40. The Pursuers, Once More (7)
A narrow trail wound its way down the brush-covered mountainside. At a glance it looked like any common dirt road, but it was in truth the remnant of an empire that had perished centuries ago — the gravel, clay, and crushed stone buried deep beneath the soil were proof enough of that.
The road stretched south past Longville all the way to Southharbor in the Ridbern region, and north through the royal capital to Ealscastle in Baden — and two men were watching it in silence.
Of the two, the man draped in a black cloak — Tobias — was first to speak.
"Looks like they were hit."
He was talking about the messenger. The man had climbed up along the trail carrying orders: the ambush is finished, come down and rejoin us.
He had set out around noon, and now the sun had sunk to shoulder height with no sign of his return. What that meant was obvious.
"……So it seems. Regan and that slippery bastard must've bought it too."
Randall, the mercenary leaning on a long spear, stood with his weight shifted onto one leg, glaring down the far end of the trail — the exact point where the wide, open hill ended and the dense brush and steep slope began.
"How many did you say they had?"
"……How many? Regan's crew, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Twenty-two, twenty-three. Somewhere around there."
"And their skill?"
Randall furrowed his brow for a moment, recalling Regan and his men.
"Matt and Iltaen are decent hands with a crossbow. Regan's stronger than he looks. The rest can hold their own in a fight."
Tobias rested both hands on the pommel of his longsword and sank into thought.
If we assume the ambush was discovered the moment the fire went up, then in under half an hour, twenty veteran mercenaries were wiped out to a man.
While the young man sat in silence, Randall spat on the ground and scowled.
"But fuck's sake, what're you screwing your face up for? Weren't you supposed to have a plan?"
"Just lost in thought for a moment. There is a plan, so don't you worry your head."
"……Worry? Ha. Are you saying that to me?"
Randall growled for a good while, but when Tobias didn't so much as glance his way, he ground his teeth and pressed on.
"You think I'm scared? Huh? I'm just double-checking what we agreed on."
"……'Checking,' you say?"
"That's right. Like we settled beforehand — we've got no intention, none whatsoever, of taking on the Fire Witch. Least of all in terrain like this."
With that, Randall spread his hands wide at the surroundings. The low hill, all but bare of trees, was effectively open ground. Perfect terrain for a mage to work her art.
"You know what that means? If you people don't deal with that bitch, we turn tail and run on the spot. That's the agreement."
"No need to worry on that count. We'll deal with the Fire Witch ourselves."
"And I've no intention of facing the Bloodstained Swordsman and the Red Bear at the same time, either. If that pair goes berserk together, half our boys end up dead."
Tobias stroked his thick left forearm and nodded.
"Leave that to us as well."
"……Hmph."
Randall, nostrils twitching at the flat, resolute answer, picked a fight purely for the sake of it.
"By the way, damn it — those bastards ARE coming back, right? How long are we supposed to sit here waiting?"
"They're here."
"What?"
"I said they're here. There."
At Tobias's jerk of the chin, Randall's head snapped around. At the far end of the trail, a man was trudging out of the brush.
Uncommonly tall, with shoulders spread broad — a cold-featured, sharp-eyed handsome man. It was Phoenix.
He wore scale armor lined with wolf pelt and a steel helm with a long nasal guard. Slung over his shoulder was a round shield with three or four crossbow bolts jutting from it, along with three javelins — and his entire body was caked, layer upon layer, in blood.
Randall, whose eyes had been snagged by the man for a moment, quickly swept his gaze over Phoenix's surroundings. But look as he might, Phoenix was the only one who had emerged from the thick brush.
"……Why's he alone? Where's the rest of them?"
While Randall muttered, Tobias held his silence.
Is he playing some kind of game? This just became a headache. Toward the two frowning men, Phoenix walked forward at an unhurried pace.
He was smiling from ear to ear.
As I walked, I put on a leisurely smile — and while I was at it, I swept my eyes over the surroundings, quick and sharp.
Only two figures in view.
Two men barring the narrow path.
Randall, armed with chain mail and a long spear, and the black-cloaked young man who looked somehow familiar.
My eyes were fixed on the pair, but my nose and ears were busy sensing other enemies.
A faintly nutty body odor, the smell of weapon oil, tiny whispers, the rustle of grass brushed aside — the air in every direction was thick with them. Below the gentle slope hidden from view, a good number of men were surely lying in wait.
……Well then. This place is simply dripping with killing intent.
I stopped about thirty meters from the two men and spoke.
"Did Doyle send you?"
"……Who?"
"I'm asking whether Doyle sent you. The second son of Count Tristan."
Randall, who had been frowning, shortly burst into a hollow laugh.
"Ha. So you've made an enemy of Count Tristan too, have you?"
……That's an odd reaction?
"What are you on about? Didn't you come here on Doyle's commission?"
"The one who paid us is standing right here."
Randall pointed at the young man beside him and grinned.
"And from the look of you, if we lop off that head of yours and present it to the Count's house, we might just turn an unexpected profit. Much obliged for the tip."
Had I called it wrong?
……Come to think of it, it had only been two days since Doyle slunk out of Longville in disgrace. A tight window indeed, to contact these mercenaries and hire them to kill me.
I shifted my gaze to the young man.
A clean-cut man about my age, draped in a long cloak with a straight longsword at his hip.
Then the sword hilt showing between the cloak's folds caught my eye — the pale-green jewel set into the pommel was faintly breathing out mana.
A magic sword, by the look of it. I'd have to be careful.
"So you're the employer?"
"That is correct."
"Really. Then why are you after us?"
The black-cloaked young man gave a small shake of his head.
"I believe there's been some misunderstanding. We never had any intention of targeting you, my lord."
"……What kind of bullshit is that?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. We have no intention of attacking you, Sir Phoenix."
"Then why's that Regan fellow or whatever hiding out there? Planning a surprise party?"
"It was part of an effort to secure the 'high ground' ahead of negotiations."
"……Negotiations?"
"Yes."
I sneered at the young man's confident reply.
"Then how about you start by telling me who the hell you are?"
"If you wish."
Of the two hands he'd had resting on his hilt, he used the right to rummage inside his breast. I tensed up a little — but what the young man drew out was, of all things, a parchment scroll.
"My name is Tobias. I am one entrusted with the authority to pursue, investigate, and apprehend criminals by seven judges — among them His Excellency Duke Kingsley, High Judge of the royal capital, and Duke Jeremia of Marba."
"……What?"
"This certificate sets out the details of my authority, and the signatures of eight judges, Duke Kingsley included, attest to its contents. Accordingly, I respectfully request that you, Sir Phoenix — a knight — extend your cooperation to my enforcement of the law."
I watched the man rattle on for a good while, then opened my mouth.
"So. You're an official — no, a bureaucrat, then?"
"If you insist on precision, I hold a position equivalent to one."
"So? What exactly is this position of yours?"
"As I stated, by the authority of eight judges, Duke Kingsley among—"
"Oh, for fuck's sake—"
Just as the young man opened his mouth to prattle on again, Randall — silent until now — spat a glob of phlegm and exploded.
"Just say you're a bounty hunter and be done with it! Why the hell are you stringing words out like that?"
"……Bounty hunter?"
I crossed my arms, and the young man's eyebrows twitched as he shot Randall a sidelong glare. Randall, entirely oblivious to that look, grinned on in high spirits.
"That's right. You've heard of the 'Black Wolves,' surely? The man-hunters led by 'One-Eyed Dirk.'"
"……That will be quite enough."
"Oh, right — I hear the leadership's changed since. What was the name again? 'Ashur'?"
"Damn it all, can you not keep that mouth shut?"
……What is wrong with these idiots?
Having finished his brief bickering match with Randall, Tobias turned his gaze back to me.
"Ahem. Forgive me, my lord. I've kept you waiting."
"Drop the high-and-mighty act and tell me what a bounty hunter wants with me."
Tobias frowned in irritation, then spoke in a flat tone.
"Erenar Radakalin. Hand her over."
……So that was it. When he said bounty hunter, I wondered — turns out they're after Ellen.
"Who's that supposed to be?"
"Your companion, my lord. The Fire Witch. Ellen."
"Oh, Ellen? What about her?"
"She is a heinous criminal who murdered her own master to steal a treasure. She must duly face judgment."
"She was framed."
"Framed, you say?"
"That's right. Go back to whoever put up the bounty and tell them this: I'll show them proof of the frame-up soon enough, so they can sit tight at the palace and wait like good little children."
Tobias let out a dry chuckle.
"Spare me the nonsense, my lord. The palace mages expect her to return at once and clear her name in person."
"That's what a handful of mages want. The ones latched onto Galnar's teat."
He clearly had no clue who Galnar was. Well, fair enough — a mere bounty hunter wouldn't know the fine details.
The young bounty hunter fell silent for a moment, then abruptly looked down at his left arm.
"Mm. It seems the preparations are complete."
"……Preparations?"
"Yes."
That strikingly handsome face curled into a fishy smile.
"In truth, I never gave negotiation a moment's thought from the start. I prepared something else instead."
Smiling back at him, I felt mana writhing in the brush far behind me.
"What a coincidence."
"A coincidence? What do you mean, my lord?"
"Because so did I."
"……What?"
That instant.
From behind me came a sizzling roar, and a wave of heat lanced past. The faces of the two men facing me contorted in horror.
"Ah— fuck, that's—"
My reflection stared back from Randall's bulging eyes. So did the five balls of fire surging up out of the brush.
"Fireballs! Take cover—!"
The moment his torn scream left his throat, the Delayed Fireballs that Ellen had spent so long crafting with such painstaking care accelerated with a vengeance. The five fireballs — the ones the mountain birds had tipped me off about — streaked through the air and burst in a flash.
KWA-BOOM!
A pillar of fire erupted below the hill's crest.
"GYAAK!"
"UUU, AAAAH—!"
Dozens of mercenaries, fire clinging to their bodies here and there, came popping out of hiding like grasshoppers.
By my rough count, thirty or forty had survived. Given how thinly the encirclement must have been spread, that many had been caught in the blast and killed.
"Th-th-this—"
Randall, his eyes bugging out, seized Tobias by the collar.
"You fucking bastard—!"
"Let go of me, damn it!"
By the time Tobias wrenched himself free, I had already thrown a javelin and was kicking off the ground.
THUNK!
"Kgh!"
Tobias, wrenching his upper body aside at the last instant, took the javelin on his right shoulder. He must have been wearing armor beneath the cloak — only the head had bitten in.
"Ugh."
Gritting his teeth, Tobias drew his longsword and leveled it at me.
"Deno!"
At that word of activation, the green jewel set in the pommel flashed — and then, of all things, green lines came flying at me like rays of light.
Sprinting low to the ground as I pulled my second javelin free, I didn't even have time to react. Faster than any arrow, the green lines coiled around my entire body in a single breath.
A Binding spell.
"You son of a bitch—"
While I thrashed and cursed, unable to move so much as a muscle, a furious Randall came charging at me.
"You bastard — my mercenary band, you dare—!"
WHUMP.
The violently swung long spear came hurtling at my head. I threw myself sideways, whole body still bound, trying to dodge — but the shaft hammered into my flank anyway.
THUD!
"Kghk."
The dog-awful pain was one thing; worse, I had no way at all to resist the blows that followed.
Randall backed off two steps to recover his spear, then stepped in two more and thrust — an exquisite stab aimed at the space between my neck and chest.
"Ughk."
I desperately arched my spine, thrashing for my life. But Randall relentlessly extended the spearhead, and at last it found my throat.
CLANG!
"Wha—"
When the spearhead met my skin and spat sparks, Randall frowned, thrown off balance.
It must have felt like driving a blade into stone rather than flesh. That was the work of Stone Skin — a defensive spell the mage Siren had walked me through, granite powder and all.
Saving my neck was a relief, but I could feel the spell unraveling, spent on blocking that single thrust.
"Heh. Good. Let's do this."
Randall re-gripped his long spear and smiled a cold smile.
……Uh oh. I'm actually about to die here, aren't I?
A spike of danger shot through me, and I wrung out every last drop of strength I had, shaking my limbs with everything in me.
"NNNGH—!"
My resistance lasted only an instant. The green lines binding me shattered with a metallic CLANG and burst to pieces.
From there: I rolled across the ground to dodge the spearhead, shrugged the round shield off my shoulder into my hand, drew Hrunting, and buried it in Randall's belly.
THUNK!
"Kghaaa—"
Randall collapsed forward with a long wheeze, like a bellows with a hole punched through it.
And in that instant, beneath the harrowing screams of men and hounds alike, I caught a faint sound.
Tung.
A sound like a plucked string.
Instinct took over — I heaved up the round shield and dropped into a crouch. Sure enough, a crossbow bolt came flying in from ambush and slammed into the shield.
Tobias had fired it.
He had rolled up his left sleeve, and strapped to that forearm was a small crossbow.
"Ha. Cute little toy you've got there."
Ignoring my ferocious growl, Tobias flattened himself against the ground.
……What the hell is he doing?
I was still puzzling over the bizarre maneuver when—
FLASH.
"Huh?"
From the round shield — or, to be precise, from something like a rod lashed to the short crossbow bolt Tobias had fired — white light blazed out.
"……What is this?"
Barely had the unease settled in when, as if answering a signal, a brilliant light flashed from a cliff somewhere to the east. It was like a colossal white flower blooming in an instant.
……Familiar, somehow. I've seen this before. Where?
"Sir Phoenix! We're coming to join you!"
Amias's voice rang out from behind me — along with Utekwai's thunderous bellow.
"No!"
I flung away the shield with the bolt still stuck in it and let out a scream that was nearly a shriek.
"Stay back! Fall ba—"
Before the shout could leave my throat. Before the thrown shield could fly even halfway.
A roar filled my ears, and my vision flooded white.
Then everything before my eyes went dark.
KRRUMBLE! As the northern sky flickered with lightning, a man who looked to be in his early forties stroked his short-cropped beard.
"Strange business."
The man wore armor built from several layered plates of uneven black iron. At a glance it resembled plate armor, but rough, jagged protrusions sat here and there across its surface, lending it a sharply aggressive look.
Including the bearded man, eight men sat in the deep shade of the dense forest. They had not even lit a fire.
Two of the eight were dressed as the bearded man was. The remaining five wore surcoats reinforced with iron plates over their chain mail.
One of the men in the iron-plated surcoat — a young man missing an ear — spoke up.
"A sight I never once saw in Ailant."
"It would be a rare thing here as well."
"Indeed."
All eight were powerfully built, black-haired and black-eyed.
They exuded, without quite meaning to, a bleak and barren air, and their features sat somehow out of true.
"I wish to return home soon."
"As do I."
Their faces were expressionless, as if masked.
Looked at closely, those vaguely unsettling faces bore an uncanny resemblance to one another — you could well have believed all eight of them brothers.
And to this bizarre company, a figure stranger still was added.
"The Princess approaches."
At someone's murmur, the eight men rose as one. Shortly after, with the drum of hoofbeats, a woman came into view.
"My Princess."
The woman rode toward the eight men as they quietly saluted.
She was beautiful.
Hair black as the night sky, skin white as the moon. Clear eyes drawn in ideal proportion, small ears, a straight nose, red lips.
She was as expressionless as the eight men, and yet somehow she glowed. Unlike the men, with their somehow twisted features and bearing, the woman was……
Whole.
At least, so it appeared from the outside.
The woman called Princess gave her command.
"Follow me."
"Yes, my lady."
The eight men mounted the horses they had tethered nearby. Looking again, all nine of them — the Princess included — rode flawless black horses.
The black damask cloak draped over her red vest snapped like a banner in the wind, and eight riders thundered along behind it.
Men in heavy armor, escorting a woman whose only metal was the gold buttons on her vest and the ruby brooch that pinned her cloak.
The bearded man drew his horse level with the Princess's.
"Where are we bound, my lady?"
"To where the lightning struck."
The man fell silent. The Princess added, as though letting the words scatter on the wind:
"I sensed mana."
"From the lightning strike?"
"Yes."
"Mages capable of calling down lightning are exceedingly rare."
"And most of them are in the palace."
Silence again. The Princess blinked her wind-narrowed eyes a couple of times.
"In Southharbor, I saw palace mages. The ones who lost their tokens to a pickpocket."
"I remember. You said the Silver Prince's lackey had played a shabby trick on them."
"They were hunting the Fire Witch."
The bearded man fell silent once more. The Princess did not speak again.
Hoofbeats rang out clamorously. The iron-plated surcoats clamored along with them.
A crest was embroidered across those surcoats: a black serpent and a white serpent, set against a field of red.
The two serpents coiled around each other, without a single gap.