Chapter 141: Zombie Apocalypse (7)
Chapter 141: Zombie Apocalypse (7)
Varda's wet nurse Grace was a dryad. She had no warm blood coursing through her, nor a single patch of soft skin upon her body.
Yet she was a guardian who could bestow a gentle warmth and a profound sense of comfort.
When she needed to be strict, she knew how to blend softness and firmness like a grandmother. When she held someone close, she poured love into it, like a mother nursing her babe.
She was a being composed of such pure affection that even Eugene, who had spent only a few days with her, could perceive it.
But the colossal dryad who now stood alongside the Spirit Mage was the polar opposite.
'If there were a god of shrikes, I suppose it would look something like this, wouldn't it?'
He faced a pitiable and dangerous existence that utterly failed to comprehend the happiness of an embrace.
[Withdraw. This territory does not permit the approach of humans.]
The Forest Spirit, wearing the shape of a dryad, spoke.
"I have spoken my name. If you, too, would demand something, then declare yourself openly."
[I am Nínloth. I am the master who has existed upon these mountains since time immemorial.]
The eyes of the Spirit Mage Balthazar beside her widened. For Nínloth had, until now, simply ignored whatever the people she encountered babbled and killed them without hesitation.
This was the first time she had obediently answered another's words.
"...A flower? I don't know the first word, but the second part means flower, doesn't it?"
"Yes. It means tear (Nín) flower (Lóth)."
Varda nodded in response to Eugene's question; he had only lately begun to learn the Elven tongue.
Since he was still at the toddling stage, she had been teaching him chiefly the beautiful, positive words.
[Turn back. If you turn back now, we too shall not pursue you.]
"Nínloth. Why do you not simply kill them? Are you not still hungry?"
Balthazar could not understand Nínloth's moderate attitude. For they had slaughtered warriors in numbers far greater than the army Eugene had brought, without any great difficulty.
Yet Nínloth sensed an uncommonly oppressive pressure radiating from Eugene.
An immeasurably long span of years bestowed powerful intuition in its own right. That intuition was counseling her to resolve this through dialogue with the knight before her.
[This place was originally the land of the spirits. Lacking throats to speak with, lacking arms with which to thrust away, I merely permitted the trespassers.]
"Leave, or else remain, becoming one with nature."
Balthazar pointed toward the monstrous beings who had met their deaths while being encroached upon by mycelia. Eugene merely found it absurd.
"Do you dress up that ghastly state—neither alive nor dead—as having become one with nature?"
"Do not humans likewise tear the earth with hoes and scatter seeds, draining the soil's potency? In the same manner, someone has the right to scatter seeds upon their bodies and flourish."
Eugene's subordinates stared at Balthazar as though they were about to retch. A single exchange had been enough to make them realize he was a madman they could never reason with.
"Soil is soil. Do not wastefully imbue it with meaning. The farmer reaps the harvest and the crop flourishes, so both are content. But what do those monstrous beings possess, besides wretchedness?"
"Though they appear grotesque, those beings have become existences incomparably faithful to nature. Why do you not comprehend that blessing? This, rather, is a thing to be rejoiced over."
"Well, now."
This land, in the matter of diversity, brooked no comparison with the world Eugene had known.
That was why, even before science, philosophy, and productive capacity had fully developed, some fields occasionally produced achievements tens of centuries ahead of their time.
That was not limited to inventions alone, but applied also to ideology—and among them was eco-fascism. Its vanguard was the spirits and the Spirit Mages who sympathized with them.
"For all that talk, your own body's remarkably clean. Wouldn't it be a bit more fair if you had a black mushroom or two sprouting from your eye or throat when you spoke such words?"
"I am different. I have never once tilled the soil. I stand unashamed before nature."
Balthazar's tone grew stiff. As though he had never held a lengthy conversation with other people, fatigue seemed to rise in him after only a few questions and answers.
"I take it the bread you've eaten, the clothes you've worn, the shoes you've worn, and every manner of tool you've used must have fallen from the sky, then? Those things, too, were made by damaging nature in their own respective ways. Don't make others do that and then pretend you alone are stainless."
"That is..."
Balthazar mumbled, but the words failed to emerge as language. It was only to be expected. For an eco-fascist's conclusion was always a lapse into silence.
Eugene withdrew his gaze from Balthazar, who had lost his words.
"Nínloth. I came here seeking the Black Hand Tribe. They are under my protection, and I have a duty to safeguard them. If they are dead, then I must at least take their remains with me."
Eugene indicated the dark elf corpse affixed to Nínloth's body, its nutrients being drained. It was half-mummified, bones exposed in places.
The tribal warrior women waiting behind Eugene were glaring with eyes burning with hatred. Eugene demanded, speaking on behalf of their hearts.
"Surrender the children of the forest that are affixed to your body. And tell me the locations of all the others."
[Children of the forest, indeed! They are prodigals without qualms about nature's despoilment. They are fellows as blackly depraved as the darkness-steeped skin they bear.]
Nínloth seemed to harbor no kindly feelings toward dark elves.
Unlike elves, their apparent lack of any particular respect for nature seemed to be the cause. For dark elves were the sort who would start forest fires without hesitation, if necessity demanded.
"I have no interest in your values. All I want is the return of the Black Hand Tribe."
[I refuse. All that belongs to this mountain range is mine.]
"So if I simply leave you be, you'll run rampant across the entire Apen Mountains? Millions would be left weeping."
Whether because the point had struck home, Nínloth too fell silent.
Most knights were simple beings whose thoughts were buried in the glory or gain before their eyes. Yet the man before her seemed as though he took greater pleasure in dialogue than in bloodshed.
Neither Nínloth nor Balthazar was adept at dealing with this type.
"This is my final warning. At once, hand over the dark elf corpses affixed to your body, and spill the locations of the others."
[Try it, if you are capable!]
In that instant, the corpses clutched against Nínloth's body dried and withered at terrifying speed. As though even the nutrients that remained were being sucked dry.
A change came over Nínloth's body as well, as she shook off the skulls that crumbled and fell like husks.
The dryad's body, which had been twice the size of a full-grown man, transformed itself into the shape of a martial artist. The old-wood limbs, twisted like rope, seemed to hold immense strength merely to look upon.
Sensing that negotiations had broken down, Eugene sent a hand signal with his hand concealed behind his back.
'Kill the Spirit Mage.'
Homi, Cassandra, Rex, and the tribal warrior women all loosed arrows and hurled daggers in a volley.
"Hmph!"
Yet, as though he had anticipated the surprise attack, Balthazar nimbly hid behind Nínloth. The countless projectiles were blocked by the hard wooden trunk and fell to the ground, strengthless.
"Homi, that is..."
Nod.
The wood itself was hard, but the black gleam coating its surface—that, too, was something both Eugene and Homi recognized.
"It is the witches' Arcane Sap."
Cassandra, too, recognized it.
"When I lived in my homeland, I used that to strengthen clubs and made fairly good use of it."
However, the sap now coating Nínloth's body seemed to be of an even higher order.
For all the arrows and projectiles had fallen away without a single arrowhead lodging, save for what might amount to a few scratches.
[Darling child. Come into my embrace.]
"Gladly!"
Balthazar spread his arms wide, his face enraptured. At that, Nínloth's wooden mass split open, and dozens of vines emerged to swallow Balthazar.
The Spirit Mage, curling his body into a ball like a fetus, sank into the sensation of becoming one with nature.
Watching Nínloth, who had thus entered a battle-ready state, Eugene was somewhat taken aback.
"Martial arts, is it?"
The great dryad was standing in the refined posture that only practitioners of the martial disciplines assumed. His subordinates were equally stunned.
"I thought she would use magic or curses..."
"Or perhaps summon something."
"No, where did a spirit learn something like that?"
Only one among them, Varda, calmly opened her lips.
"In the greater order of things, the wellspring of all martial arts and weapon arts originates in the imitation of beasts. A Forest Spirit as ancient as she will have observed a vast number of wild beasts since antiquity. It is not strange that she has mastered their movements and knows how to apply them."
Her golden eyes scrutinized Nínloth with great care.
"Do not lower your guard. Regard it as contending against a martial artist who has trained a handful of movements for thousands of years."
As though those words had brought them sharply alert, everyone's faces hardened.
At the same moment, Nínloth drove her feet into the earth. With a bursting cloud of dust, she charged headlong toward Eugene.
* * *
A long arm, easily a good two meters in length, scythed toward him, but Might leaped sideways and evaded it.
But a dryad's arms had no bones, nor were they constrained by the range of a human joint's motion.
The arm that had cleaved empty air immediately bent like a serpent and gave chase. The hand at its end gaped open like a hippopotamus' maw. It came with the momentum to snatch up knight and warhorse and squeeze them to pulp.
"Back."
Four legs like tempered steel kicked off the ground as though to shatter it. Nínloth's clutching hand once more swept through empty air.
At that, the wooden fingers lengthened explosively, transforming into ten spears. They bore down with impetus enough to skewer Eugene and Might, who were flying backward.
Slash!
A silver flash blazed, and they were summarily severed and brought down.
The moment Might landed on the ground, Eugene leveled his sword without a tremor.
"This isn't a thoughtless attack that merely swings brute strength around."
It was a martial art that had been patiently refined while observing thousands of years of hunting and territorial strife.
It was primal and direct, yet all superfluity had been pared away to the extreme. And it was interwoven with cunning concealed strikes.
[Arise!]
Shaking her leaves, Nínloth emitted a powerful pulse of magic. At that, the monstrous beings that had fallen all around began to writhe.
Mycelia and stalks of wood rapidly grew into the fissures that hammers and sling-stones had smashed apart, filling them.
Snap!
One by one, the monstrous corpses that had lain upon the ground opened their eyes.
"This is insane!"
The dwarf warriors who met their gaze felt a crawling chill run over their skin. It was a profound revulsion of a different sort from the disquiet that the undead provoked.
All fell into confusion, unsure whether to maintain the encirclement or break formation to prevent the resurrection of those creatures. At this rate, the reanimated monstrosities would soon fall upon their rear lines.
At that moment, Marbas stepped forward.
"Spirits wandering the earth. Rest here a while."
As Marbas' reagent-dampened hands formed a seal, the monstrous beings that had been rising collapsed once more.
This was because the hastily invoked necromancy had drawn in all manner of souls and lingering thoughts that wandered the vicinity. They settled into the bodies of the monstrous beings without exception.
Of course, when spirits were forcibly crammed in this haphazard fashion, a struggle for stakeholding erupted within the corpses and chaos unfolded.
Since the entire body moved of its own errant accord, like a broken cat, they could not serve as minions. That was exactly what Marbas had intended.
"Forget the magic I used, I beg you. I've no wish to be dragged before the Order and interrogated!"
"Of course!"
"We saw nothing, wizard."
The dwarf warriors nodded vigorously in agreement.
Breathing soul into corpses was forbidden magic. Around five hundred years ago, mere suspicion of necromancy could drag you before the Order for judgment, and if your luck was poor, you burned at the stake.
Summoners were, in a sense, like artisans who made hemp cloth: they were respected as people who benefited society, but the moment they tried to use any part of the plant besides the stalk, they were punished like drug dealers.
[A necromancer! Why do you side with the humans? Necromancers have ever been noble allies of nature!]
"When is that tale from? These days everyone has renamed themselves summoners and lives by the law."
It seemed the Forest Spirit was slow to update her knowledge of the world.
Balthazar, curled inside Nínloth, suddenly felt her unease amplify.
Nínloth had not faced Eugene so boldly because she trusted in her own strength alone.
The manor grounds were littered with the corpses of the monstrous thralls. She could raise them again and again, fielding an immortal army of the dead.
Unlike the undead, silver could not neutralize them, and no matter how much you destroyed them, she could simply fill the gaps with mycelia and plants and raise them anew.
But the unlooked-for presence of a summoner had shattered her plan. In an instant, she had thrown herself willingly into the midst of an elite army.
"Might. I entrust my life to you."
As Eugene's legs squeezed the horse's flanks, Might, his eyes burning violet, charged.
Nínloth tried to meet the knight who assailed her from the front, but she sensed the shrieking of projectiles coming from all sides.
"Break her apart!"
The warriors of the Hammer Brotherhood hurled the weapons they had been holding all at once.
The stones flung from staff slings could at best lightly chip Nínloth's surface.
But the hammers flying now carried destructive force of an entirely different order. Their weight alone was ten times greater.
Even Nínloth dared not take them on her body and dodged frantically.
"Keep throwing! Don't give the wretch a moment's rest!"
"Hoo!"
Surrounded as she was, it was impossible to dodge every one of the dozens of hammers. Struck here and there, Nínloth spilled screams along with her sap.
[You coward! And you call yourself a knight?]
"Indeed. It grieves my heart. I shall have to offer a prayer of penance to Goddess Vanas when I return."
Nínloth's face twisted at Eugene's faintly smiling manner.
Once the dwarves had nearly exhausted the hammers they carried, the throwing grew sparser.
But because they stood in a round encirclement, the hammers each had thrown were now rolling around in front of the others. Everyone rushed to retrieve them.
Nínloth did not merely watch. She dropped to all fours and charged like a bull, and the dwarves in that direction hastily scrambled back.
Wham!
But while her attention was thus divided, Eugene's javelin lodged itself in her flank.
[Son of a biiitch!]
The spear had pierced through her nearly like a skewer, and the Forest Spirit howled.
"Charge!"
"Support the Castle Lord!"
Haind and the tribal knights each gripped a spear and spurred forward.
"Don't close in for hand-to-hand! Strike from a distance!"
At Eugene's command, the knights maneuvered ceaselessly, aiming only for Nínloth's blind spots. To face a being of that order head-on was not courage — it was madness.
The javelins they launched while riding in were aimed at vulnerable points with far more precision than the hammers had been.
[You vermin!]
Nínloth tore a spear from her own body and hurled it back.
Neighhh—!
The spear, flying with terrifying force, pierced the warhorse of a tribal knight and slew it instantly.
Nínloth rushed to the dismounted knight and raised a foot to trample him, but was forced to halt the motion.
"Bind her!"
Cassandra and her decurions had thrown lasso ropes from every direction.
Cinch!
The moment the round loop of rope passed over Nínloth's wrist, it cinched tight and restrained her.
When the other shieldmaidens also seized the ropes and pulled as one, Nínloth's arms were stretched left and right as if she had been crucified.
And then Eugene's presence rushed in. Nínloth severed her own bound wrists, as a lizard cuts off its tail, and fled.
But she was an instant too late, and the silver blade deeply scored her back.
[What in the world is that horse?!]
Because of Might's otherworldly mobility, she could not take her eyes off Eugene for even a moment.
Each time the Etherje blade cut her, Nínloth felt the very mystery that constituted her being gouged away in chunks.
More than being injured and feeling pain, the sensation of her rank as a spirit being stripped away! It was unspeakably dreadful.
Perhaps realizing this course held no answer, Nínloth marshaled every ounce of her power for a finishing blow.
Across the body of the black, age-worn tree, faces reminiscent of mandrakes began to bloom.
"Cover your ears, all of you!"
Even those ignorant of magic could easily guess what was coming, if they had any instinct at all.
Just as the warriors were covering their ears, the mandrakes let out a unified shriek.
Screeeeech—!
Covering their ears did very little. The howl that dozens of mandrakes loosed at once was like a magical tidal wave.
The surge of mystery that pierced the flesh and shook the soul sent warriors sprawling in all directions.
In ordinary circumstances Nínloth would have leisurely ripped apart the helpless warriors, but she heard the thunder of hooves drawing near with terrifying momentum.
[What?]
Eugene had approached right up to her without even covering his ears. She could not believe how he had endured the mandrake scream, but this was no time to puzzle over it.
Screeeeeech—!
She squeezed out the last of her strength and loosed another shriek of malediction.
But as Eugene swept Last Autumn in a cross-stroke, the mandrake magic was torn to shreds.
[J-just...]
Those were Nínloth's last words.
Slash!
A pure white slash fell like lightning from above to below.
The dryad's body, the Forest Spirit that dwelt within it, and even the spirit mage curled inside were cloven in two.
A mystery that had existed for long ages, the sovereign of the mountains who had brought about calamities beyond measure. Her end was a hollow death.
* * *
"Augh, my head."
"Damned wretch. She had a hidden card after all."
As his subordinates staggered to their senses, Eugene searched the perimeter of the battlefield.
"What are you looking for?"
Cassandra, who being a witch had withstood the scream without much harm, asked.
"This very thing."
"Ah..."
Eugene knelt before the dark elf remains that had fallen from Nínloth's body early in the battle.
Their remaining nourishment had been swiftly stolen away, leaving only bone fragments and a portion of mummified hide. Eugene gathered them carefully, laid them upon a handkerchief drawn from his breast, and wrapped them.
"Now that the disaster's root has been dealt with, we can search at our leisure."
Cassandra nodded and offered a brief prayer before the remains.
The fight against the pirates, the monstrous thralls, and the Forest Spirit had been mere side matters. The core mission—to find the lost Black Hand Mercenary Company—began now in earnest.
"They must be alive..."
Though the shieldmaidens murmured as much, they were, in truth, not confident.
It was only because Eugene led such a mighty force that it ended well. An ordinary mercenary company would not have survived the battle just concluded.
The moment they had seen the corpse of a tribal warrior, dark imaginings had begun to well up in them all.
"Why are you lot so glum? It doesn't suit you."
"Straighten your shoulders! Here, have a drink of this."
The dwarf warriors, unable to look on any longer, pressed mushroom liquor on them, trying to lift their spirits.
But the main search was halted almost as soon as it began.
"Castle Lord! The main gate of the lord's residence is sealed with a magical ward!"
The darkest place was under the lamp.
Upon arriving at the manor, Eugene's army had been too busy fighting the monsters and then facing Nínloth to lay a finger on the mansion itself.
Now that there was leisure to finish clearing things, the men discovered the tightly shut entrance of the lord's residence. A warded talisman and a straw rope were wound around it.
"It's of our family's making."
Cassandra recognized it at once and exclaimed in joy.
"Rampage. Form a shield wall. Given the situation, survivors inside might attack in a panic."
"Understood."
With the dwarves and their tower shields at the front, Eugene removed the ward and broke down the locked door.
The spell was of a kind that repelled the energy of spirits, so it had no effect on people at all.
Inside, the mansion was in chaos, as though a battle had been fought there. The bones of what looked to be the lord's soldiers, manservants, and maidservants lay scattered everywhere. Some had sprouted spore bodies; others had plainly died as humans.
But not a single one wore the uniform of the Black Hand Mercenary Company.
"This way."
Eugene followed the scent of magic rising from a corner of the mansion.
At its end was a door leading to a cellar, likewise sealed with iron chains and talismans.
Knock. Knock-knock.
Eugene signaled with the coded knock used within the Black Hand Mercenary Company.
"...!"
"Ha!"
At once, a clamor of shocked and joyful breaths rose up from below.
'Thank goodness.'
As the silence broke and dozens of presences stirred upward all at once, Eugene let out a sigh of relief.
"It's Eugene Meyer. Is everyone safe?"
Eugene's voice passed through the wooden door between the ground floor and the cellar.
"The prophesied knight!"
"What did I tell you? I said he would surely come."
The breaths at once turned into murmuring voices.
Clang!
The cellar door flew open as though it would break. Along with the sight of the dark elves reduced to a ragged, beggarly state, a stench suddenly washed over them.
"This is no time for that! Quick, hide down here!"
"There's a mad spirit rampaging outside!"
They took hold of the hands of Eugene, the dwarf warriors, and the tribal shieldmaidens, trying to pull them down into the cellar.
"Urp!"
Some of those with weaker stomachs felt their heads swim from the smell wafting from just ahead.
"Did we look like that back then?"
Cassandra and the shieldmaidens gave bitter smiles, as if they saw their own recent circumstances layered over the scene.
Though many hands were pulling him, Eugene did not budge and calmly opened his mouth.
"Be at ease. The monsters outside and the forest spirit who was their source have been slain."
"I-is that true?"
"It is. So let us all go back together now—to the place that will become your new home."
Eugene said to the tribal warriors with a warm smile, all while breathing through his mouth.
End
ⓒ Gusojae#1wecx