The Knight Rides a Flying Saucer (1)
Seventeen-year-old knight Nathan Maia finally ripped off his helmet and shook out the sweat that had pooled inside. Then he spat out the true feelings he had barely swallowed down for the past several days.
“What a shit life.”
The sun was brutal. Perfect weather for sneaking off to a stream, dipping your feet in the water, and nursing a drink. Lion Wing Knights regulations forbade drinking on operations, but what they didn’t catch wouldn’t hurt them. If he couldn’t steal any booze, cold water would do just fine. If the valley was too far, any place to lie down—a bed, a patch of rocks—would feel like heaven.
Honestly, anything would be better than this moment. So I’m begging here. I don’t believe in any gods, but whoever’s listening, just send me home.
The Unclaimed Highlands had neither a single blade of grass nor a tree to cast shade. The knight, standing alone against hundreds of heavily armed orcs while the sun hammered his skull, finally lost his temper as sweat joined the glare to sting his eyes.
“I’m losing my mind. How the hell can you bastards tail me for a whole week? Don’t you have any shame? What, no days off? Nice to see you, friends. I don’t have any either!”
The hulking green monsters growled back in clear dissatisfaction. Yet they refused to come any closer. There was only one reason they hadn’t torn the knight’s limbs off and roasted him over a fire.
The field cannon Nathan held raised in open threat. It was built to shoot, not to be thrown. Unfortunately the abandoned base hill was stripped clean of shells and powder.
So Nathan had tried a little creative problem-solving moments earlier. The orc horde had been impressed by his ingenuity. Still, their sudden obedience probably wasn’t born from admiration alone.
When a house-sized chunk of iron dropped from above and pulped the comrade walking beside you, it was only natural for every foot to stop dead. Even more so when the dead warrior’s insides—things no one ever wanted to see—sprayed everywhere in a fountain of blood.
Fortunately, even if they were bigger, uglier, and dumber, they still flinched at horrific sights the same as humans. When a scene gruesome enough to sicken even orc sensibilities unfolded, the enemy fell into total chaos. The man who had hurled the entire cannon barrel even grimaced for a split second in reluctant sympathy.
“Hell of a mess.”
But Nathan quickly shook his head. These were the same bastards who had chased him for nearly a week with murder in their eyes. Better their skulls than his. Facing the orc pack that still hadn’t recovered its courage, he lifted a second cannon instead of any apology.
“Anyone else want to see what it looks like to get smashed into chunks? Come a little closer. Or nock an arrow and fidget with it. I’ll turn you into ground meat either way.”
No green devil seemed eager for that particular outcome. Not a single one advanced up the hill. Thirty minutes had already passed. Stopping an army single-handed was the stuff of mythic-age hero tales. The opponent, after all, was the Abyss Orc Legion—renowned for relentless savagery across the wasteland.
Yet Nathan could take no joy in the feat. Not while standing under a sun that reeked of orc sweat, holding an iron mass so heavy it made his arms scream.
…At least if they charged I’d have an excuse to drop this thing.
The sun past noon kept baking his scalp. The cannon in his arms heated even faster. The crisis in front of him felt less important than the urge to hurl the damn thing away. This moment had nothing to do with triumph or happiness.
But the weather wasn’t the only thing making Nathan furious. Stopping an army alone was only possible when no allies remained to help. The only living souls left on this forsaken base hill were Nathan and one dying comrade.
“Damn it, I enlisted to get promoted, not to put on armor for this kind of insane bullshit.”
“Tell me about it.”
At Nathan’s grumble, the fallen knight Aspen groaned and spoke up.
“The sound of them getting crushed was pretty satisfying. Your strength really is monstrous. You sure you’re not a human-skinned catapult?”
A wet, blood-choked laugh drifted from behind him. Nathan bit his lip. At least she was conscious.
“What took you so long to wake up, Aspen?”
“You wanted me to stay unconscious? That’s insubordination.”
Though the words sounded like teasing, both voices carried thick currents of guilt. If Nathan had deflected the throwing spear aimed at Aspen’s back in time—if Aspen had managed to dodge—they might have kept running longer. But turning aside every projectile raining from all directions required a miracle. Even for the elite of the elite in the Lion Wing Knights, repeating such feats wasn’t easy. Especially not after seven days and nights of being hunted like animals.
“If only we’d missed them and ridden on, we wouldn’t have poked the hornet’s nest.”
A week earlier, while scouting the wilderness, Nathan and Aspen had discovered an orc legion hiding in the valleys. The green devils had been preparing a night raid on the Human Federation garrison—an outcome they desperately wanted to avoid. The pair had fought off countless boar-riding pursuers and fled across dozens of kilometers. They even succeeded in sending a messenger bird to warn the military druid. Thanks to their efforts, the troops at this base who had nearly been caught defenseless managed to retreat safely to the rear fortress.
They had achieved so much, yet numbers eventually overwhelmed them. The legion’s pursuit grew vicious, fueled by thwarted bloodlust, and one of the endless spears finally brought down Nathan’s senior knight.
And Nathan could not abandon her.
Only two choices remained. Stand there holding the steel cannon, guarding her until the heat killed her. Or set the iron pillar down and tend her wounds—until the orcs tore his own limbs off, of course. Neither option held any real hope.
The blue-skinned bastards seemed bothered by the heat too; they were loosening waterskins one by one to drink. Nathan, who had not tasted water in two days, felt rage boil up.
“Are those fuckers doing that on purpose?”
“If it pisses you off that much, go ask for a sip.”
When Aspen coughed dryly and chuckled, Nathan shook his head and pretended not to hear. The last of his own water had been used long ago to clean her blood and dress the wound.
His throat felt like it was on fire. For one absurd moment a happy thought flickered through his mind. Maybe he really should set the cannon down and beg for a drink. His eyelids grew heavier. The sun was warm and sleep had been nonexistent. After running seven days with orc killing intent burning into his back, it would have been strange if his mind hadn’t gone dark already…
A small pebble struck the back of Nathan’s swaying head.
“Stop dozing and listen. I’ve got a good idea. The one who can still move retreats first.”
Nathan thought steam might start rising from his skull.
Good idea my ass.
“Lions do not abandon other lions and flee.”
“That’s a line we Double Wings use to comfort little Outer Wings like you. It’s what you tell a sniveling recruit scared of his own shadow.”
“Lions do not abandon other lions and flee.”
“Hatchlings are allowed to run. Take the horse I tied behind that rock and get out of here before it becomes orc dinner.”
“I’m not running. If I wanted to, I would have done it already.”
Aspen rose with a pained grunt and shouldered the longsword she had been using as a crutch.
“Stop the useless barking and obey. A rotten Double Wing is still a Double Wing. I can buy you some time at least, so run.”
Before Nathan could argue further, she drove the point home.
“That’s an order.”
“This is fucking low.”
“Call it cowardly if you want. If you don’t like it, you should have enlisted sooner and earned yourself another wing.”
Nathan’s resolve wavered. Of course he wanted to live. His mouth moved before his mind could lock the decision in place.
“Last words?”
“I pray for the safe return of knight Nathan Maia. May his body remain in one piece until he reaches the main camp.”
The words came without hesitation. She sounded like she had rehearsed them. Aspen Peres belonged to a prestigious martial house. It was different for Nathan, who had never even seen his birth mother’s face. Aspen’s parents and relatives were alive and waiting. There was even a noble lady who waited eagerly for her return, the same one Aspen sometimes bragged about while teasing her comrades. Their relationship didn’t seem especially deep, but still.
If she were composing a proper will, she would have had plenty of material. Yet Aspen said nothing more. She probably didn’t want to burden the one who would have to run.
There are events in life that happen only once, if ever. A final testament is one of them. Throwing even that away for someone else’s sake would be foolish.
“The more I learn about being a knight, the more I realize how utterly disgusting the job is.”
If he somehow survived and kept drawing a knight’s pay, he would probably turn into the same kind of person. Nathan wondered if he should quit before that happened.
“That wasn’t a will, it was encouragement. Are you insane? Don’t you have anything to say to your family?”
“A little Outer Wing punk has no shortage of things to say to his exalted Double Wing senior. Your mouth only opens because you think I’m about to die? I’ll clench my teeth, kill every last one of those orcs, come back, and personally ruin your promotion track.”
Apparently having two wings on your medicine cabinet let you crack jokes even when your face had less color than a fresh corpse. Aspen flashed a bold grin, her complexion no better than the bodies littering the ground.
“So see you then. Go.”
In the distance the orc legion commander and his elite guard were shoving their way forward, cursing the soldiers who refused to advance. Tucked under their arms were several sinister-looking harpoon spears—the same kind that had pierced Aspen and killed her horse.
It was the worst possible timing. Because Nathan had just decided he wasn’t going anywhere.
“I’m not leaving. Just in case.”
He readjusted his grip on the cannon for better swinging leverage. The barrel of the field gun, gleaming beneath the merciless sun, was engraved with humanity’s countless victories. Miraculous reversals won not only against green devils but against far more numerous, stronger, and sometimes even cleverer monsters. Some of those engravings belonged to predecessors in the Lion Wing Knights.
“I might still win against three hundred. Could be the start of a legend.”
“Wow, listen to this guy’s delusions. Top tier. If you actually pull it off, I’ll make sure they throw you one hell of a victory parade.”
Aspen, still chuckling with blood in her mouth, suddenly staggered and leaned against a rock. She let out a long breath. The tone of it made Nathan’s stomach tighten with dread.
“…I see a light.”
That was the last thing he wanted to hear. He stammered out something ridiculous.
“Don’t follow that light. You have to make it back alive. I held myself back from running too, so just hang on a little longer!”
“Wait… no. Actually, it might not be that kind of light.”
Ah. Summer sunlight.
It really was impossible to miss. A vein stood out on Nathan’s neck.
“Come on, seriously—draining someone’s strength until the very end—”
“I’m not joking. Look up there. Does that look like anything that should exist?”
Suddenly the light of the world itself seemed to change. Nathan glanced at his feet. The shadow was far too dark for afternoon. Sensing wrongness, he tilted his head back.
Aspen, clutching her bandaged stomach, pointed upward with the hand that still gripped her longsword. Her face showed the expression of someone watching basic common sense collapse.
The same premonition infected Nathan. He swallowed hard and looked into the sky.
A massive, perfectly round flying object was bathing them in blinding light.
“…Why?”
“I’m not just hallucinating because I’m dying, right? Right, Nathan?”
“…No, but what the hell is…?”
The circular metallic thing looked like an iron bowl someone had tossed into the sky. Only its overwhelming sense of mass kept it from seeming ordinary. From the pupil-like aperture at its center poured a brilliant beam. It was as if a one-eyed golem were studying them.
Still dazed, Nathan finally found the right word.
“…A flying saucer?”