1
Yuliana went looking for the girl and found her in a corner of the hallway, just outside the conference room. The small Court Wizard sat huddled on the floor by the wall, hugging her knees, her face hidden, and wouldn’t react to the approach of another person. Yuliana took a seat close next to the girl, drew her knees together in an unconscious imitation of the mage’s posture, in an instinctive quest for companionship, and spent a moment to consider her words.
What was there to say? It all felt so futile. No power in the world could undo what was done. No sound or syllable could lessen the grief or mend the damage. But there were still words that had to be said, regardless. She knew well enough what they were, but whether she was the right person to speak them was a different matter.
Sometimes in life, the correct thing to do was not necessarily the best thing to do—Yuliana had come a long, winding road to comprehend this lesson, full of somber experiences. Yet, running away from difficult situations was not an option for the Sovereign of the Western Continent, for one chosen as a leader of people. The words would hold no weight coming from anyone else.
“I’m sorry,” Yuliana said as she gazed down the empty hallway. “It was my plan. So is the responsibility. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Forgive me—had there been more selfish words in any language?
Absolve me, though you were the one who was hurt. It was unthinkable to say, even as a superficial gesture. Of course, she wanted to be forgiven. She wanted to restore their relationship the way it had been before any of this happened. As much as she loved and admired this little mage, she wanted to be loved and admired in return. Such was human nature. But she knew it was impossible. There could be no recovery from a blow as heavy. Nothing would ever be the same again.
Moreover, empress or not, she didn't think herself worthy of the favor of this girl, who had gone above and beyond the call of duty for their sake, only to be rewarded with sorrow. All she could do was make herself the target of her spite and hate for this one moment. And then tell her to stand and be a grown-up again.
There wasn’t even time for a funeral.
It was cruel. Much too cruel.
But cruel was also the silence. Margitte made no sound, nor looked up, but continued to sit leaning on her knees. She wouldn’t chastise her majesty, or scream, or vent, or cry. She didn’t move a muscle. No discernible reaction whatsoever.
That silence was worse than any pain.
Unbearable.
Before she realized, Yuliana found herself looking for excuses,
“I always knew my Lord was prideful. Strict. And that she didn’t think much of individual lives. But I still wanted to believe that she sought the good of life and all people. That she—”
Margitte suddenly raised her downcast face and turned to the Empress. Yuliana quickly silenced herself and regretted speaking. The girl’s tired eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks still wet with tears, but her lips were tightly pressed together, her expression tightened in unquestionable loathing.
“I pity you, your majesty,” Margitte said to Yuliana. “For having to live with such a monster inside you!”
Yuliana averted her face.
There was nothing she could say to that.
For the first time, in her heart of hearts, she was beginning to agree.
2
An hour later, the confidants resumed with their final meeting in Castle Walhollem. Their last one ever on Langorian soil. Before the night was done, they would either be free or in the company of their ancestors. All other thoughts and feelings had to be set aside, every effort focused towards successful escape.
General Monterey stood and began the briefing,
“Master Carmelia is installing the piece to the elven ship as we speak. Our men have confirmed that the cargo lift’s controls can be operated after rudimentary maintenance, which is also in progress. The lift can bring the ship out of the cavern by a shaft excavated through the cliffs. It exits to the canyons, a distance away from the castle. Inaccessible from outside, covered by a camouflaged trap door mechanism. We should be able to get away through there unnoticed, so long as we get the ship in working order. We will begin moving our personnel to the dock as soon as her grace gives us the go-ahead.”
“That is where the true trial begins,” the Marshal commented, not bothering to get up from her chair. “I’m afraid evacuating isn’t going to be as straightforward as merely packing up and leaving. As soon as they discover our intentions, the enemy will swarm the castle with their full strength. If but one breaks through and gets down to the ship, we can kiss our costly miracle goodbye.”
“I reckon the mages will be responsible for holding them off?” Arnwahl asked.
“And you.”
Arnwahl stopped smiling.
“Deception will be our primary weapon,” Miragrave continued. “We will sustain the illusion that the castle is populated for as long as we can, and evacuate in small groups, starting with the non-combatants. Then the rest, in order of ability, strongest obviously last.”
The commander paused to glance across the table at the mage seated at the corner.
“The heaviest burden in this operation is bound to fall again on our barrier expert. You are the only one able to deny the enemy’s entry deeper into the building and secure the departure of the others. You are only just returned from a difficult mission, but do you feel up to it, Master Beuhler?”
“Of course,” Margitte answered with a tough look, but it was rather clear she was pushing it. Her face remained pale and eyes bloodshot, and she couldn’t entirely hide the occasional sniffles that shook her thin shoulders. The mental shock aside, the fatigue from the earlier trip couldn’t have been entirely removed after only a quick nap.
“I place our lives in your hands,” Miragrave told the girl and turned her gaze a couple of seats left. “Izumi, I want you with Master Beuhler’s squad again. Your job will be to guard her with your life until the evacuation is completed. Can you do it?”
“Aye-aye,” Izumi answered with a nod.
“The rest of you will take charge of the remaining knights and assume a defensive formation within the castle building. From there, you are to withdraw in teams, one by one, and you will do so in the following order: her majesty, his highness, Monterey, myself, Deitriche, De Guillon, Arnwahl, and Master Beuhler last. General will assign your posts after the meeting. We will adapt the plan depending on how the situation develops along the way. Stay on your toes. Enemy scouts have already been detected within the castle. They seem content with merely observing for the time being, but when the change comes, it comes fast. Be ready for anything. Are there any questions left before we begin?”
There didn’t seem to be any. The instructions were fairly simple. The listeners stared quietly at the table, wearing grim faces. This could well be the last time they saw each other alive. What could be said?
The Prince and Yuliana both had likely complaints about the priority given to their evacuation, but it couldn’t be helped. Not only were they favored due to their political rank, their combat ability was no match against daemons. Them staying till the end wouldn’t have made any difference. Getting out of the way as speedily as possible was the best contribution they could make.
Izumi, in the meantime, had to wonder why Millanueve was so far down in the order. In theory, her magic sword could perhaps cut daemons, but she was still only human. She should’ve been sent away first among the civilians, or at the very least kept with Yuliana. Then again, Millanueve herself was likely to protest loudest against any such suggestions and demand a chance to pull her own weight.
Certainly, no role in the operation could be considered completely safe, but it still made Izumi uneasy. If something could go wrong, it would definitely go wrong.
Is it too much asked for all of us to make it?
A chair creaked. The confidants stirred from their reflections. The Marshal stood and the time for talking was done. She gave them all a severe look, as though to test their wills, and nodded.
“Then, ladies and gentlemen—godspeed.”
3
All the lanterns, chandeliers, and candles they had were lit, every fireplace stuffed full of wood to burn. If only those frail lights could distract the enemy, even a little. Windows had been reinforced with spells, unneeded doors sealed, and stairways to the upper floors had been barricaded, leaving only a straight line through the castle from the entrance hall to the chapel in the back.
When the enemy would attack, they would have to come through the front, and being able to determine this in advance made preparing the defenses easier. The main entrance was perhaps the easiest to close and hold, but if it was made too secure, then the daemons would begin to seek weaknesses elsewhere, and might unveil one in a most unfavorable position.
The main force secured the chapel and the tombs' entrance, where the servants awaited their turn to evacuate. A secondary force took over the throne room, with smaller advance squads to hold the two passages on the way to the entrance hall. And there they waited.
Arnwahl was responsible for the south side corridor, two combat mages for backup. Margitte was in charge of the north side, and Izumi was with her. Both teams only had a few additional knights with them, mainly for show. They weren’t going to hold the castle with numbers, even if they had any to boast. Their only chance was to force the enemy into bottleneck spots, where to best concentrate fire.
Fortunately, the builders of the castle had designed the stronghold long ago specifically with such a situation in mind. In the event that an invading army breached the wall and got into the castle, they wouldn’t be able to rush straight through the whole building, but would have to divide their force between the smaller corridors on the way, where they were easier to repel.
But the idea had never before been tested in practice.
Would the strategy work?
So far, the opponents made no move. Each squad was able to reach into position without a fight, which was taken as an encouraging sign. The foes sensed the presence of life; thus, scattering their small company as far and wide as possible, the defenders could hide their intentions and pretend like nothing had changed, for a time. A very limited time.
The front door was left slightly ajar after Izumi’s return.
“Should we attempt to close it, sir?” a knight asked Arnwahl, as they waited at the mouth of the hallway.
“I’d forget about it, if I were you,” the champion answered with a smile. “The more you try to keep something out, the more it wants to come in. Besides, nobody ordered us to close it.”
“Right…”
On the north side, Margitte drew runes on the floor and the walls with a piece of chalk.
“These traps will barely slow them down, but ought to be better than nothing,” she told Izumi. “At least they won’t slip by us unnoticed. I’ll have to keep them at bay with a proper barrier when the chaos begins.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Izumi asked her. “You were pretty pooped after the trip and everything. If only you told the Marshal you’re feeling under the weather, they would’ve taken you with the civvies. There’s no need for a kid like you to take one for the team. We can make do, one way or the other.”
“Idiot,” Margitte replied with forceful aloofness. “You’re spent too, aren’t you? A grandma like you is a hundred years too early to worry about me. Think about yourself first, before you fuss over others.”
“My, my. You really aren’t cute at all,” Izumi muttered. “Not by an iota.”
“I’m not acting cute for your sake, that’s for sure!”
The small Court Wizard abruptly paused and looked up, as if listening to a sound no one else could hear. Then she looked back at Izumi, an intense gleam in her eyes.
“The repairs are finished. They’ve begun to evacuate now.”
All clear for departure, the civilian staff started underground in small groups. Down the stairs behind the statue of Aiwesh, into the sepulcher, and on into the antediluvian shrine raised in the honor of the traitorous god. Through the back door and the tunnels, past the stone well and the bewildering stairway, and finally into the underground dock, where safety awaited. The trip was long and arduous, particularly so for the aged, and there was a generous gap between each group in case anything went wrong.
There were also two checkpoints along the way. The first one was in the temple sanctum, where a squad led by a magic officer would check everyone to see if there weren’t enemies blended among them. If hostiles were detected, they would close the door and deactivate the stairway to seal the tunnels. This meant death for all those left above—but it was better than losing the whole company.
The last line of defense, the final fail-safe, was Carmelia’s barrier field closing the shipyard entrance. The sorceress personally double-checked the people coming in. Hopefully, the infallibility of this checkpoint would never be put to the test.
The evacuation was bound to take a couple of hours in all.
They were long hours for the ones waiting their turn above. Oftentimes, Izumi had to wonder if time passed at all. She was beyond exhausted, mentally if not so much physically, and so were the knights.
Communicating with the other mages by means of magic tricks, Margitte kept her team alert and updated.
“The last group of servants just left. Her majesty is next.”
“About time…” Izumi mumbled in response and glanced towards the front door.
Then she looked again.
There were two figures below the stairs.
Children. Human children, two little girls in light dresses. They couldn’t have been older than five or six. They played ball on the red carpet before the door, seemingly ignorant of everything that went on about them. Looking closer, Izumi saw the game item was not actually a ball. It was a severed human head the girls were throwing to each other. Wherever had they taken it? Every now and then, due to the clumsiness of the small hands and undeveloped motor skills, the players dropped the head and it went tumbling lamely along the hard floor, sent here and there by its asymmetrical shape. It smeared the carpet with old blood wherever it touched, and bloodied were also the children’s hands and their dresses, as if it they had been crawling through mud. It didn’t seem to bother them. One of the girls chased after the head, picked it up, and threw it again. The damp crunch from the nose breaking on landing was audible across the room. The children laughed excitedly, though no sound came from their open mouths, their originals terminated before proper samples of their voices could be obtained.
“May the Lords have mercy on us…!” A knight grunted in horror as they watched that abominable game.
“Quiet,” Margitte told the troops. “Stand back, the lot of you. They’re trying to get a feel of our positions. Don’t look if you’re scared.”
They withdrew further back and drew their weapons, unsure of what would follow. What would Arnwahl’s team do? If either passage was penetrated, then the force gathered in the throne room would be in trouble. Margitte saw it wisest to contact the other squad’s mages and instruct them to hold their positions. Under no circumstances could they afford to make the first strike.
The tense peace was preserved for another ten minutes.
“The Prince of Luctretz is on the way down,” Margitte reported. “The General is next.”
“Nice.”
Izumi sneaked closer to the end of the corridor and took a peek past the corner. The children were gone. Only the mauled head was left.
“Yeah. Not creepy at all.”
They continued to wait with bated breath, while General Monterey and Miragrave’s groups departed below.
“What—?” Margitte suddenly made a sound and covered her ear, listening to another telepathic communication. With a startled look, she soon turned to Izumi.
“Enemy contact on the south side!”
“Really?” Izumi asked in surprise. She couldn’t hear anything, no matter how she strained her ears. Then again, there was quite some distance and a lot of stone in the way. They all stood on guard and ready, but nothing moved on their end.
Margitte’s expression soon softened as she listened on with a faint sigh.
“...Arnwahl’s taken care of it, it seems,” she reported. “That was awfully quick.”
In the next moment, her expression turned extraordinarily agitated again.
“—Whaaat!? What do you mean he’s leaving!?”
“Huh?” Izumi questioned her. “What? What happened?”
“Arnwahl said he’s going to withdraw!” the magician angrily reported. “If they leave the other side open, then there’s no point in us staying here either! We’ll only get cut off! Oh, we have to regroup in the throne room! Aah, what is that fraud of a knight thinking!?”
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Leaving only loose traps behind, the team retreated to the marble hall of the king, where the others waited. Lieutenant Deitriche and Millanueve’s squads were still there, and Arnwahl had joined them with his knights.
“What in the name of Lords are you doing!” Margitte angrily questioned the champion. “I told you to hold position! We’re only supposed to retreat when the last team from the throne room is on the way! It’s still much too soon!”
“So you said,” Arnwahl replied without much remorse. “But I’m afraid it is now or never. My sword’s effectiveness goes down at night. The earlier skirmish was but a test, but it compelled me to revise my estimate of the threat level. If more than two enemies show up at once, defeat becomes a very real possibility. I cannot do my duty, if I’m dead, so lingering there serves no purpose. Furthermore, as a champion of the Guild, I only need to obey direct orders from her majesty. Otherwise, I will mainly depend on my personal judgment.”
“You’re nothing but a coward, bailing at the first hint of trouble!” the magician berated him. “And her majesty will hear of this, Arnwahl! You can be sure of that!”
“Duly noted, Master Beuhler,” the man merely replied with a smile.
“Your grace,” Lieutenant Deitriche spoke, “just to be sure, is my team still to go next?”
“Yes, yes, get lost already!”
The magician waved off the officer and the group departed for the chapel by the southern exit.
“This didn’t go as planned at all!” Margitte grumbled and gazed at the hall around. “I can’t sustain a barrier large enough to cover this much space for long. We’ll all have to retreat to the chapel. But if they push us even further from there, the checkpoint will be compromised...Enemy presence makes verifying the personnel unreliable and would put the ship at risk…Aah, geez, you’ve really put us to the spot, you jerk.”
“What should we do, Margitte?” Millanueve asked the girl. “I heard there’s crowd in the well stairs, and the check in the shrine is proceeding slower than expected. They still need more time.”
The mage answered the girl with a blank, wordless look. Then she glanced at Izumi, and looked away.
“I see...Yes, I suppose that’s how it's going to be…”
Vaguely muttering so to herself, Margitte started to rummage through her side bag. “Here, you dumb girl—a gift.” She took out a small item and tossed it to Millanueve, who reflexively caught it in her hands.
“This is your shadowmeter…?” Millanueve looked at the bronze cluster and blinked in confusion. “But why…?”
“Hold onto it for me,” the magician told her. “It’s not like I really need it myself. It’s the first prototype, so take good care of it. It might be worth a lot of money some day.”
“But…”
Izumi frowned at the girl’s strange behavior, but Margitte didn’t meet her look. She continued to scour her pockets and took out the stimulant vial they had been given, and emptied it in one go.
“All right!” she exclaimed with a resolute grin and threw the vial away. “This has kick, to be sure! Let’s try a little harder, shall we! Magic is almighty—didn’t I tell you that!?”
Margitte raised her palms and conjured a barrier field outwards similar to Fairy Sphere in effect, but a level plane instead of a dome. She extended it across the throne room from wall to wall, and from the floor up to the ceiling, leaving no spot for the enemy to sneak through.
And not a moment too soon.
Barely was the magic wall erect when a blot of darkness struck it from outside with a resounding bang that made everyone stagger back a step. The spot spread out in a cloud of smoke, then to solidify in the shape of a horrendous creature a few steps back. Without further delay, Arnwahl seized his sword and drew it partway out. A sharp flash of red fire and heat followed. Nothing solid could pass through the shielding, but radiation was different matter. A blink later, the beast’s left arm and shoulder were gone in flames, seared away without a trace. The rest of the figure fell apart and they already thought it had perished. But barely a heartbeat later, the dark smoke condensed right outside the wall of glowing tiles in a considerably smaller size.
Margitte gritted her teeth in disgust and dread as her own mirror image stared back at her.
The other Margitte raised a finger to her lip with an unsettling, succubean smile, and whispered,
“Tick, tock. Tick, tock.”
Arnwahl unsheathed his sword a second time, but the daemon vanished in a whirling cloud of shadow before he could strike. The fiend reappeared briefly in the back of the throne room, but the man drew out the full length of the blade and held it up above him, and forced the creature withdraw out of view. A silence followed.
They all stood stunned by that quick glimpse of horror, until Margitte’s voice brought them back to their senses.
“It’s your turn,” she told Millanueve. “Take your squad out of here.”
“No!” the knight maiden replied with an intense look of concern in her eyes. “I want to stay here with you to the last. Please, let us stay!”
“Don’t be stupid,” the mage said. “There is nothing you can do here.”
“That’s not true,” Millanueve insisted. “We may not be able to fight with you, but...there’s strength in just being together, isn’t there? You’re not alone, Margitte. We all believe in you, I want you to know that.”
Before Margitte could say anything, Arnwahl sheathed his sword and turned away.
“Then, I hope you won’t mind if we use Lady De Guillon’s turn,” he said.
He was answered with reproachful glares by Izumi and the young Court Wizard, but promptly ignored them.
“Truly, the enemy is every bit as formidable as they say,” he remarked with a smile. “After seeing it only twice in action, they’ve already gauged Kettergaum’s activation lag and cooldown period. Should Master Beuhler’s magnificent spell fail here, I fear there is naught at all we can do to hold them back. That cold cunning of theirs sort of reminds me of someone.”
The man gave Izumi a meaningful look, before he turned his back and led his squad out of the throne room, his blue cape fluttering. Some of the knights in Millanueve’s group looked like they wanted to protest against this unfair turn of events and their leaders’ needless charity, but kept their mouths in the Court Wizard’s presence.
“You really are a dummy,” Izumi told Millanueve.
“Are you saying you would’ve done otherwise yourself?” the girl replied.
Izumi could only make a helpless smile in answer.
They waited together, grim and attentive, expecting the enemy to fall upon them from virtually anywhere. But the castle stayed quiet. Save for the unsettling pressure of being under close scrutiny by minds inhuman and murderous, there was no sign of the inevitable all-out assault yet.
“Can’t they make it any faster below…?” Margitte grunted.
Small beads of sweat gathered on her brow in a token of the great effort it took to maintain the barrier and her outreached arms looked tired too.
“How are you holding up, So-chan?” Izumi asked her.
“I’m fine!” the girl insisted. “There’s still tons and tons of life left in me!”
“We should all retreat to the chapel together,” Millanueve suggested. “Blocking only the entrance to the sepulcher should be much easier for you.”
“You think I wouldn’t have done that already, if I could?” Margitte snorted. “This isn’t where I wanted to take a stand! But moving from this place is no longer an option.”
“Huh? Why’s that?”
“Only Fairy Sphere is mobile and it can’t cover all of us. Moreover, the path would be wide open while we’re moving. That’s precisely what the enemy is waiting for. Don’t think they’re not close just because you can’t see them. We give them an opening now and they’ll pour right through us in force. Everyone between us and Master Carmelia will be dead, and so will we. No matter what happens, I can’t leave from this spot until all the others are safe and that ship ready to go. You, on the other hand, should get going now. I think that scoundrel’s group is already at the temple.”
“...All right.”
Millanueve bit her lip in regret and looked at Izumi.
Izumi looked back at the girl and forced a small smile. “Well. See you later.”
“—You go with them,” Margitte suddenly told the woman.
“Huh?”
“You can’t leave anything up to chance, right?” the young magician nonchalantly continued, without showing her face. “You know what’s really important to you. So don’t let go of it, even once, or you’re sure to regret it. I have no need for you here, if your mind is elsewhere. If anything, you standing there looking ever so stupid is spoiling my focus. Sergeant and his men will do your job a lot better, and they know to keep their mouths shut too. So do me a favor and get out of my sight.”
“So-chan…” Izumi took a fleeting second to weigh duty and need, but that choice was easily made. “...I’ll come back for you, as soon as I get the others to safety. No giving up in the meantime, okay? Grin and bear it! Wait for me!”
“Oh, I have no intention to die in such a creepy place!” Margitte replied. “But if you don’t hurry up, I might leave you behind myself.”
“Master Beuhler!” Millanueve called, a look of pain on her flushed face. “...Thank you.”
“I didn’t decide it for your sake, doofus,” the magician replied. “And you’d better not trip on your way down and break your neck, or I’ll feel very stupid!”
4
With Izumi for backup, Millanueve’s group departed from the throne room, feeling mixed. Relief for the closeness of escape, and dread that something might still go wrong, and worry for those still behind.
They jogged along the central hallway to the chapel, where the marble face of the winged Divine greeted them, and descended the spiral stairs to the tombs of the kings of eld. They went in silence past the caskets of stone and along the stairs to the Shrine of Brann. Torches and candles had been set throughout the way to light their descent to the windowless chambers, where the Langorians had in distant nights prayed to their alien icon to release them from the shackles of mortality and paid loathsome tribute.
In the back of the sanctum, the first checkpoint awaited them.
A mage officer stood between the pillars past the altar, a shadowmeter in hand. Two knights held post by the side walls, ready to operate the switches and close the passage, if any enemies made it here. Their discipline had seen better days. So far removed from the thrills above, the uneventful hours of the night had done them more damage than daemons. The man on the east side sat leaning the wall, ready to pass out. The one on the other side was chatting with two other guards and was away from his switch.
“All right, you go first,” Millanueve told her team and sent them ahead. The knights lined up and proceeded to be verified by the mage, while Millanueve turned back to Izumi. The woman stood on the aisle between the stone benches and stared towards the entrance.
“Do you think they’re going to be fine?” the girl asked her.
Izumi didn’t answer.
“We can manage the rest of the way on our own,” Millanueve continued. “You should go back to Margitte now. She must be so scared. As hard as she tries to hide it.”
Now Izumi turned back.
“Not until you’re safely on that ship,” she said. “If anything can go wrong, it definitely will. I’m not making the same mistake again.”
She reached out and moved aside the strands of hair that hung over Millanueve’s right eye and smiled fondly. “You only get so many second chances. No, this is probably around the eighth or the ninth chance for me. Not even a god would forgive me if I wasted it now. And even if they did, I wouldn’t.”
“…I’m happy,” Millanueve whispered. But there was also frustration in her voice, conflict on her face. “I’m really happy to hear that. But—I’m not the only one in danger here. Thinking I would be favored over so many others—I don’t know what I should think about that. It doesn’t make me happy at all!”
“Happy but not happy, huh?”
“It’s a complicated feeling, okay?”
“I know what you mean,” Izumi said with a crooked smile. “You don’t always get the easy choices, where one option is clearly wrong and one is clearly right. They all tend to come with their ups and downs. So you can only pick the path you feel is the best one. The one where you stay true to yourself the whole way. The one you won’t regret, even if it doesn’t pan out right, because you chose it for the right reason. I won’t hold it against you, if you resent me for choosing like this, if you think it’s unfair. But you should know I’m not planning to ever regret it.”
Millanueve looked up at the woman and smiled a bittersweet smile.
“...I think it’s a little more ‘happy’ than ‘not happy’ now,” she said.
Across the hall, the check was proceeding slowly.
“Can’t you wave that thing any quicker?” a knight asked the mage scanning the foremost troop in the line. Very few magicians had telepathic abilities on the level of Court Wizards, but had to depend on the shadowmeter to confirm enemy presence.
With so many people in one room, and so many enemies above, the device’s spin was highly irregular. It took some time to determine whether its movements were related to the person being surveyed, or not. But no one could be allowed through until the result was clear beyond reasonable doubt.
The Magic Corporal had heard a great deal of complaints in these past hours and had grown quite irritable. He wanted out just as bad as anyone.
“Everyone gets verified. Those are orders.”
“Orders, orders!” the man in the line continued to grumble. “Have you seen what’s going on up there? You’re out of your godsdamned mind!”
He was a veteran knight, closer to thirty than twenty. His name was Hemhdal, or close enough. He had left his helmet somewhere. Unsightly conduct for an Imperial elite knight, but no one cared about keeping up appearances in such a situation. The past two weeks weren’t easy on anyone, never mind the long journey before. Now that they were this close to rescue, growing impatient was understandable.
But orders were orders.
“Be quiet, or you’re going to the end of the line,” one of the watchers told the noisy soldier.
“Look, mate,” the knight responded, pointing his finger at the soldier. “If this were the bad me, you’d already be dead!”
The guards shifted nervously at such a remark. The words didn’t seem to make much sense. Was he drunk? He didn’t smell of alcohol. Probably sleep-deprived and rambling. Having shared this piece of his mind, the man went quiet, looking smug, and no further disturbances came. The mage felt unwell and tried to work faster. The first and the second on the liner were all clear. So was the third man. Then came Hemhdal’s turn. A gloating smile on his rough face, he stepped up and the Magic Corporal started his examination. He brought the bundle of bronze rings close to the man’s chest, and moved it slowly around. The arrow pointed straight at the soldier, clean and steady. The Corporal had never seen it be so perfectly still before. Was it broken? He moved his hand sideways left and right and again, but the arrow remained firmly fixed at Hemhdal. At long last, the mage’s tired brain registered what he was looking at.
He fell pale and looked up,
“No.”
The explosion of terror in the man’s brain meant the imposter was exposed. Hemhdal’s expression turned blank. He stepped forward and gripped the Corporal’s neck, lifted him off the ground, and tore his head off the shoulders. Blood sprayed from the ripping arteries, showering the soldiers nearby, while ligaments popped apart. For a few mute seconds, they could only stare on in shock and horror.
Then one of the knights found his voice.
“SHIFTER! WE HAVE A SHIFTER!”
The troop last in the line drew his sword and cut the masquerading fiend. His sword produced a flat tap as it landed on Hemhdal’s shoulder, unable to cut one inch into the flesh of the enemy. The daemon kicked back like a mule. The knight took the boot in the gut, was blown off his feet, and thrown against the pillar behind him. He hit the corner, spun around it, tumbled in the pit before the altar, and didn’t get up.
The guard who had stood by the mage gave up at once. He turned to run into the open tunnel before it would be closed, but was far too slow. With a quick hop, the monster was behind him and crouched to seize his ankle. It picked him up like a doll and threw him across the hall into the side wall. A broken crash of metal rang through the room and he fell on the floor his backbone in pieces.
The troops responsible for their switches scrambled to do their job.
As when the path was opened, both switches had to be operated in tandem to close it. The man on the east side was soon up on his feet and at the switch, and turned to see how his pair was doing. The man in the west left the conversation with his compatriots, and dashed for the second lever as quickly as he could. Then the abomination in the shape of the senior knight was beside him, gripping the outreached arm. It pulled him away from the switch, lifted him high up, and stuck its finger into the man’s abdomen, under the chestplate.
“AAAAARGHHHH—!” the gored soldier howled in pain, kicking the foe to no effect.
One of the knights he’d just been chatting with took his bow and fired an arrow at the monster’s back. The arrow sank through a shapeless coil of black mist and hit the switch man, who at once became enveloped in a burst of bright green flames, dead on the spot.
Where did the beast go?
The bowman sought the target left and right in confusion. Shadows cast by torch light shifted along the floor, and revealed where the camouflaged enemy was going. The knight turned to pursue it—but realized his mistake too late. There was nothing there to cast the shadow, the threat was the shadow itself. The fiend sprang up from the floor, returned to its own hideous shape, and punched the soldier off his feet. He shot up at the ceiling and fell down in a crushed, mauled heap of meat, cloth, and plate.
The daemon turned to the soldier at the second switch.
And then the Amygla’s blade dug through the monster’s flank.
“Hold still, will you!” Izumi requested with a grimace, and drew her sword on through the iron flesh. The blade freed, she turned back with a quick spin and cut up at the daemon’s neck.
Despite the deep wound, the beast was able to dodge by leaning deep to the side and retaliated with a backhanded swing. Izumi bent her knees low to duck under the heavy fist. She drew her shoe across the floor in a round arc, stepped to away and around, and cut at the open wound on the monster’s side. But her blade sliced through only smoke, and the target was gone.
Tendrils of darkness seemed to coil everywhere around her, the flow of illusory particles seductively slow and gentle in her accelerated vision. With Sifl or without, she couldn’t guard against every direction. So she took a step forward, to run. As soon as she picked a direction, the foe took shape close behind her. Izumi ran on, and up the wall next to the western switch. Partway up towards the ceiling, she kicked off the face of stone and somersaulted high over the chasing creature. She used the turning motion to swing her blade around and down and aimed to cleave the fiend’s head as she glided over it.
After Carmelia’s fine-tuning, the rune’s effectiveness had improved a distinct notch. No human could’ve kept up with her acceleration.
But there was no running away from daemons. The abomination could follow her even in this silent, colorless realm where seconds crawled. The horrid face turned up at her. The daemon caught the edge of the descending blade between its bare teeth and stilled it. The powerful neck turned. Legs firmly planted on the stone floor like the roots of a petrified tree, it leaned back and pulled Izumi along.
The monster drew her over in a wide arc and spat her across the sanctum floor. She made a rushed landing next to the altar, and kept sliding a lengthy distance across the dust-covered stone. As soon as her momentum stilled, she pushed back up to meet the creature that already came hot in pursuit.
The huge fist swung down. She retaliated with a firm, two-handed grip, force against force, and soon realized her mistake. Choosing to receive the hit, she was now locked in place. At once, the daemon began to bombard her with punches of explosive force and even with Gram to enhance her muscles, Izumi struggled to divert the hits. It wasn’t playing around now. There was no time to strike back or retreat. Unless she took care to counter every strike with full power, she would be done. The floor trembled at the forces passing through her frame, sand poured from cracks in the ceiling, and Izumi found herself steadily cornered.
Humans could lose strength and spirit and give up, but monsters wouldn’t. It would keep at it without tiring until she broke, even if it took a hundred years. She didn't have a century, only some seconds.
Damn it…! Is it really impossible to win without the element of surprise?
If a clean kill was not possible, then it became a matter of what should be sacrificed. She could perhaps create an opening by deliberately taking a blow. With Ohrm, she could restore any injury that wasn’t immediately fatal and escape the deadlock. The left arm was expendable. Maybe either leg. A hit anywhere below the ribs could be survivable, in theory. But the next move had to decide the fight. The monster wouldn’t get through Carmelia below, perhaps, but everyone in the chamber here and above would be dead.
And Millanueve…
“Ghhh….!” Izumi poured all she had into her cuts. Every ounce of mana her body could withstand, the modest might of her mortal frame. Just a little faster, stronger…
Suddenly, Izumi saw something very weird.
A thin, frail ray of light cut through the darkness.
It took her a moment to realize what it meant. Stabbed from behind, the daemon’s movements slowed. Not by much, but by enough. Izumi didn’t waste the chance. Like a bowstring held far back and finally released, she struck aside the heavy limb falling at her, turned half a circle to build up moment, and swung the greatsword through the neck of the beast.
Like a mountain of thoroughly burned coal, the hulking figure began to fall apart. As the dust gradually scattered, Izumi turned to look at Millanueve, who stood there with her rapier drawn, stilled in the cutting motion.
Fear and resolve still battled in the girl’s round blue eyes.
The utter lack of the will to kill—the purity of heart that mortal swordsmen considered a critical weakness had made the maiden all but invisible to the monster. She had acted without thinking, out of an innate compulsion, heedless of consequences, win or lose.
Only because the idea of not doing anything at all was even more intolerable than dying.
A sense of assuring warmth spread in Izumi’s chest. As close as she had been to death just now, she felt more at peace than she probably ever had before. It was the kind of peace that followed knowing something for certain, being forever freed of all doubt. She took a moment to admire the maiden’s features before she deactivated Sifl, and the world was restored to its usual grim sharpness and sound.
Millanueve watched the daemon’s remains collapse and fade away, unsure of how it had happened exactly, but ultimately contented with survival.
“Are you all right?” she asked Izumi, doubtful if anyone could be fine after such a rumble.
“I am,” Izumi said and smiled.
“I am now.”