Wendigo (3)
The upper road looked as if a storm had just torn through it.
A carriage lay half-shattered, its cargo spilled out in all directions.
The horse, its flesh hanging in tatters, was cooling fast.
Between the wreckage and the fallen baggage, there were traces of a gnoll.
A stench so foul it made him wrinkle his nose without thinking.
The filth he had no desire to name was the monster’s calling card.
“Aagh!”
A scream, sharp enough to split the night, rang out ahead.
The sound wasn’t far off.
Lawrence quickened his pace.
“Don’t swarm it like idiots!”
“Just aim for its eyes from a distance. Calm down and shoot!”
The roar of an injured beast rolled across the snow.
Beyond the carriage, the blood-soaked Wendigo bared its rage.
Its foot kicked up a spray of snow.
“It’s coming!”
“Heads down, everyone!”
The mercenaries hiding behind the carriage hunched lower behind their makeshift shield.
A crash boomed like a boulder dropping from the sky.
“Crouch!”
“Guh!”
The mercenaries who reacted too late were sent flying with the snow.
Buried in ice and drift, they struggled to move.
The Wendigo’s momentum was terrifying.
And yet it did not directly attack the mercenaries hiding behind the carriage.
“Sing!”
“I’ve got it!”
The ones still clinging stubbornly to the Wendigo were Sing and Sidra.
It had only looked distant because of the storm.
Its body was covered in the signs of a desperate struggle.
Broken spears and swords.
Arrows and quarrels bristled from its flesh.
“Just die already!”
Another sword drove into its body.
The blade Sidra had shoved in pierced straight through the Wendigo’s thigh.
A handful of blood spilled out, its heat melting the snow.
Even after staggering once, the Wendigo did not fall.
“How many times do we have to stab this thing before it dies?”
“Save your breath for fighting.”
The Wendigo’s eyes were locked on the two of them.
It never missed a fist coming down from above.
Every time the distance opened up, a thick cloud of powdery snow burst into the air.
“Shoot!”
Quarrels and arrows saved the two men when their footing gave way.
Seizing the opening, the mercenaries swarmed the Wendigo.
“Now!”
“Kill it!”
It was a proper mud-slinging brawl.
The only one excited by the sight of blood was not the Wendigo.
The mercenaries, having forgotten even the safety of their own bodies, were drunk on it.
If there was ever a time to act, this was it.
The Wendigo still hadn’t noticed him.
It would die without even knowing what had struck it.
But in this state, he couldn’t use magic.
If he made even the slightest mistake, he might drag the mercenaries pressuring the Wendigo into the blast as well.
How should he warn them?
While Lawrence was turning the problem over in his mind, he spotted a familiar mercenary.
“Rose.”
“Hm?”
The woman, loading a quarrel behind the carriage, looked up.
“Oh? Well, look who’s here. You’re alive after all, mage!”
For some reason, a delighted grin bloomed across Rose’s face.
“You all saw that, right? He’s alive and kicking. Don’t go changing your story later—every bastard who said he was dead owes me money.”
“Rose got it? Damn. There goes today’s betting pool.”
“That was Giselle who said that, right? You’re dead.”
“I-I’m not Giselle!”
“…….”
Lawrence let out a helpless laugh before he could stop himself.
Apparently, they had bet on whether he was dead or alive.
“Thanks, mage. I’ll buy you a drink later.”
“No need. I’ll collect that drink now.”
Perfect timing.
The fat mercenary who could run errands for him wasn’t here at the moment.
“From now on, I’m going to prepare a spell to kill the Wendigo. In the meantime, I need you to tell the mercenaries fighting up front to back off.”
Rose frowned.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I don’t have time. The longer this drags on, the worse the casualties get.”
The mercenary losses were just as severe as the Wendigo’s wounds.
Monster and human bodies were simply not built the same way.
Even if they had the upper hand for now, there was no guarantee they could keep it.
One wrong step on a tightrope, and the fall below was death.
They needed to end this as quickly as possible.
“I’m not doubting your skill. But that’s a Wendigo. Can you really kill it for sure with magic?”
At her question, Lawrence nodded.
“I already killed one.”
“You should’ve said that first!”
She tossed her crossbow aside and sprang to her feet.
“If there’s gambling, that’s my game. Betting my life’s a new one, though. Let’s see—so I just have to pass on the message?”
“When I give the signal, I need everyone to pull back from the Wendigo. But until then, I need someone to keep it occupied at the last possible moment.”
“Not sure there’s anyone crazy enough to volunteer.”
“Maybe not a volunteer. But I do know someone who fits.”
“Fine. Then give it one big shot for me, mage.”
Rose puffed herself up as if to make herself look larger, then ran forward.
“Shadow Light.”
The gathered shadows turned into a sphere of light.
“Shadow Spear.”
Preparation was complete.
With the spear of shadow formed, Lawrence watched the battlefield.
“A shadow mage is here! Everyone except the silver-plate mercenaries, back off!”
Fortunately, the mercenaries reacted to Rose’s shout.
They began to retreat in stages, tending to the wounded as they went.
At last, only Sing and Sidra remained near the Wendigo.
“Mage!”
I’m watching.
Lawrence gripped the Shadow Spear.
It was not the same as simply casting and maintaining a spell.
The moment he closed his hand around the spear shaft, his field of vision seemed to widen.
A sensation so vivid that no other word fit.
He could feel the neighbors that made up the world lending him their strength.
He could throw it whenever he wanted.
If he could only hit, killing it would be easy.
But no matter how long he waited, Sing and Sidra couldn’t create a proper opening around the Wendigo.
They had said he needed someone to hold it in place, yes.
But at this rate, he couldn’t throw the Shadow Spear.
“Just shoot already! It can dodge!”
This time, Rose’s shout worked against him.
The Wendigo, which had been watching the two mercenaries, turned its head.
Its eyes fell on Lawrence, who was holding the Shadow Spear.
He couldn’t wait any longer.
He would have to trust the two of them and throw it.
Stepping forward with a long stride, Lawrence hurled the Shadow Spear with his whole body.
“It’s coming!”
“Move!”
Seeing the flying Shadow Spear, Sing and Sidra backed away.
But so did the Wendigo.
It, too, retreated when it sensed the ominous surge of power.
He would not miss.
The Shadow Spear surged forward to the very end and pierced it clean through.
Red blood stained the white expanse of the snowfield.
With a dull impact, one of the monster’s arms went flying.
Blood gushed from the shoulder stump of the Wendigo, which had lost its arm.
He had missed.
An almost-scream of a roar shook the air.
His mind seemed to sway under the force of it.
Pressed down by the sound, Lawrence sank to one knee.
It wasn’t a headache.
What he felt was the sickening churn of his chest.
It was the familiar exhaustion that came after burning through too much mana.
Anyone could see he wouldn’t be moving for a while.
But Lawrence wasn’t worried.
There was no way the two of them would let this opening slip.
At the edge of his lifted gaze, Sing and Sidra were already cutting off the Wendigo’s head.
* * *
The campfire burned fiercely.
By the time dawn broke, the situation had been more or less brought under control.
And yet the flames that drove back the cold could not dispel the heavy mood.
“Five company employees were killed in total. Eight porters came with us, and ten escort mercenaries didn’t survive either. There are more than ten seriously wounded. Some of them probably won’t make it as far as Winterglen.”
The one reporting the damage was a company employee.
With his face hidden in his hands, Oswin couldn’t bring himself to look up.
Behind the carriage sat Oswin, along with the escort leaders—namely the silver-plate mercenaries Sing and Sidra—and Lawrence.
“May I continue?”
“…….”
Oswin gave a faint nod.
“The carriages took heavy damage too. Two of them are beyond repair, and the horses were eaten. The goods inside are in bad shape as well. We had people recover the salvageable items for now, but whether we can get a proper price for them is another matter. Considering the company’s reputation, it might be better not to sell them at all.”
The company employee kept his voice as steady as he could.
“There were two Wendigos that attacked the caravan last night. One was brought down outside by Lord Lawrence, and the other was killed by the mercenaries working together. The gnoll corpses we’ve recovered number around a hundred. Among them were three Gnoll Warriors.”
The Wendigos had been dealt with properly thanks to the two silver-plate mercenaries, so the caravan itself had not suffered catastrophic damage from them.
But the gnolls were another matter.
More than ninety percent of the caravan’s losses had been caused by the gnolls.
Ordinarily, once a fight grew too fierce, they would panic and run.
But these ones had not fled. Instead, they had fought back with their dying breaths.
There was probably only one reason.
The gnolls had been driven down here by the Wendigo.
They had already been frightened by a monster stronger than themselves.
Once their eyes had gone half-crazed, they no longer feared human beings.
“What about the mercenaries’ losses?”
After going over the caravan’s damage, Oswin asked the next question.
“Five bronze-plate mercenaries were killed, and more than ten were wounded. However, the surviving mercenaries are tending to the injured, and they seem to have enough potions on hand, so no one among the wounded should die.”
Lawrence answered while referring to the notes on his wooden tablet.
“That’s a relief. If the mercenaries’ losses had been heavy as well, this journey might not have been worth continuing.”
Separate from the damage, the mercenaries had done their best.
There was no need to say how fiercely they had fought against that Wendigo.
Although the caravan’s losses were severe because the gnolls had penetrated deep into the convoy, at least the human toll had been kept relatively low for that reason.
“Before I came here, I gathered the mercenaries’ opinions.”
“Their opinions?”
“As a stopgap, the mercenaries are willing to provide potions for treating the wounded. If we pay a fair price for them, they say they won’t refuse. What do you think, Vice Commander?”
“Good. We’ll buy the entire supply of potions from the caravan.”
Oswin nodded readily.
“Is there any chance of running into the Wendigo again?”
“That’s… difficult to say. According to the information we were given ahead of time, Wendigos are supposed to appear in regions north of Winterglen. On the route up here, we’ve never even heard of two Wendigos appearing together.”
The employee’s expression darkened.
“If I’d known this would happen, I should’ve listened to Lionel.”
Regret always came too late, no matter how quickly it arrived.
Still, if this was all the damage they had suffered, it might count as fortunate in misfortune.
“For now, I’d like us to move the camp quickly today.”
This was the site of a battle that had already taken place.
There was a good chance other monsters would come drawn by the smell of blood.
“As soon as the wounded are gathered, we’ll move. I’d like the mercenaries who are still in good shape to look for a new campsite first.”
“Understood.”
Lawrence rose from his seat.
To prevent a second disaster, they needed to move as quickly as possible.
* * *
“I can see it! That’s Winterglen!”
Cheers erupted from the column.
The expressions of the others, lighting up with joy, were sincere.
The mercenaries and the caravan alike.
This journey had left scars on all of them.
So the village they were seeing again after months away was nothing short of welcome.
A village buried beneath pure white snow.
That phrase fit Winterglen perfectly.
Instead of a city wall, an ice-hardened wooden palisade divided inside from outside.
Snow had piled high atop the low, sturdy watchtowers.
There was barely anything that could be called a road.
The gate guards, bundled in thick clothing, greeted the caravan.
“Welcome to Winterglen. Where have you come from?”
“You have our thanks. I’m Oswin, vice commander of the Mistra Merchant Group.”
“You’re from the Mistra Merchant Group?”
“We traveled here from Mistra to Winterglen. A message should have arrived ahead of us. May I ask you to confirm it?”
The guard blinked blankly.
“Then this is all….”
Oswin nodded.
“Just a moment, please. Wake up every last bastard sleeping inside. Tell them we’ve got honored guests all the way from far away!”
“Ah, yes sir! Captain!”
The gate guard hurriedly ran inside the checkpoint.
The inspection was prepared with astonishing speed.
In the first place, the caravan was the only visitor Winterglen had received.
The mercenaries, as mercenaries.
The company members, as company members.
It took time to check each wagon and every last piece of cargo.
The members who cleared inspection first entered the village.
“Bronze-plate mercenary Lawrence. You’re with the Holy Cross Order?”
“May the goddess’s blessing be with you.”
Lawrence offered the order’s greeting.
“Hmph. Up here in the north, it’s probably easier not to advertise that you’re with the order. Even if you don’t mean it that way, there are plenty of people who don’t look kindly on them.”
“I’ve heard the rumors.”
“Good. Then you know what I mean. The order’s teachings haven’t melted this frozen wasteland.”
The gate guard shook his head.
Judging from the uneasy atmosphere, this place might be closer to Rombamel than Remington.
He would need to think it through a little more.
Right from the entrance, the guard was warning them personally.
If the name of the order became an obstacle, then perhaps it would be better to hide his affiliation for a while, as he had done at the Magic Tower.