pissed-off Lina Inverse!

“Well.” Abel irritably brushed a hand through the air. “Since you brought it up, yes—I’d like you all to leave at once.”

“SILENCE!” a voice boomed through the corridor.

Everybody (sans Xelloss) abruptly turned. Radok had appeared in the doorway, glaring at his son.

“Abel!” he roared. “This is unforgivable!”

Abel practically jumped—probably from the sheer volume his dad could reach. “Father!” he cried. “I was only thinking of your welfare. You can’t discount the real possibility that these ruffians are frauds?”

“And if they’re not frauds?!” Radok demanded. “If I am indeed in danger, are you better suited to protect me than they are?!”

Abel blinked. “But—”

“Enough!” Radok snarled. “Keep your mouth shut, Abel!”

Slumping his shoulders, Abel clicked his tongue and dropped his eyes to the floor.

Way to go, pops!

While I resisted the urge to flip off Abel for good measure, Radok shifted his gaze to me.

“And you,” he snapped. “Heading out on your own on this of all days! You couldn’t at least get my permission first?”

I furrowed my eyebrows at him. “I didn’t just ‘head out,’“ I retorted. “I told your butler here. He said he’d pass on the word.”

“And so he did!” Radok scowled. “But that still doesn’t mean I permitted it!”

“Look,” I said darkly. “I explained this to you earlier. What Zuuma wants—”

“Is to go after you first, you said that! But whatever the case, you are now formally in my employ. I shall not permit your leaving the mansion of your own accord!” GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

I could see there was no reasoning with the guy. The very fragile grip I had on my temper was slipping.

Easy, Lina, I warned myself. Remember who’s giving you money. Just think of the shiny, soothing money.

Sensing I had nothing by way of a reply—and maybe seeing my eyes glaze over as I frantically fantasized about money—Radok snorted. “I’ll let it pass this once,” he muttered. “At any rate, supper is being prepared; someone will show you into the dining room once it’s ready.”

He turned, then paused to dart his eyes at Abel. “Abel!” he ordered. “Come!”

Having said his piece, Radok stomped back down the hallway. His son followed obediently, right on Radok’s heels.

I waited until I was sure they were out of earshot before kicking a wall.

* * *

A short while later, a squat-looking maidservant showed us into the guest dining room where a full-course meal awaited us. I still hadn’t calmed down, though, and ended up taking out my aggressions on my innocent lamb steak.

“What the hell is up their butts?!” I snarled in between hacks and slashes. “There’s been nothing but attitude ever since we got here!”

Fortunately, Amelia, Gourry, Xelloss and I were the only ones in the room; Radok and Abel ate elsewhere. The hostility that had sprung up between our two camps would’ve made dining together worse than dungeon torture. I’ll admit that the steak and salad were tops, but neither did much to settle my temper.

By the way, I’d already filled Xelloss in on our showdown with Seigram and the Mazoku toadies. I always get the facts out of the way before my really big rants.

“Why is Radok so damn determined to be a jerk after we agreed to protect him?” I asked the room. “Is he too much of a pompous bastard to know how wrong that is?”

“Well,” Gourry offered dully, “maybe he’s not thinking straight ‘cause someone’s trying to kill him.” “Duh!” I exclaimed. “I understand that, Gourry!” Gourry frowned a little, then went back to his broccoli.

“Seigram’s attack had nothing to do with Radok,” I said. “And it definitely had nothing to do with that idiot Abel, either. They think that gives them the right to be asses about the whole us-almost-dying bit.”

“So it’s okay as long as you understand?” Gourry asked as he chewed. “Yeah, Abel’s a jerk, but it’s not like we can do anything about it.”

“I understand that, too!” I yelled. “I’m just trying to blow off some steam here!” I thrust a forkful of broccoli into my mouth, then chewed with fury.

“It’s not that we don’t understand how you feel,” Xelloss said in his typically even tone. He cut the chunks of carrot in his stew into even smaller pieces, like a kid or a geezer might. “According to what you said earlier, Seigram and Zuuma have a history only with you and Mister Gourry. There’s no connection between them and Miss Amelia or Mister Zelgadiss.”

I paused from hacking at my meal to glance up at him. Gourry just gnawed on his meat.

“In spite of that,” Xelloss continued, “both Miss Amelia and Mister Zelgadiss became involved in your confrontation today, and both ended up injured. That’s pretty embarrassing, isn’t it? And then getting lectured by your new boss.” Xelloss shrugged. “It’s easy to see why you’re so ruffled.”

I glared at Xelloss, wondering where the hell he got all his gall.

“Hey,” I shot, angling my knife in his direction. “You’re not helping.”

Xelloss flashed me his little smile. “Perhaps not,” he agreed. “Although perhaps complaining loudly to your friends makes you feel better?”

I replied by jamming my spoon into my stew. Stupid Xelloss, I thought as I angrily slurped broth.

After a few minutes of silent eating—well, silent except for the loud scarfing noises—I looked over at Gourry. There was something I’d been meaning to talk to him about.

“Gourry?” I asked, hoping I could get his attention. “Mm?” he mumbled, slurping from his plate of pasta. Just say it, Lina. Since when does he ever pay attention? “Actually,” I began, then paused. “I’d like you to, well… keep me company tonight.”

I heard a couple of utensils drop onto plates. Amelia gasped. “Miss Lina!” she cried. “That’s very… direct of you!” “Ah,” Xelloss sighed, his smile taking on entirely new levels of creepy. “It seems that spring has finally arrived.”

I spat out my stew. “Hey!” I choked as I wiped my mouth. “That’s NOT what I meant!” I whipped my head to Gourry, but he’d already gone flush. “Why are you blushing?!” I shrieked.

“Uh…” Gourry scratched his head uncomfortably. “Well, when a man and a woman love each other very—” “NO!” I made sure to cut him off before he said ANOTHER WORD. “I meant I wanted to get in some extra sword practice! What is wrong with all of you?!” Amelia knitted her brow in puzzlement. “Huh?”

Xelloss raised an eyebrow. “Non-euphemistic sword practice?”

“YES!”

Amelia and Xelloss exchanged disappointed glances.

Gourry frowned. “But that’s not like you,” he said. “Why do you want sword practice all of a sudden?”

I put down my spoon. “It’s true that I’m not really into all that blood-and-guts swordplay stuff,” I admitted. Then, turning up my nose, I added, “I don’t actually like it much at all.”

Amelia also put down her spoon. She’d stopped eating her chunky tomato stew at “blood and guts.”

I sighed. “It’s just that I can’t track Zuuma’s movements. I’m left on the sidelines to watch you fight him, which is stupendously lame; I would help, but it goes without saying that the bastard would skewer me in hand- to-hand combat.”

Xelloss nodded as he sliced up the chicken on his plate. “That’s certainly true,” he agreed. “Although I’m not sure a bit of extra training is going to help you, Miss Lina. Zuuma is a formidable opponent and one certainly impossible to beat on your own.”

“Which is why I’m asking for help from someone else. I think it’s at least worth a shot.”

Xelloss shrugged.

I jabbed into one of the heated serving trays with my fork and captured a steaming pile of fried potato slices. “Attitude is everything,” I declared, holding up the fork like our team flag. “And nobody has an attitude to match Lina Inverse’s.” I triumphantly shoved the potatoes in my mouth.

And spit them back out as they burned the inside of my mouth.

HOT HOT HOT HOT!

* * *

The next day, Gourry and I went out into the city together—after getting stupid Radok’s stupid permission. The man was reluctant to let us go, but with Amelia and Xelloss staying behind, he finally relented.

It wasn’t like Gourry and I were out on a pleasure stroll. We had real business to attend to, namely fixing the shoulder guard that Zuuma had smashed.

I just can’t keep nice things, can I?

I’d initially bought the guard back in Saillune during one of our previous travels, but Vezendi didn’t have the sorcerer resources of Saillune. There were probably only a few places in the entire Duchy of Kalmatt that could handle magical repairs. After talking to a number of merchants, we came to discover that there was only one tiny shop that traded in magic items in the whole of Vezendi. It was our best bet, so off we went.

The shopkeeper at the magic store turned out to be a toothless, white-haired old woman with plump cheeks and a patch over one eye. She inspected the shoulder guard with her good eye and creaked out a judgment we weren’t happy to hear:

“There’s no way in hot hell I can fix this ugly thing.”

I threw up my hands. “Great,” I spat. “This wasn’t a giant waste of an afternoon.” It was obvious that, for all the magic items for sale in the musty shop, the old woman herself wasn’t exactly a sorcery expert.

And she knew nothing of taste. My shoulder guards are awesome!

“What about a regular blacksmith?” I asked. “Could he patch it up?”

She shook her shrunken head. “No blacksmiths ‘round here can work with this material, dearie.” Her eye rolled to one side, as if she were remembering something.

“Actually,” she added, “this’s happened before.” She passed the shoulder guard back to me. “A sorcerer much like you came in here, wanting to get a breastplate repaired.”

“So what’d you tell him?”

“I accepted the job,” the old lady said with a shrug. “But no matter how much I begged the nearby smiths, they refused to help with the repairs. I ended up using a lead- and-iron plate to patch the hole in the armor. When the sorcerer came back, he said he couldn’t wear something that heavy and didn’t pay me a thing.” The old woman shook her head and snorted in disgust.

I rolled my eyes. Well, yeah. I thought. I would’ve been pissed, too.

“It’ll be cheaper to replace the shoulder guard. If you really want it repaired, I’ll have to order the replacement parts from the outskirts of Saillune. That could take two or three months to ship—and it won’t be cheap.”

“Mm,” I murmured half to myself as I folded my arms. “Figures.”

While the two of us discussed the issue, Gourry took the opportunity to look around the shop. I noticed him stare with childlike interest at all the magic items, turning them over one by one in his hands.

“By the way,” the woman added. “Are you a traveler? I haven’t seen your face around here before.”

“I’ve been known to wander, yeah.”

She propped an elbow on the counter. “Then maybe you should just travel to Saillune to have this repaired? That would save you time and money.”

“Maybe,” I replied with a pained sigh. “But I’m pretty much stuck here for a while. I’ve been hired by Radok on private business here in Vezendi.”

“Ah!” she piped, a cheery glint in her eye. “Yes, yes! So you’re the one Mister Radok was looking for.” She clapped her hands. “That’s right, you said your name was Lina.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Ah!” The woman leveled her eye at me knowingly. “So, I’m sure Mister Radok has been treating you well?” What do I say to that?

How that obnoxious, bony-assed jerk had gotten to be so respected around Vezendi was seriously beyond me. I pushed the angry thought aside and instead asked the old woman for any details she had on Radok.

“His father was an accomplished merchant,” she said, rubbing the whiskers on her chin. “But, how do I say this… he wasn’t the most pleasant fellow to have around.

“But Mister Radok.” The woman smiled broadly. “Now, he may be blunt, but he’s definitely good-natured.”

Uh, no, he isn’t.

“He’s not the businessman his father was, but he seems to enjoy traveling a great deal.” The woman paused to scratch her eye patch. “One could also say he’s a very private person, though. Of course, all the money in the world won’t help you if you’re a disagreeable fellow.” She peered up at me, flashing her crooked teeth. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Ugh. Not only was she rambling, she was getting more and more incoherent by the second. I had to put my foot down—fast.

“Right,” I agreed, trying to sound sincere. “Anyway, Mister Radok asked us to do a little favor for him.”

Notice, boys and girls, how I said “Mister Radok” so I wouldn’t upset the old lady. Taking up my shoulder guard, I waved for Gourry to make for the exit.

“Well,” I said cordially. “Sorry for taking up your time, but I can’t divulge any details about my business with, um, Mister Radok, since it involves guard work. But thanks for your help.” I took two steps back toward the entrance. “I think I’ll just buy myself a new shoulder guard.”

“In that case…” The old woman tapped a gnarled finger on her lips and thought to herself for a moment.

I barely managed to keep from bolting for the door. I’m polite to the elderly, but there’s only so much time I can waste.

“I do have an interesting enchanted shoulder guard in stock,” she said at last. “I can fetch it, if you’re interested. It’s made of Raja bone shavings.”

I froze. “H-huh?” I blurted, my wide eyes fixing on her. “You mean three-eyed-dragon Raja bone?”

Armor made from Raja Dragon bone shavings is especially prized for its lightness, and is favored by more than a few impressive warriors. But because no Raja Dragons had been sighted in a long while, new supplies of such armor had petered out, and older pieces had become painfully rare. To find something like that in a little Vezendi magic shop was such an incredible stroke of luck that I just about fell over.

“But, uh,” I stammered, trying to keep calm. “Isn’t that expensive?”

“Not at all,” the old woman replied. “I’ll sell it to you cheap since all ten previous owners died under mysterious circumstances.”

So it’s CURSED. Thank you, old lady!

“Right,” I said sourly. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Oh?” the woman asked. “Then how about leather armor made from stretched Wai Pan wing? That’s a different sort of dragon, and it’s got a jeweled amulet embedded in it.”

I won’t get into it, but that was something else I definitely didn’t want. I wondered what other winners the woman kept stashed in her basement.

She thought for a second, then thumped her palm on the counter. “Ah!” she exclaimed brightly. “I know! I bought something a little while ago from a traveler, but I’m not really sure what it’s made of. Would you like to take a look?”

I sighed. “Sure,” I said. It’s not like my time has value, I silently added.

The old lady rummaged through the shelves behind her, then through a narrow aisle crammed with all kinds of crazy crap.

“Here we are!” she called at last. She hobbled back with a pair of black shoulder guards in her hands. “What do you think?”

The guards looked like they’d been made from the scales of a giant turtle, but they didn’t feel like turtle scale. They had the texture of unglazed black earth, and both pieces had gold trim and an embedded jeweled amulet.

The guards honestly weren’t much to look at, but they felt surprisingly light in my hands. The workmanship was top-notch; they were solid, if dull, pieces of work.

“How much?” I asked.

The old woman waved her hand. “Peanuts,” she replied. “Since I’ve got no idea what they’re made of.” Score!

My intuition was clear—I needed those guards. Still, I wasn’t going to let the woman know how much I wanted them, so I had to play it cool.

“Hmm,” I said nonchalantly. “It’s better than the leather, but… not knowing what they’re made of sounds pretty sketchy.”

The woman looked at me shrewdly, her good eye squinting. She smacked her lips.

I knew that look: it was a call to war. The woman had seen her share of haggling battles. I rolled up my sleeves, matching her sharp glare. She spat on her hands and rubbed them together.

Gross!

The woman proved to be a fierce haggler, so the fight wasn’t easy. In the end, though, I left the shop pleased—I’d snatched up the shoulder guards for less than I’d expected to pay. I made sure to put on as innocent a face as I could as we left the old lady’s store.

“That wasn’t such a bad time, was it?” I asked Gourry as we walked down the street.

He mumbled some sort of incoherent reply. I glanced up at him; to my surprise, he looked really exhausted.

“Gourry?” I asked as I furrowed my eyebrows.

He shrugged. “I guess I’m regretting coming shopping with you a little,” he admitted after a second.

“I guess being stuck in a magic shop is pretty boring for you, huh?”

“No, that’s not it. I just…” His voice trailed off into a sigh.

The road took us up a hill, giving us a wide view of Vezendi against the setting sun. Gourry gazed thoughtfully out at the city, the entire expanse steeped in the evening’s ruddy glow.

Man, was it already sunset? All the chitchat and price haggling had taken awhile.

“A-anyway,” I offered, throwing him an apologetic smile. “What now? Go visit Zel, maybe?”

“Nah,” Gourry replied. “It’s already gotten too late in the day. Besides, if we’re late getting back to Radok’s, he’ll probably throw another tantrum.”

Blech. I almost forgot.

“You’re probably right,” I muttered. After a moment, I looked up at him again.

“You remember what I said earlier? I’d appreciate some sword practice after supper; I could sure use the help.”

“Sure. Oh, about that.” Gourry’s lips tightened and his eyes narrowed, as if he were debating whether or not to say something.

“I wasn’t sure I should tell you this, but…” He took a breath. “When you get attacked from the front, you dodge to the left an awful lot. You should probably get out of that habit.”

Habit? It’s a habit?

“I do?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

Oddly, I’d never noticed that about my fighting style. But that’s why they call them “habits,” right? Because you don’t notice yourself doing them.

“You got it,” I said, flashing him a thumbs-up. “I’m all for that.”

* * *

After our sword practice that night, I was all for my bed.

I retired to my bedroom—the one on the second floor of Radok’s house—and collapsed on the comforter like a ton of overworked bricks. I could barely lift my arms, and pretty much every part of my body hurt.

I’d also come to discover that I sucked at sword fighting. Angrily cursing myself, I rolled my face into my pillow and groaned at the world.

Gourry was right. I did dodge to the left—and I did it all the time. My moves were predictable and lame. And although Gourry and I had only used slender wooden sticks for practice, he’d whacked me over and over again. Those sticks may seem harmless at first, but try getting hit a dozen times. I ended up with bruising all down one side.

Not only that, but because I’d consciously tried to change up my dodging style, I’d pulled and strained muscles I didn’t normally use very much. Getting out of the post­practice bathtub had ended up as a painful, tearful test of my willpower.

And my self-esteem had taken just as much of a beating. I closed my eyes against the pillowcase. Just let today be over, I prayed. Let me sleep, and when I wake up, today will be over…

Swish! Tink!

I bolted upright and leapt from the bed. Something had made a noise outside my window.

For a second, I wondered why I felt more stiff than achy— before I noticed the pitch black through the slits in my window shutters. I’d probably passed out for hours just after hitting the sack Extending my stiff elbow as silently as possible, I reached out for the sword sitting on my bedside table.

From what I could sense, there was no mistaking who was out there. So the bastard had finally arrived!

“I know it’s you,” I told the window lowly.

There was a pause, and then Zuuma spoke clearly in the night.

“Indeed,” he intoned.