Friday, 19 October 2018
Chapter 06
The creaking and groaning of the rusty
horn was violent to the ears but could
be heard clearly all throughout the
fortress. Given that a goblin was blowing
into the pipe as hard as he could, it
made sense that the resultant noise would
be
both loud and
hideous. Or perhaps
the goblins considered
it to sound
gallant.
They were dressed in a mismatched array
of rags, many of which they had
produced by tearing up the clothing they
stole from the village women. They
carried drums of skin and bone, which
made a hollow sound when they beat
them.
One
after another, the
goblins flooded into
the central courtyard
of the
fortress.
“ORARAG!”
“GORRB!!”
“GROOOB!!”
They raised their fists and howled,
flecks of dark spittle flying from their
lips.
It
was obvious enough
what their excited
voices meant. They
were
shouting
out taunts, or
invective, or giving
voice to their
resentment,
jealousy, and greed. The collective
hatred was turned upon all those who had
what they did not.
To the goblins, it was also as if they
were hailing their hero. The one who
took their wishes upon himself, the one
who slaughtered the foolish humans.
Goblins actually have a strong feeling of
solidarity, but at the same time,
they hate to take the initiative to do
anything themselves. Instead, they leave
everything to
a chief, or
shaman, or lord.
That leaves them
free to chase
anything
that glitters—literally or
proverbially—be it food
or drink, or
women, or gear. Free to drag down those
who have what they do not and cut
them to pieces.
No goblin wants to die. If his brother
dies, he gets angry and feels he must
take revenge.
And goblins hold all this at once,
feeling no contradiction.
“GORARARARAUB!!!!”
At
last, an even
louder voice asserted
itself, and the
goblin behind it
appeared, his stride full of menace.
He
wore a grimy
steel helmet; a patchwork of
metal armor covered
his
body. A crimson cloak—he had torn down a
curtain from someplace—served
as a further covering. At his hip he
carried a shining silver sword so striking
that to the goblins, it seemed nearly
sacred.
“ORARAG!
ORRUG!” The goblin
paladin. At his
great and somber
voice, the goblins knelt as one.
Together, they bowed their heads, and a
path opened among them like the
parting of a sea. The goblin paladin
began to walk among them, regally, his
cape fluttering.
The tip of the scabbard in which his
silver sword rested scraped along the
ground, but he seemed to pay it no mind.
He
advanced toward a
huge throne, built
of junk and
corpses. His
hideously
twisted face seemed
to suggest an
element of pride.
He could
almost
have looked humorous,
like a caricature
of a human
being—but one
infinitely depraved and cruel.
§
“We’ve miscalculated.”
The party had just left the armory.
Goblin Slayer was looking out into the
central courtyard from the hallway,
clicking his tongue and not sounding very
happy.
High Elf Archer gave him a quizzical
look. “How so? Isn’t that the enemy
boss? I could pick him off from here…”
“That
you mustn’t do,”
Lizard Priest said
gently. “That would
leave us
with only a headless army of goblins, and
there is no telling what they might
do.” The quick-tempered archer already
had a bud-tipped arrow in her bow.
“But I believe that is not all, is it,
milord Goblin Slayer?”
“No,” he said. Then, quietly, he added,
“Can you not see it?”
“…They’re just goblins, aren’t they?”
“That’s right.”
This
caused High Elf
Archer to twitch
her long ears,
perplexed. This
wasn’t
making sense to
her, nor was
she sure what
they had miscalculated.
Yes, there had been some hiccups in the
plan, but she felt it had gone pretty
well overall…
“That goblin is the master of this
fortress.”
“…?”
“This is a ceremony. They’re going to
present ranks or awards.”
“Oh!”
It was not
High Elf Archer,
but Priestess, who
exclaimed. She
clapped
a hand over
her own mouth,
then peeked at
the courtyard from
the
hall. Thankfully, none of the goblins
seemed to have noticed over the grating
sounds their ugly little band was making.
Priestess
put a hand
to her chest
in relief, and
then with all
seriousness,
she gave the answer.
“There’s always a priest at ceremonies
like this…!”
Indeed. If this ceremony followed typical
goblin style, the priest would be
called forward.
Whether
or not the
priest was involved,
that was still
the goblin paladin
before
them, the creature
who had apparently
received a handout
from the
god of external knowledge.
But as far as that goblin priest went…
“…………Oh.”
A tiny, shaking voice escaped Noble
Fencer’s lips. Her lovely face went
slightly
pale. She clenched
her fists, her
arms still wrapped
in bandages.
What
had those hands
of hers done?
What had she
done with them?
On a
whim? In the caprice of a moment?
Her eyes wavering, she looked from one
member of the party to another.
“Well,
he’s not far
away,” Dwarf Shaman
said as if
nothing much were
going on. “But he’s permanently
indisposed.” He stroked his beard with one
hand,
reaching into his
bag of catalysts
with the other;
his expression was
seriousness itself. “I suppose this might
be a bit of a problem.”
No one could say anything in response to
his whisper.
They all understood the situation they
were in.
Even a cursory glance at the goblins in
the courtyard suggested there were
more
than fifty monsters
there. And the
adventurers were right
there with
them. What would happen when the goblins
discovered their presence?
Goblin slaying is as old as time; it has
been taking place since the world
was
born. And whenever
it does, the
goblins have always
outnumbered the
adventurers.
Those heroes who are unprepared, who
challenge the goblins blindly, are
killed.
All the more
so when they
try to give
battle in the
very heart of the
nest.
Goblin Slayer was no exception to this
rule.
How was this odd adventurer with his
strange ways going to make up for
the difference in numbers? They had been
adventuring together for close to a
year. There was no way she wouldn’t know.
Then it happened.
“…O-ow…!”
Noble Fencer, her
hands still clenched,
went stiff and
grunted in pain.
“Wh-what’s wrong?”
Priestess approached her
almost automatically,
checking for injuries, but she saw no
obvious wounds. But…
“Hrr-rrr-ghh…gah…”
“Sh-she’s so hot…!”
Noble
Fencer’s skin was
hot to the
touch, seemingly almost
enough to
burn.
“What’s going on?” Goblin Slayer asked.
“I—I don’t know. But this…”
Remember. Think back. Priestess desperately searched her memory.
There were no external injuries, and it
wasn’t likely to be poison. Heat in
the body. Almost as if a spell had been
cast on her.
A spell? No. This was no simple magic.
And there were no totems here. A
paladin. A cleric.
Divine punishment… A curse. A curse?
“Oh…!”
Priestess
looked down at
where Noble Fencer’s
recently shortened hair
revealed the nape of her neck. The cruel
brand burned into the skin there, the
eye of the green moon, was shining
brightly, as if aflame.
“It’s…!”
“Haah… Hrrrgh… Arrgh…”
Noble
Fencer writhed, sinking
her teeth into
her own arm
in hopes of
suppressing her
groans of pain.
Priestess held on
to the warrior’s
burning
body
for dear life,
looking up at
Lizard Priest. He
was Silver-ranked, the
most experienced cleric there. Now he let
out a hissing breath.
“A curse from the evil gods! I must
dispel it. No, we’ve no time…!”
They
had been careless.
They had considered
the brand to
be nothing
more than another example of the goblins’
vile cruelty.
Now
they understood: it
was because of
the curse that
even a healing
miracle had not been able to erase the
scar.
“O
Earth Mother, abounding
in mercy, lay
your revered hand
upon this
child’s wounds!”
Even
so, there was
no time to
dawdle. Priestess implored
the Earth
Mother
to give them
healing. The merciful
goddess brushed the
girl’s neck
with her finger, pitting herself against
the curse that resided there. But…
“GORUB?!”
“ORARARAGU?!”
All at once, a hubbub began to spread
among the goblins in the courtyard.
The
adventurers saw that
the ceremony was
proceeding apace; now the
monsters were only waiting for their
priest and his sacrifice.
But he didn’t appear. He did not come.
After
a moment, the
goblin paladin muttered,
“ORG,” and sent a lackey
scurrying off.
He
was no doubt
headed for the
basement prison. He
would find the
priest’s body, along with the freed
prisoners—it was only a matter of time.
“ORARARAGAGA!!” the
goblins shouted, the
collective noise growing
in strength.
The goblin paladin jumped up and howled
out what seemed like a bizarre
prayer. “IRAGARAU!”
“Hrraaaaaaahhh!” Noble Fencer bellowed,
no longer able to fight the pain.
Then everything happened at once.
Looking into the courtyard, Goblin Slayer
grabbed his sword. The goblin
paladin was looking right at him.
Their
eyes met. One
gaze hidden by
a steel helmet,
the other a
pair of
golden pupils. And then—
“ORAGARAGARAGARA!!!!”
“Get down!”
At the goblin paladin’s command, archers
turned and let loose a volley of
arrows
with sickening agility.
At the same
moment, Goblin Slayer
dove to
the side, catching the two girls as he
went.
“Eek!”
“…?!”
Priestess
exclaimed; Noble Fencer
made no sound
but was obviously
startled. Goblin Slayer ignored them,
raising his shield.
Thop, thop, thop. A limp sound rang out as the arrows showered
against it.
Goblins are not strong creatures to begin
with; when they had to fire upward,
the fact was only magnified.
Goblin
Slayer picked up
one of the
arrows; he found
the head was
only
loosely attached. And yet, the little
monsters were trying to make the arrows
work over a long distance.
“A poor imitation.”
A
hollow sound of
metal accompanied the
continuing rain of
arrows.
Goblin Slayer grunted, throwing away the
bolt in his hand as if it interested
him
not at all.
Then he looked
back at Priestess
and Noble Fencer,
keeping
his shield up to protect them as he
spoke.
“Are you all right?”
“Oh, uh, y-yes. Thank you.”
“It’s no problem.”
“……”
Noble
Fencer said nothing,
averting her eyes
from where she
lay under
Goblin Slayer’s chest, but she nodded.
“Good.”
That was enough. He looked next at where
their companions were located
some distance away.
“What about you?”
“Fine, somehow!” High Elf Archer said.
“In danger of getting crushed, though,”
Dwarf Shaman said with a wave.
Lizard Priest had spread-eagled himself
and leaned back over the elf and
the dwarf to cover them.
“Well,
now, this has
become a fine
thing, hasn’t it?”
he said, narrowing
his eyes happily despite the hail of
arrows around him.
To the lizardmen, such crises were
considered trials, and trials were to be
undertaken with joy.
“We’ll split into two groups,” Goblin
Slayer said.
“Excellent idea,” Lizard Priest said
quickly. “Three and three: a warrior, a
spell caster, and a priestess. Then a
priest, a ranger, and a spell caster. Yes?”
“That’s fine.”
“Which shall be the bait?”
“I’ll do it,” Goblin Slayer said. “A tank
is most suited to that job.”
“And
my physical strength
most appropriate for
carrying the former
prisoners out of the basement.
Understood!”
“Good.”
Their quick, quiet conference over, the
strategy was set. There was no one
who
could best Goblin
Slayer at slaying
goblins. Nor could
any race outdo
the lizards when it came to the arts of
war.
“Then let us put this plan into motion.
Mistress ranger, master spell caster
—will you be able to come with me?”
“Yeah,
sure,” High Elf
Archer said. “But—gosh!
Look at the
form they
use shooting those arrows! It just ticks
me off!”
“Save
it,” Dwarf Shaman
advised her. Then
the three of
them began to
creep down the hallway, using Lizard
Priest and his mighty scales as a shield.
Goblin Slayer nodded. Now all he had to
do was make himself noticeable.
“All right. Let’s go.”
“Oh—yes…!”
“…!”
But
Noble Fencer stood
silently, not moving.
Or rather, she
couldn’t
move.
The
pain was part
of it, the
feeling that her
neck was burning.
She was
curled up and sniffling quietly.
But
that wasn’t all
of it. The
fingernails of the
fists she had
closed so
tightly had broken through her bandages,
and now blood was flowing.
“You… You mustn’t do that, okay?”
Priestess approached, gently placing
her
hand over the
fencer’s. The two
willowy, delicate hands
went together
naturally, entwined with each other.
Noble Fencer shook slightly.
“………I…”
The thinnest of voices escaped her.
“…know… I……know that. I kn……ow.”
She shook her head, waves rippling
through her honey-colored hair, as if
to drive something away.
“But………”
She couldn’t seem
to get out
more than that;
the rest
wouldn’t come. “…But…!”
Then the dam broke, words and tears
spilling out in equal measure.
The regret. The regret. The pain. The
sadness. Why had it all happened to
her? It wasn’t…
It
wasn’t supposed to
be like this.
All of them—impulsive. Laughing
at
her.
Making
fun. And yet…
She was wretched.
Unable to do
anything.
Pathetic.
It was her fault again. Her fault that
things…had ended like this.
The sword. She had to get it back. She
had to. Give it back. Give it back.
I want to go home.
Father… Mother…
“I can’t… I can’t stand this anymore…!”
“…”
Goblin
Slayer and Priestess
were silent. The
string of words
made scant
sense to them.
Noble Fencer was sniffling and snuffling
like a child coming down from a
temper
tantrum. Goblin Slayer
listened carefully as
she desperately strung
words
together. From inside
his metal helmet,
he looked intently
at her
tearful, snotty face.
And then he thought:
Out of all that the goblins steal, how
much can really be gotten back?
“Is that so?” he said then. “I
understand.”
“…Huh?”
Noble
Fencer looked up
at him, uncomprehending. She
looked at
Priestess, beside her.
“…Gosh,” Priestess said. “You really are
hopeless, aren’t you?” Sigh. She
didn’t
rise from where
she crouched between
Goblin Slayer and
Noble
Fencer.
“—is what I cannot say.”
Now it came out. Again. But he did
understand, didn’t he?
“Goblin Slayer, sir, I’ve told you, you
can’t just answer everything with,
‘Is that so?’!”
“Is that so?”
“See? You did it again.”
“………Is that so…?”
Priestess’s smile
was like a
blooming flower; he
pointedly averted his
gaze.
“I
will get back
your sword.” Then
he stood up,
his shield still
at the
ready.
The storm of
arrows continued to
bounce off it.
“And I will
kill that
goblin paladin. Along with the other
goblins.”
He drew the sword at his hip. It was a
strange length. “I don’t mean one or
two
of them. I
don’t mean an
entire nest. I
don’t mean even
this entire
fortress.”
The
grimy helmet. The
cheap-looking armor. The
adventurer who wore
them.
“I will slay all the goblins.”
So do not cry.
At
these words from
Goblin Slayer, Noble
Fencer sniffed mightily,
then
gave a small nod.
§
“O
Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, grant your sacred light to we who are
lost in darkness!”
That great light broke upon the goblins
like the dawning of the sun.
It was Holy Light, granted by Priestess’s
soul-enervating prayer.
At this distance, it wouldn’t be enough
to blind the targets, but—
“ORARAGA!”
“GROAAB!!”
—it
was more than
enough to get
the goblins focused
on one group
of
adventurers while another snuck into the
fortress.
The
goblin paladin spat
out an order,
along with several
dark flecks of
spittle, and the goblins began to move.
The arrows continued to come down,
while
a unit of
goblins marched out
of the courtyard.
Presumably, the plan
was
to pin down
the enemy with
arrows while advancing
their own troops.
That much was clear enough.
“While
we have their
sacrifice, however, they
can’t afford to
act too
aggressively,” Goblin Slayer said,
holding up his round shield to protect the
young woman behind him from the incoming
bolts.
The arrows bounced off the shield and
scattered on the ground nearby. He
stepped on and destroyed them
mercilessly.
“It feels good to be the one with the
hostage for once.”
Goblin Slayer glanced back at Priestess
and Noble Fencer, then turned to
securing a path.
“Here we go. Keep low.”
“Oh—yes, sir! Should I use Protection…?”
“No,” Goblin Slayer said. “Save it.”
Priestess
had only one
miracle left. And
it never paid
to misjudge when
one should use one’s spells or miracles.
Priestess
nodded obediently, but
her smile was
somehow mischievous.
“All
right,” she said,
then, after a
beat: “But if
it gets dangerous,
I’m using
it.”
“I’ll trust your judgment.”
The words set her heart dancing: He trusts
my judgment!
It made her so happy to hear that one
word, trust, from Goblin Slayer.
“Yes, sir!” she said earnestly. Goblin
Slayer nodded at her, then looked at
Noble Fencer.
“Can you run?”
“………Probably.” It was the honest answer.
The girl was rubbing at the
reddened
corners of her
eyes. All the
emotions she had
been holding back
had
come bursting out,
and maybe she
was feeling differently
now. Her
expression was still transparently
frozen, but now the glass beads of her eyes
had a light in them.
“All right.” Goblin Slayer pulled a torch
out of his bag, struck a flint, and
lit it. He thrust it at Noble Fencer. She
took it in a firm grip, blinking at the
bright flame.
“You’re our rear guard. Keep us safe.”
“……Okay.”
She nodded with
a serious expression.
Something soft
embraced her left hand. She looked up in
surprise, to see—
“It’s going to be fine.”
—Priestess, smiling like an open flower
in front of her.
“We’ve
come this far.
Do you think
we’re going to
let ourselves be
defeated now?”
“…Mm.”
Noble
Fencer squeezed Priestess’s
hand. Then they
set off running,
and
the battle began.
Whether
or not the
enemy realized it,
the arrowheads on
all the goblins’
arrows were loose. Nor were the tips
covered in poison. Maybe this was an
effect of the earlier battle, or perhaps
they just held a grudge. But in Goblin
Slayer’s opinion, they were simply trying
to ape him, and doing a poor job of
it.
The device of the loose arrowheads caused
the arrows to shake, lowering
their accuracy. What were the goblins
thinking, trying to fire such bolts from
a
distance? Long-range shooting
was already difficult
for goblins, weak
as
they
were. Now they
were using missiles
whose tips would
break off when
they hit anything. An unprepared amateur
might be vulnerable to such tactics,
but the arrows would hardly even damage
anyone with halfway decent armor.
Still, it was convenient for him. The
goal of his group was to buy time. To
be the bait. They were supporting their
allies. Every goblin they could get to
pay attention to them was one step closer
to victory.
That, of course, was assuming that Lizard
Priest and the others could pull
off their part of the plan.
“This is going to get harder and harder
to handle alone.”
“Goblin Slayer, sir! They’re coming!
Six—no, seven!”
Priestess sounded a warning as if to
confirm the mutter that escaped him.
Ahead
of them: a
group of goblins
was running along
the fortress walls
toward
them, golden eyes
glittering in the
dark. They held
clubs and spears
and
axes with which
to beat the
adventurers, trample them,
tear them apart,
violate them.
“Hmph.”
What Goblin Slayer did was simple.
He drew his sword as he ran, then flung
it.
“GAROAB?!”
One
goblin suddenly found
himself with a
sword through his
neck; he
clutched
his throat as
if drowning as
he tumbled from
the battlements,
disappearing into the blackness.
The remaining goblins were not, of
course, especially intimidated by this.
Look.
That stupid adventurer
just threw away
his weapon. Attack!
Kill!
Tear them to pieces!
But that was their mistake.
“First, one. Next, two.”
“GARARA?!”
The
shield in his
left hand came
up, shattering the
skull of the
goblin in
front.
The shield’s honed
edge was a
weapon in itself,
and it did
its job
brilliantly.
Warding
off the gruesome
spray of his
enemy’s blood, Goblin
Slayer
picked up the creature’s stone ax.
“Three!”
So
long as goblins
attacked him, Goblin
Slayer would not
be without a
weapon.
The
merciless stone ax
came flying at
the heads of
the third and
fourth
creatures, splitting them open just like
their companion earlier.
“ORAG?!”
A
fourth. A fifth.
A sixth. Trading
one weapon for
another and then
another, he slaughtered goblins with each
breath.
The
goblins were unable
to use their
numbers to their
advantage on the
narrow battlements, something the little
monsters had yet to understand.
The
adventurers pushed ahead
against the goblins,
who crashed against
them like a hideous tide.
Of course, Goblin Slayer didn’t deal with
them all single-handedly.
“GRARAB!”
One
creature used its
small size to
dodge to one
side, making for
the
women.
“Take
this!”
“GARO?!”
But Priestess rebuffed him firmly with a
swing of her sounding staff. The
damage it did was minimal, but it was
more than enough to stun him.
“Why,
youuu!”
“ORARAG?!”
And
a stunned goblin
was easy prey
for Noble Fencer.
She swung the
torch like a burning club and sent the
creature tumbling from the walls.
Her shoulders heaved, but her eyes were
looking into the darkness.
“They’re coming from behind, too!”
“How many?”
“…I’m not sure.” She bit her lip. “But
it’s a lot!”
“All right.”
Goblin
Slayer casually withdrew
a bottle from
his bag and
launched it
behind him. It flew over Priestess’s and
Noble Fencer’s heads with the sound
of a passing breeze, landing directly in
front of the oncoming goblins.
There was a clatter as the ceramic jar
broke; the viscous liquid inside went
everywhere. Noble
Fencer had probably
never seen or
heard of this
liquid,
but Priestess remembered it.
It had many names: Medea’s Oil,
petroleum…and gasoline.
“GARARARA?!”
“ORAG?!”
There
were other ways
to kill an
enemy besides personally
cutting them
down.
The goblins slipped
and slid on
the slick stuff,
falling from the
ramparts.
With all the
creatures shoved together
on the top
of the wall,
this
was only to be expected.
Still, goblins would be goblins. They
trampled over their fallen comrades
and got past the gasoline, throwing
themselves at the adventurers even if their
numbers had been somewhat reduced.
“GRARAM!”
“…Hi-yaah!”
Noble Fencer swung at them energetically.
The torch looked like a great
red brush, showering sparks as she
painted the night with it.
One goblin took a blow and fell off the
wall. The second came leaping at
her. She met it with a strike from the
torch. The third was already upon her,
threatening to sneak past to one side.
“Leave him to me…!”
It was Priestess. Noble Fencer had no
time to answer as she dealt with the
fourth goblin, whom she beat repeatedly
until he stopped moving.
Yes, but now the fifth, and the sixth
were—
I can’t keep up…!
Her
arm as she
wielded the torch
grew heavy, her
movement slow; her
breath became strained and her vision
clouded.
She
could hear the
sound of her
own breathing, her
own blood pulsing.
There was a ringing in her ears, making
it hard to hear.
Noble Fencer glanced over her shoulder,
seeking help. But Priestess was
whipping her sounding staff around as
fast as she could, trying to drive back
the mass of oncoming creatures.
“Curse you…!” she was saying.
“There’s…always so many of them…!”
Goblin Slayer was just beyond her, and it
would be no use hoping for help
from him.
Noble Fencer could feel rancid goblin
breath on her pale cheek; they were
getting very close.
“Oh…”
The
humiliation and hopelessness
she had experienced
on the snowy
mountain returned vividly to her memory.
The awful reek of the goblins. The
implacable hands.
The unrelenting violence
and cruel greed.
The
simpleminded grins.
The
thought made her
body go stiff,
her throat constricting
with terror.
Strength came into her hands.
But
in her left
hand was an
unmistakable warmth; in
her right, an
unremitting light burned.
A scene flashed before her eyes, of
Goblin Slayer in the basement prison,
fighting his fight.
“…Ah…ahhhh!”
There was an instant where her body moved
faster than thought, flinging
the torch at the goblins.
“GAROARAARA?!”
Unfortunately—or perhaps somewhat
fortunately?—her target was one of
the goblins who had already crossed the
gasoline. Flame billowed across his
skin instantaneously, and he fell off the
battlements still writhing in agony.
“GROOOB!! GRAAB!!”
Always,
however, goblins trust
to their numbers.
Another simply surged
forward and filled the gap.
“Hrrraah…!”
Noble Fencer brought her fist around in a
backhand. In her hand she had
concealed the aluminum dagger, with which
she stabbed the creature.
“GAROARAO?!”
“D-damn you…!”
The
dagger buried under
the monster’s clavicle
was enough to
end his
life; she kicked the corpse away, pulled
out her blade, and looked up again.
Suddenly,
she found the
tide had broken.
This was the
pause, the few
precious
seconds before the
next wave rolled
in. Noble Fencer
inhaled
deeply, steadying her breathing.
She was sure she could never have done
this a few minutes ago. Spurred
on by anger, weapon in hand, throwing
herself at the horde of goblins without
a thought for either the past or the
future. And…
“Huff…puff…huff…”
But then there was Priestess. Even as she
gulped air, she refused to let go
of Noble Fencer’s hand. Her fingers were
slim and pretty, and yet—and yet,
warm.
“……”
Noble Fencer regarded the hand silently.
The urge to wade in among the
goblins
was not enough
to make her
extricate herself from
Priestess’s grip.
After all, Goblin Slayer, who had rescued
Noble Fencer, had entrusted her to
Priestess.
“Thirteen… Well done.”
The man himself spoke without so much as
a glance in her direction and
tossed
her a new
torch. She just
managed to catch
it, using the
moment’s
peace between onslaughts of goblins to
light the thing and get a good grip on
it.
She
looked briefly at
Priestess’s face; sweat
was running down
her
forehead
and her features
were stiff with
nervousness, but still
she gave
Noble Fencer a smile. Noble Fencer
reflected that she probably looked much
the same herself.
She knew that, for better and for worse,
people could change dramatically
in the space of a single moment.
§
“How’s it looking up top?”
High
Elf Archer casually
shot another goblin,
then glanced back
at her
friends.
There
were goblins inside
the fortress. Not
as many as
on the walls,
but
enough
to make combat
unavoidable. The sounds
of fighting reaching
the
elf’s ears intensified, but she took
comfort in the fact that she didn’t hear any
human screams.
“Ah-ha! You’re worried about
Beard-cutter, aren’t you, Long-Ears?”
Dwarf Shaman chuckled, pulling out a
wineskin and taking a swig. With
his
lips wetted, he
wiped a few
drops away and
smirked at his
companion.
“Wish you were up there yourself, do
you?”
“Not
especially. I’m not
worried about Orcbolg
at all.” She
sniffed as if
the
subject bored her,
then drew another
arrow from her
quiver. “It’s the
other two I’m concerned about.”
“Concerned the new girl is going to take
him from you is what you are!
Awfully childish.”
“That’s
not what I’m worried about!” Her ears stood up straight and she
glared
at the dwarf.
Perhaps she realized
she had come
on a little
strong,
because her next words were much more
gentle, almost shy. “…They’re my
friends. Is it wrong to worry about
them?”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with it.”
“Huh?” High Elf Archer blinked, taken
aback to hear the dwarf agree with
her so readily.
“You’re an elf. A big, important friend!”
So he was just teasing her after all. But
then, he was praising her, too, or
so it seemed. She wanted to get angry but
couldn’t quite bring herself to do it.
And
yet, she couldn’t
just roll over
and take this,
either. She settled
for a
growl
and a glare
in the dwarf’s
direction, but he
ignored her and
took
another mouthful of wine.
“Ha-ha-ha! Now,
if milord Goblin
Slayer were here,
there would be no
need to argue.” Lizard Priest watched the
two of them with a jolly expression,
his tongue slipping out of his mouth with
a hiss.
He was actually the youngest among the
three of them, but he never tired
of watching the elf, who acted so much
younger than she was.
“Now,
then. It will
avail us nothing
to chat and
chatter here. How
much
farther?”
“Not far to the room we’re looking for,”
Dwarf Shaman said, wiping his
beard with a gauntleted hand. He put the
cap back on the wineskin and tapped
on the wall. “Frankly, it’s going to be a
bigger job getting back to the prison
once we’re done there.”
“Oh,” said High Elf Archer, sensing an
opening, “I thought dwarves were
as brave as they were fat. Not so?”
“Watch
it.” Dwarf Shaman’s
movements were somber,
his shake of his
head serious. “I look as good as I
do because I’m so brave. Unlike you. I
can
hear your knees knocking from here!”
“Why, you…! Dwarf! Wine barrel!”
“What’s that, anvil?”
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Now,
of course, the
three of them might
be bantering, but
they weren’t
standing
around wasting time.
Fewer enemies for
them meant more
were
assaulting their
friends. They had no time,
and half their
usual fighting
strength.
A single wrong
move born of
panic could render
everything for
naught.
The fact they could be so alert and yet
make no mistake was testament to
who
they were. It
was why they
had no time
for unnecessary anxiety.
Yes,
sometimes it was possible to succeed
despite nervousness. But it was crucial
to
keep chatting, stay
relaxed, do the
job as if
it were nothing
out of the
ordinary.
In fact, not a single goblin they’d
encountered had escaped. Between High
Elf Archer’s arrows and Lizard Priest’s
claws and fangs and tail, none of their
enemies were breathing any longer. On top
of that, Dwarf Shaman’s guidance
was true; he found them the shortest,
quickest routes.
“This’ll
be it.” They
had arrived at
another great, thick
dwarven door.
Dwarf Shaman was sniffing the air as if
checking something, then he nodded
and turned back to High Elf Archer. “All
right, switch off.”
“Yeah, sure. Let me at it.” She tapped
him on the shoulder and switched
places,
then pressed herself
up against the
door. She took
out her needle-
branch and quickly checked the keyhole,
searched for traps, and set about the
business of picking the lock.
As
she did so,
Dwarf Shaman and
Lizard Priest busied
themselves
keeping
an eye out
for enemies. Each
of them was
holding his favorite
weapon—a Swordclaw for one, a sling for
the other—and scanning the area
vigilantly.
There was no sign of goblins yet. They
could be grateful for the way the
dice were falling.
“Hey,” High Elf Archer said with a twitch
of her ears. She was working
her
needle industriously, finally
producing a click
from the lock.
“Are you
sure
this is gonna
work? Not that
I’m doubting you,
but it’s already
failed
once…”
“Got to admit, I’ve been worried about
the same thing. What do you say,
Scaly?”
“One failure does not mean the plan has
no merit.” Lizard Priest stepped
forward
as High Elf
Archer slid nimbly
back from the
door. Anyone would
be pleased to have such a stalwart
companion as Lizard Priest among them,
especially when assaulting a fortress
full of goblins.
“It has always been the way of those
attacking castles to flood the place,
but
there is another
possibility.” He kicked
the door in
and looked around,
then opened his jaws and smiled like a
naga. A nearby barrel was filled to the
brim with something—chunks of what
appeared to be smashed-together ants.
“And that is to starve the enemy.”
§
Fwoosh. It was at that moment that a gout
of flame went up from one corner
of the ruined castle.
“ORARAGA?!”
“GROAB!!”
Even the cruel goblins, loyal chiefly to
their own greed, were surprised at
this, making sounds of confusion.
The deathmatch with the second wave was
over; they were on to the third
wave now. Around them, fifteen or sixteen
goblins stopped cold as they saw
their provisions go up in flames.
“Good.”
Goblin Slayer was not one to waste such
an opportunity. He was already
diving
out of the
way along the
castle wall, barking
orders. “The torch—
throw it forward! Now!”
Noble
Fencer gripped the
torch that was
her weapon, looking
at the
ground
for just an
instant. And then,
this time decisively
rather than
reactively, she flung the little handheld
flame.
By now, even she knew what she was aiming
at. The torch fell in an arc,
and
tongues of flame
began licking up
along the path.
The gasoline Goblin
Slayer had thrown down earlier became a
wall of flame, blocking the goblins
entirely.
“GROAA?!”
One unfortunate creature caught in the
blast was turned into a living torch;
he thrashed on the ground for a moment
before lying still.
Confronted with
his terrible death,
the goblins were
not about to
try to
jump through the flames, however angry
they might be. Some stories tell of
courage that fears not even death—but
this is the furthest thing from the mind
of goblins.
“Twenty-nine. It’s
about time.” Goblin
Slayer threw away
his brain-
smeared
club and took
the sword from
the goblin corpse
at his feet.
He
gripped it, tried a few moves, then
nodded. “We withdraw. Get ready to—”
“Goblin
Slayer, sir!” Priestess
shouted a warning.
Without it, his
adventure
would likely have
ended there. He
whipped the sword
back
instinctively, and
it went flying
out of his
hands in a shower of
sparks. A
white line traced itself across his
sternum, between his helmet and his armor.
“Damn…!” Goblin Slayer jumped back
instantaneously; there was a flash
of
aluminum in front
of him. It
was no enchanted
sword, no sacred
blade.
And yet, it would not have been out of
place in the hand of a hero.
“GRAAORRRN…!”
A
goblin stood there,
smoke rising from
his armor and
flames from his
eyes. He had jumped through the wall of
fire; he was like a messenger of the
gods,
sent to bring
low his enemies
on behalf of
his brothers. With
his
aluminum sword in his right hand and a
teardrop-shaped shield in his left, he
looked like a caricature of a holy
warrior.
The goblin paladin.
“You’re
late,” Goblin Slayer
said calmly. He
leveled his sword,
which
had
been reduced to
the length of
a dagger. It
was his usual
stance: shield
high, hips low, wrist rotating until his
sword was pointed at his enemy. “But I
expected you eventually.”
“GAROAROB…!” The goblin paladin moved his
equipment-laden hands
in strange gestures, making some unknown
sign. It was easy enough to infer
that he was making a show of praise to
the Outer God, who resided upon the
green moon.
“…Haa…ahh…!” When
Noble Fencer realized
who he was,
a strangled
scream slipped out of her. The brand on
her neck grew as hot as burning. The
sign of the Outer God started to pulse.
It had begun to swell—as if it might
burst at any moment…
With that image in her mind, her knees
began to shake. And yet she never
took her eyes off one thing—the silver
sword that the goblin held.
That’s mine. Mine… It was stolen from me…
And
it was pointed
at her—she was
surprised to find
herself using this
word—comrades.
“Ahh…n-n-no…!”
A
sound of footsteps
came closer. The
goblins, heartened by the
appearance of their champion, had
surrounded the walls as they closed in.
There was no escape. Had they cornered
the paladin or been cornered by
him? Would it all end here?
What should I do? What should I—?
“Hurry.” A calm, almost mechanical voice
cut through her confusion. “I’ll
buy you time.”
“Yes, sir!” Priestess replied immediately
in a ringing tone.
Noble
Fencer bit her
lip. A dribble
of blood came
from her nape;
she
could feel it running down her neck.
But she was all right. She was sure of
it. She would make herself all right.
“…Right.”
The actions the two girls took next were
diametrically opposed.
Words of true power overflowed from Noble
Fencer’s mouth. “Tonitrus…
oriens…!
Thunder…rise!”
Priestess, for her part, prayed to the
goddess, but did not invoke a miracle:
“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy. May
your protection be upon us…”
This
was because both
of them had
been told by
Goblin Slayer that
he
would trust them.
Trust one to protect Priestess. Trust the
other to use Protection at the right
time.
“IRARAGARU!!”
“…Hrk!”
The
goblin paladin sprang
into action, babbling
a prayer to
his bizarre
gods. The blow of his sword was swift and
sharp, easily knocking away the
shield Goblin Slayer had brought up to
meet it.
Smite human!
Goblins as a whole tend to be of small
stature. Hobgoblins excepted, they
lack
physical strength. The
aluminum sword, however,
helped make up for
that. In the hand of this creature,
Goblin Slayer saw now, it was a thing to be
wary
of. If it
was enhanced by
miracles from the
Outer God, typical
armor
might well be useless against it.
Enchanted
armor might be
a different matter,
but Goblin Slayer
disliked
such things. The very situation he was in
made it clear what could happen if
such items fell into the hands of the
enemy.
“Hmph.”
Goblin
Slayer’s sword work
was nonchalant but
masterful. Locking
blades
would not be
the key here;
he could tell
that would be
pointless. He
would have to strike his opponent’s sword
from above, forcing it down, and
then use his foreshortened blade to stab
at any opening.
It was not very adventurer-esque, a
technique more suited to a rough and
deadly duel on the outskirts of some
little town. He didn’t expect the goblin
paladin, who had most likely learned his
swordcraft by studying adventurers,
to be able to respond.
Even
for Goblin Slayer,
though, this opponent
was too dangerous
to
simply
try to force
his way in.
He took a
blow with his shield,
jumping far
back,
then brought his
sword to bear,
the opponent’s weapons
striking out.
He pushed the sword down, leaped forward
strongly, letting the momentum
carry him into the thrust, stabbing.
The
difference in body
size, in physical
power and equipment,
strategy,
and experience, put a decisive end to the
exchange.
But not the battle. That would be decided
by something entirely different:
two delicate young women against fifteen
incoming goblins.
One look at the monsters’ cruel smiles
made plain the greed, the fantasies,
in those little brains.
“Heh-heh.”
And
yet, despite that,
despite all that
was going on
around her, Priestess
had a little smile on her face.
The man who had her back. The one who had
entrusted his back to her:
she
knew him, and
he never did
his most serious
fighting in situations
like
this. Nor had he ever had her use her
miracles at moments like these.
So now was not the time. The moment for
Protection would come, but this
wasn’t it.
Which
meant that what
she needed to
do right now
was come up
with a
plan of escape just as quickly as she
could…
She looked quickly through her equipment
and took out a particular item,
as they’d discussed beforehand. Beside
her…
“…Iacta!
and fall!”
…the Lightning spell was completed.
It
drew a beeline
directly from Noble
Fencer’s outstretched palm
to…
Well, one would expect the goblin
paladin, wouldn’t one?
“AGARARABA?!”
“GORRRBB?!”
But no. Her attack struck the oncoming
horde.
“Ee—yaaaahhh!”
In that instant, the battlefield went
white. There was a tremendous noise of
rushing air, such that one might imagine
this was what the howl of a Thunder
Drake sounded like, and then the
lightning came crashing down.
The goblins scourged by the flash swelled
up and exploded, screaming.
To
use a powerful
spell against close-packed
enemies was a
standard
tactic.
White smoke, carrying
the acrid stench
of cooked flesh,
rose up,
mingling with the smoke from the fire.
Noble Fencer couldn’t resist a passing
thought: that this place was hell
embodied.
“…Take that…!”
The smile on her face was an unsteady
one, an attempt to look strong, to
be sure; but there was no question, the
girls had done it. Priestess brushed a
hand
across her sooty,
sweaty face and
shouted, “Goblin Slayer,
sir! It’s
okay!”
“…!”
Goblin
Slayer’s reaction was
immediate. He spun
the broken sword
around
in his hand
so that he
held it in
a reverse grip,
then without a
moment’s hesitation, he flung it at the
goblin paladin.
“GARARAI!!”
Believing
this to be
just a too-clever
little trick, the
paladin raised his
shield and deflected the blade. But he
also blocked his own line of sight.
It was just an instant. But it was all
Goblin Slayer needed.
“Hwah?!”
“…Ah!”
The
two young women
cried out: they
suddenly found themselves
held
aloft, one under each of Goblin Slayer’s
arms as he jumped gracefully off the
battlements.
It was just before dawn; a gentle light
was beginning to spread across the
land. They floated through space.
A biting cold wind rushed across the
girls’ skin, sharp as a knife.
Then the sense of floating, of falling
down, was arrested as abruptly as if
they had hit the ground.
But they hadn’t. Goblin Slayer’s hand
gripped something firmly.
The Adventurer’s Toolkit.
There
was the slightest
sound of heightened
breathing from inside
the
steel
helmet. Goblin Slayer,
it seemed, had
an uncharacteristic smile
on his
face. “‘Never leave home without it,’
they say…”
The hook-and-rope.
Something Priestess—an Obsidian rank,
just one step up the adventuring
ladder—carried religiously. The hook was
buried firmly in the fortress wall,
the
rope hanging down
to the outside;
what better escape
route could there
be?
“IGARARAROB!!”
They
looked up to
find the goblin
paladin leaning out
over the wall,
bellowing, his face twisted in anger.
Goblins
lived primarily underground.
He had, they
presumed, never
before seen someone escape by jumping
from a high place.
The
monsters couldn’t counterattack
immediately, but their
nasty
intelligence was more than enough to set
them straight to work dislodging the
hook.
Not
that Goblin Slayer
would let them,
of course. With
Priestess and
Noble Fencer clinging to him, one to each
side, he braced his feet against the
wall
and began his
descent in a
series of great
jumps. His movements
were
quick and sure, obviously the product of
focused training.
“A-aren’t we heavy…?” Priestess asked.
“A little.”
The
question had just
slipped out of
her, and she
frowned a bit
at the
answer. She blushed and felt a touch of
anger at him. It was only natural that
a girl her age should shoot back at him:
“You’re supposed to say, ‘No, you’re
perfectly light’!”
“Is that so?”
“It is!”
“I see.”
Goblin
Slayer nodded, although
chances were slim
that he really
understood what she was upset about.
At
almost the same
moment as Goblin
Slayer put his
feet on the
snowy
ground,
the rope was
severed, falling down
after them. He
collected it and
wrapped it around his shoulder.
“I’ll
pay you back
later.” It was
an odd moment
to think of
such social
niceties,
but so characteristic that
even Noble Fencer
felt a slight
smile
coming to her face.
But this wasn’t over yet.
“IGURARARARABORR!!”
The
goblin paladin, mad
with rage, let
out a yell
that echoed around
the
mountain, knocking snow from the
ramparts. With many a creak and clatter,
the great main gate began to open.
They
had to move
quickly, or they
would find themselves
right back
where they had begun.
“…Where are the others?” Noble Fencer
asked.
“They’ll be here soon.”
And
so they were.
There was a
crunching noise as
the snow-covered
ground began to rise up, then the rest of
the party popped out from beneath
the earth.
“Phew! Ahhh! I’m going to be well and
truly tired of goblin tunnels when
this is over!” exclaimed Dwarf Shaman,
crawling out of the hole like a mole.
“Up
you get,” he
said, reaching back
down into the tunnel and
taking
someone’s
hand. With no
small display of
delicacy, he helped
High Elf
Archer to the surface.
“You’re not kidding,” she said, dusting
herself off and frowning. “I can’t
believe
you dwarves can
live underground. Are
you sure
you guys aren’t
related to goblins?”
“Pick
up those long
ears and listen
to me, you
two-thousand-year-old
anvil. There are things you can joke
about, and things you can’t.”
“Two-thousand-year-old what?
Are you looking
to start a
war, little
man?”
And
they were off
and arguing. It
was just their
usual banter, but
it had
started so suddenly that Noble Fencer was
completely lost.
“…Er. Ahem…”
“All according to plan,” Goblin Slayer
said.
“Just
so!” a scaly
head said, popping
up out of
the ground. He
looked
rather
monstrous but crawled
out easily. “Worry
not. Sad their
state may
appear, but they are unharmed.”
As
intimidating as he
looked, Lizard Priest
also seemed happy.
Two
wasted prisoners hung under each of his
arms, four in total. He had physical
strength
enough to move
effortlessly despite carrying
them all, and
the first
aid
that had been
administered to the
women was exemplary
as well. It
appeared that, indeed, there was no need
to fear for their lives.
“Thank goodness…” Priestess let out a
relieved breath, tears springing to
her eyes. “I was worried about all of
you. Are you hurt?”
“Not
a scratch!” High
Elf Archer said,
briefly interrupting her
argument
with
Dwarf Shaman. She
puffed out her
chest proudly. “What
about you?
You didn’t suffer, did you? I mean, at
the hands of Orcbolg…”
“Oh… Ha-ha-ha-ha. No. We’re all right. No
trouble at all.”
“Well.”
High Elf Archer
gave a satisfied
nod to see
Priestess’s brave
smile.
Then she looked
at Goblin Slayer
and finally at
Noble Fencer. The
battle was over; the girl was covered in
blood and dust, yet she looked back
at the ranger with eyes that shone with
light.
The elf gave a slow flip of her ears,
then smiled like a cat.
“You did it, huh?”
She bumped Noble Fencer on the shoulder
with her fist. The girl put her
hand to the spot, blinking. Then she
looked down, as if to hide the tears in her
eyes, and said simply, “Yes.”
“Well,
you can see
this is none
of it any
trouble for us,”
Dwarf Shaman
said, stroking his beard proudly and
chuckling.
And in fact, that was the truth.
The Tunnel spell might have seemed only a
way of moving rocks and dirt,
but without it, they could not have saved
the prisoners. Nor could they have
done
it without Lizard
Priest’s strength to
carry the girls
out. Lacking High
Elf Archer’s sharp senses, they might
have had to fight many more goblins.
They
had stolen the
goblins’ weapons, destroyed
their provisions, saved
the prisoners, and then taken on the
fortress’s monstrous inhabitants. Goblin
Slayer
could only imagine
how much time
and trouble it
would have
demanded alone.
“Ahem,
well then, Beard-cutter,” Dwarf
Shaman said, squinting.
“What
happened to your sword?”
“I threw it.”
The blunt response elicited a smile and a
“That’s what I thought” from the
dwarf. “Well, pick whichever one you
like. They’re all goblin stuff, but that
ought to suit you.”
“Thank
you, that helps.
Although I will
probably just throw
it away
again.”
“Ahh, don’t worry about it!”
Just salvage anyway. He
held out a bundle of
swords, the weapons
they
had stolen from the armory earlier.
So the goblins had stolen them and kept
them for a while—only to have
adventurers steal them back. Goblin
Slayer found it rather an odd thought. He
picked the weapon whose blade was the
most familiar length to him. He slid
it into his scabbard without hesitation.
There was no question he felt a bit off
without arms.
“So
all we’ve got
left to do
is get that
girl’s sword back,
is it?” Dwarf
Shaman said.
“Right.” Goblin Slayer pulled a jar from
his item pouch: a stamina potion.
He
popped the cork
and drank it
in a single
swallow. The warmth
that
spread through his body felt good.
He
had saved this
item, something Guild
Girl had given
him before he
left, for a special moment.
Goblin
Slayer looked at
his companions: At
Priestess, the girl
who had
faith in him. At High Elf Archer, who
stuck with him through thick and thin.
At Dwarf Shaman, who could be relied upon
in the most dire circumstances.
At
Lizard Priest, to
whom he entrusted
his safety in
battle. And at
Noble
Fencer, who had given her all to
persevere until this moment.
Each of them was covered in mud and blood
and ash, but here they were.
Then
he looked to
the horizon. The
frontier town was
away south. Cow
Girl was there, waiting for him to come
home. Guild Girl was there.
There
were more and
more things in
his life that
he simply couldn’t
do
alone.
This thought crossed his mind, followed
soon after by the conclusion that
this was, most probably, fine by him.
In that case, there was only one thing to
do.
The same thing he always did.
“We’re going to slay all the goblins.”
§
Goblins have no concept of industry, of
creating things with their own hands.
Added to that, they had lost dozens of
their brothers in this most recent battle.
They would have to avoid being depleted
any further, save up supplies.
To
fill out their
ranks, however, they
would need wombs.
Wombs and
food.
In order to capture females and steal
provisions, they would have to attack
a village.
And in order to attack a village, they
would have to gather their fighting
strength, maintain it, move it, and
strike at the right moment.
All these things were stolen. Their women
were kidnapped, their weapons
purloined, their food taken by force.
We can’t do anything—we can do nothing!
This makes no sense. We are
the ones who steal; they are the ones who
are stolen from.
This? This makes me no different from the
others.
Adventurers burst
into my nest
and take what
is mine—that makes
me
nothing but…nothing but a goblin!
“GOURRR…”
The goblin paladin, much more intelligent
than any of his comrades, could
tell that everything was over. With
things as they were, the surviving goblins
could hardly be expected to continue to
obey him.
Goblins had a strong sense of
camaraderie, but what bound them together
was
greed. They killed
those they hated,
raped them, stole
from them,
humiliated them in the most awful ways.
What else would a goblin do?
Now there was no way forward; the goblin
paladin’s plans lay in ruins.
In that case, there was only one thing to
do.
The same thing he always did.
Attack the adventurers. Kill the men,
capture the women. Then he would
chain them up in his dungeon, feed them
the flesh of their own comrades, and
force them to bear children until their
hearts broke and they died.
Goblins
did not understand
that they might
face reprisal for
stealing,
might be paid back. They only understood
that they had been victimized and
would have their revenge.
“IRAGARARARARA!!”
Thus, all that followed was a burst of
rage.
§
The light of dawn fell on the burning
fortress, a silvery sheen that glinted off
the mountain upon whose slopes all this
happened.
The gleam of the sun and the summit
together fell upon the adventurers as
they
ran along. Even
so much as
a slip in
the snow would
have been fatal.
Because,
as it happened,
they were being
pursued by a
group of crazed
goblins hell-bent on killing them.
“IGARARARARAU!” The
goblin paladin raised
his aluminum sword
high, howling a prayer.
“GROAAAB!!” The
goblins behind him
shouted in response,
shaking
their weapons and rushing forward. Their
eyes were burning, and dirty saliva
dripped down from their mouths.
Every shred of rationality was gone now,
if indeed they had ever had any.
Lunacy:
it was a
miracle of battle
granted by the
god of external
knowledge.
The goblins who followed the great
paladin were caught up in a whirlpool
of insanity. They spared no thought for
past or future; their only desire at this
moment was to rend the adventurers apart,
to crush them underfoot.
The
goblins, transformed into
a holy army,
literally knew no
fear. Not
even when arrows began to rain
noiselessly down upon those in the vanguard,
felling
them. The goblins
simply trampled the
corpses into the
snow, their
zeal undiminished.
“This
is why I
hate goblins. Numbers
are the only
thing they’ve got!”
High Elf Archer drew a bud-tipped arrow
with a delicate movement, letting it
loose
even as she
turned back to
quip to her
friends. Despite her
failure to
aim carefully, the arrow couldn’t miss
its mark.
A skill so sufficiently developed was
indistinguishable from magic.
“Then again, I do love these big open
spaces for shooting! None of those
cramped interiors!”
“Just watch what you wish for…!” Dwarf
Shaman snapped.
“If you’ve got breath to talk, then
you’ve got breath to run! Faster!”
“I’m runnin’! Fast as I can!”
The
dwarf’s stubby legs
made him the
slowest runner in
the party, even
when
he was going
flat out. Then
again, the entire
party was moving
somewhat slower than normal.
“What about you?” Dwarf Shaman asked.
“How’s that leg holding up?”
“Honestly? It
still hurts a
bit.” Her leg,
as slim as
a deer’s, had
been hit
with
an arrow not
that long ago.
High Elf Archer
squinted one eye
shut in
distress, then loosed another bolt.
“I aver that at this rate, I do believe
they will catch us,” Lizard Priest said.
His
movements were slowed
by the cold,
and needless to
say, he was
still
hauling the former prisoners. He had
summoned a Dragontooth Warrior and
entrusted one or two of the girls to it,
but it was not much faster than he was.
“The enemy ranks have thinned. I might
recommend allowing me to face
them alone.”
“N-no! You can’t!” Priestess, not
normally so confrontational, shook her
head vigorously. “It’s one thing to do
something outrageous or unbelievable
when it helps you win, but it won’t work
this time…!”
One
wondered if she
realized she was
all but repeating
one of Goblin
Slayer’s favorite sayings.
A
stamina potion helped
somewhat, but it
could not completely
restore
physical strength. They had left the
village, marched through the snow, spent
the entire night assaulting a fortress,
and were now engaged in another battle
without
ever having had
the chance to
rest. Fatigue dulled
the mind, a dull
mind led to mistakes, and mistakes, in
this case, led to death.
“Gracious… Were
it just slightly
warmer, I could
at least move
more
effectively.”
“No, you mustn’t—oh.” Priestess recalled
something she had in her bag.
She dug into her pouch and pulled out a
ring. “This is the ring Goblin Slayer
gave me, the one that bestows Breathe. It
won’t help much, but—”
“Anything is more than nothing. I receive
it gratefully.” Lizard Priest was
still
running, still carrying
the prisoners, but
he managed to
slip Priestess’s
ring onto one scaly finger.
The moment he did so, he made an
impressed sound; the effect was that
immediate
and noticeable. It
was not, however,
enough to significantly
change the situation.
What to do now?
Only
one of them
had large-scale firepower.
Noble Fencer allowed
the
magical power to begin flowing through
her.
“I’ll use Lightning to—”
“No.” Goblin Slayer rejected the plan
forthrightly. “There will be a time
to use it, but not now.”
“…?”
Noble
Fencer gave him
a questioning look
as they ran
along. His face
was, as ever, hidden behind his mask, and
she had no idea what he might be
thinking.
He
slipped off his
gloves, massaged his
fingers as if
to loosen them
up,
then put his gauntlets back on.
“I’ll take rear guard. You back me up.”
“Right on it!” Dwarf Shaman said, as
surely as a hammer forging a sword.
Backup
and support were
what spell casters
excelled at. “What’s
snow but
water? And what goes better with water
than dirt?”
He spun like a top, barely glancing at
the goblins as he slammed his hands
down on the snowy ground. In each hand
was a ball of mud, which would be
a suitable catalyst.
“Gnomes! Undines! Make for me the finest
cushion you will see!”
With a
shlorp, the ground softened up. The snow melted away before their
eyes, turning into water; it mixed with
the soft earth and soon became a field
of mud.
Snare:
so long as
it was cast
in the opposite
direction, it wouldn’t
affect
the adventurers. It caught only the
goblins.
“GAROBA?!”
“ORAG?!”
The
first creatures to
arrive would tumble,
flailing their arms,
their feet
stuck
in the mud.
They would then
promptly be trampled
by their
companions. It would serve to reduce the
enemy’s numbers slightly and slow
them down a bit. Or should have.
“ORAGARARAU!!”
At that moment, however, the goblin
paladin’s prayer rang out across the
battlefield. And
behold! The goblins,
surrounded by a
pale light, walked
easily through the mud!
“Wh-wha…?!”
Dwarf Shaman was agog at this. Such a
thing would never have happened
were their opponents ordinary goblins.
But these had a goblin paladin to lead
them.
It must have been the Counterspell miracle.
“Gaaah!” Dwarf Shaman exclaimed. “Stupid,
sneaky goblins!”
“Looks like we’ll have to let my arrows
do the talking,” High Elf Archer
said,
launching a bolt
at the oncoming
goblin army. It
flew in between
the
ranks of the monsters, as if threading a
needle, straight toward the paladin…
“GAROARO?!”
“…Oh!” High Elf Archer clicked her
tongue. Another goblin had jumped
in front of the leader, sacrificing
himself. “Ahh, darnit! I had him just where I
wanted him, too!”
“The
enemy numbers have
been reduced. I’ll
switch with you,”
Goblin
Slayer
said, moving quickly
to the back
of the formation.
With a casual
swipe, he beheaded a goblin who had
gotten too close.
He threw his sword at the next oncoming
creature, kicking a spear at his
feet up into his hand.
“Eight, nine.” He gave a thrust to check
the weapon, then glanced over his
shoulder and resumed retreating. “We
can’t go straight into the village with
them behind us. I recall there was a
valley on the way.”
“If memory serves, it’s not too far,”
Lizard Priest said.
“We’ll go there, then.”
He looked back, flinging his spear. It
pierced the chest armor of a goblin
up front, pinning him to the snowy
ground.
“What’d I tell you, Beard-cutter?”
“Sorry.”
Dwarf
Shaman pulled another
sword out of
the bundle he
was carrying
and tossed it to Goblin Slayer. Fighting
this way, leaving the enemy corpses
—and
their equipment—behind, was
tricky because it
meant a less
steady
flow of armaments.
Goblin Slayer cut down one or two
goblins, then, when the blade became
dulled with fat and blood, he flipped it
into a reverse grip.
“Hrk…!”
There was a
muffled crunch as
he used the
hilt and handle
to
crack a goblin’s skull. He held the blade
in gloved hands, wielding it like a
hammer, killing the goblin in a single
blow.
“Thirteen!”
He
wiped the brains
off his improvised
weapon and moved
to strike the
next
monster. The whole
hilt ended up
buried in the
chest plate of the
goblin’s
ostentatious leather armor;
the creature fell
so heavily that
Goblin
Slayer simply let go of the sword.
“Right,
next one!” Dwarf
Shaman called. “You
want the pickax
or the
shovel?”
“Does
it matter?” High
Elf Archer shouted.
“Just pick one!”
It was her
speed and skill that bought them the time
to switch weapons; she drew three
arrows from her quiver and fired them
almost faster than the eye could see.
Three goblins were shot through almost
simultaneously and died so quickly
that they didn’t even cry out as they
collapsed to the ground.
That made sixteen.
Goblin Slayer didn’t hesitate. “I need
something long.”
“That’d be the shovel, then!”
He caught the spade Dwarf Shaman tossed
to him, swinging and striking
with it, thrusting, the goblin corpses
mounting.
Trying
to make the
most of the
precious time they
had been bought,
the
two young women moved around behind
Lizard Priest.
“Just keep moving…!”
“…ngh.”
Priestess said. Noble Fencer only made a
grunt of exertion.
“My
thanks…!” Lizard Priest
said. The girls
were pushing him
along
from behind with their small bodies. As
for the Dragontooth Warrior, silently
carrying the prisoners, the party had
never been so grateful for the familiar.
Goblin Slayer, wielding the shovel like a
spear, slew another goblin.
“Nineteen!”
Six adventurers and four rescued
prisoners against a veritable tidal wave
of goblins led by a paladin: that was the
nature of the fighting retreat down
the
snowy mountain. Everyone
involved was utterly
committed, ready to
battle to the death. Their breath showed
white in the chill air, obscuring their
vision. Their feet were beginning to go
numb from the snow, yet their bodies
were hot.
The
sword had brought
down twenty goblins,
then High Elf
Archer’s
arrows raised the total to twenty-four;
Goblin Slayer had picked up an ax for
the
twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth,
then thrown a
hatchet for twenty-seven,
which was followed by another arrow.
This battle, which had begun with the
rising of the sun, had so far yielded
thirty
goblin corpses, and
showed no signs
of stopping yet.
The halo of
morning light shone on snow streaked red
with goblin blood, running in great
lines as if it had been laid down by an
artist’s brush.
The struggle was desperate; it would not
end until one side, adventurers or
goblins, had been killed to the last
person. That was the grim truth of goblin
slaying.
“Go
on ahead,” Goblin
Slayer said as
they came to
the mouth of the
valley.
The
words as such
might sound like
he was volunteering
to sacrifice
himself, urging the others to leave him
behind and escape while they could.
Yet there was no sound of anything so
tragic in his voice, which was as cool
and dispassionate as ever.
“I
will break them
here.” His declaration
elicited a look
from the entire
party.
“Can—can
you indeed?” Lizard
Priest asked. He
had shifted his
two
prisoners
so he was
holding them in
front of himself.
If the need
became
great, he could shield them with his
back.
“I can. I have no intention of letting
them reach the village.”
After
this brief answer,
Goblin Slayer nodded
at Dwarf Shaman.
The
dwarf gave a weary chuckle and shrugged.
“Sorry, Beard-cutter, that was my
last weapon.”
“Then, milord Goblin Slayer, take mine.”
“Thank you.”
In place of one of Dwarf Shaman’s
armaments, he received a fang blade
with Sharp Tooth, a sharpening spell,
cast upon it. It was the fourth and final
miracle Lizard Priest could perform.
High Elf Archer, who had been firing
shots as fast as she could load them,
let
out a sigh.
“I’d like to
back you up,
but… Do you
happen to have
any
arrows, Orcbolg?”
The elves were friends of the forest; if
there had been so much as a leafy
branch
in sight she
could have made
a bolt for
herself. But in
the whole
silvery-white world, there was no tree to
be found.
“Use
my sling,” Goblin
Slayer said, pulling
a bag out
of his item
pouch
even as he gave the fang sword a few
tentative swipes.
High Elf Archer caught the bag out of the
air, hearing the sound of rocks
inside as she did so.
“I’m not much for slinging…” There was a
frown on her face and a droop
in her ears. Still, she knew she had no
choice, and she wrapped a stone in the
sling.
“You don’t like it because you’re no good
at it,” Dwarf Shaman said with
a chuckle. “I think it’s time I piled on
the spells myself, Beard-cutter. What
do you say?”
“I
doubt there’s any
purpose in continuing
to conserve them.
Do as you
see fit!”
Dwarf Shaman laid down another Snare. The
goblin paladin would simply
use
Counterspell again, but
at least he
would be forced
to waste one
of his
miracles.
It wouldn’t slow
down the horde
much, but it
might buy the
adventurers just a few precious moments…
Goblin Slayer was taking a deep breath in
when Priestess ran up.
“Goblin Slayer, sir, here’s a potion…”
“Thanks. Save your miracle.”
“Of course. You trusted me to know when
to use it.”
He popped the cap off the bottle she
handed him and drank it down. As he
did so, Priestess busied herself checking
the fasteners of his armor, brushing
away
any snow or
dirt that might
impede his movements.
Then she made a
sign and began to pray.
“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy. May
your blessings be upon us…”
This prayer would lead to no miracle; it
was just a prayer, a benediction.
Yet
Goblin Slayer by
no means saw
it as useless
or meaningless. He had
never been so arrogant as to refuse
anything that someone might do for him.
He tossed the little bottle into the snow
as he felt the effects of the potion
spreading
through his body.
He tilted his
steel helmet as
if unsure what
to
say; he stared at the goblin horde
growing ever closer.
Finally, he said only, “There is a way.”
“Yes, sir,” Priestess replied. She didn’t
question him: not out of love, or
dependency, or
blind obedience. It was simple
faith—a belief in
Goblin
Slayer, the man before her.
He returned the level gaze she gave him.
And then he nodded. That was
enough.
“I’ll
leave it to
you when to
use Protection. And…”
His gaze drifted
slowly toward Noble Fencer.
“……”
Her
generous chest heaved
as she sucked
in breath, but
she was getting
her breathing under control. Preparing to
use magic, perhaps. Goblin Slayer
could guess that much.
No need for him to spell out the details,
then.
“When I give the signal, fire.”
She
nodded, sending a
ripple through her
honey-colored hair. He
added
one
or two things
further. At first
Noble Fencer looked
at him without
comprehension, but then she said, “…I
understand.”
That was all he needed to hear.
In just a short time, he had done what
needed to be done.
Now, there was nothing more to do.
Goblin Slayer looked up at the sky. Were
the heavenly hands still rolling
the dice up there?
“Let’s begin, then.”
No sooner had he spoken than Goblin
Slayer set off at a run through the
snow. He was heading for the goblin army.
The party nodded to one another,
then started to get distance, rescued
prisoners in tow.
Rocks
from High Elf
Archer’s sling went
whistling by. One,
then two.
She was unpracticed at it, but goblins
went down under her barrage, and that
was enough.
Then Goblin Slayer’s inevitable opponent
emerged.
“IGARURUARARA!!”
The goblin paladin.
“Hrmph!”
“IGRUAA!!”
So battle was joined a second time. There
was a ringing of metal on metal
as
their swords met,
sparks scattering over
the snowy field.
The paladin’s
aluminum sword beat down Goblin Slayer’s
outstretched fang blade.
Fwsh!
At their feet, snow rose up like haze. The paladin rushed at Goblin
Slayer
again, but the
warrior swept his
attack aside and
drew back. Goblin
Slayer thrust in retort, but his blade
was slapped down again by the aluminum
sword.
“So you’ve learned.”
“IGAROU!”
Goblin
Slayer kicked snow
straight in the
howling goblin paladin’s
yammering face.
The
monster fell back,
blinded and gibbering.
Goblin Slayer dealt
him a
blow with his shield.
However, a ringing of metal was the only
result.
The goblin paladin had a shield as well.
He was hardly making the most
use of it, but he had brought it up in
time to repel the attack.
“…!”
“GROOB!!”
The
two of them
shoved their shields
against each other,
circling. Their
breath came out swirled and white.
Goblin
Slayer had the
advantage in physical
strength, but the
paladin’s
small size was intimidating in its own
right. The creature struck out at Goblin
Slayer’s shin with his sword, but the
adventurer jumped back, out of range.
He kept his eyes fixed on his opponent,
whose breath steamed, even as he
fought to keep his footing on the
slippery snow and adjusted his grip on the
hilt of his weapon with one soaking hand.
“GRARAB!!”
“Hrk?!”
There
was a muffled
thunk, and an arrow bounced
off his head.
It must
have come from one of the goblin
archers—their army was getting closer.
This was why a helmet was so important.
He shook his head to clear the echo of
the impact, then took stock of the
situation.
“Where’s your honor?!” High Elf Archer
demanded, letting loose another
rock.
It flew over
the archer’s head,
striking the goblin
behind him. The
elf
clucked
her tongue and
fired another missile,
this time nailing
her target in
the shoulder, breaking the bone.
“GRAORURURU…!”
She was hardly in a position, however, to
keep the entire goblin horde at
bay.
The army was
watching the goblin
paladin’s fight, but
that was only
because it proved an amusing diversion
for them.
It did not mean that the effects of
Lunacy had worn off. They were simply
waiting, secure in the knowledge that
whether the adventurer was victorious
or was killed, the outcome would not
change. Goblins naturally had no sense
of what we might call the “knightly
virtues.” Their logic was dictated only by
the
changing circumstances in
front of them.
Whether victory or
defeat
awaited
this challenger, they
would fall upon
him the moment
the combat
was decided.
He didn’t have time to waste.
“Well,
then,” Goblin Slayer
muttered. He spun
his blade around
in his
hand,
dropped into a
low stance, and
raised his shield.
The goblin paladin
recognized this
posture; he gave a hideous
smirk. No doubt
he remembered
their earlier battle. Goblin Slayer’s
round shield was facing him, edge out.
“ORAGARARARA!!”
He
uttered a terrible
war cry and
set upon Goblin
Slayer. His aluminum
sword was at the ready. It would pierce
this half-hearted defense easily.
Behold! Yes, see the sword tip bury
itself in Goblin Slayer’s shield. See
how easily it passes through this
confection of leather and wood and cloth!
It goes through the shield, tearing the
arm, piercing the gauntlet, stabbing
flesh.
Blood runs down
the edge of
the blade, dribbling
onto the snow
and
turning it pink.
The
aluminum sword struck
true, even tearing
into Goblin Slayer’s
shoulder.
The
goblin paladin heard
the soft groan
of someone trying
to suppress
pain. He smirked, thinking he had won.
“You fell for it.”
But in fact, it was the end for him.
The aluminum blade went no farther. He
put all his strength into it, but he
couldn’t make it move.
It
was the hilt.
The hilt of
his sword, heavy
enough to double
as a war
hammer, had become lodged in Goblin
Slayer’s shield.
“Hr—grr!”
“ORAGA?!”
And in a simple contest of strength, no
goblin could hope to overcome a
human.
Goblin Slayer pulled
the sword-pierced shield
back, practically
taking the goblin’s arm with it.
It would be more correct to call it the
shield he had allowed to be pierced.
Otherwise—otherwise, why
would he have
deliberately revealed his
best
killing
move to the
goblin paladin? Why
would he have
attempted to
intercept and attack with his shield even
after his own sword was broken?
“Goblins are stupid, but they are not
fools.”
For the first time, the goblin paladin
saw his opponent’s face. Deep in the
darkness within that steel helmet, he saw
an eye glowing red.
“But you
are a fool.”
“AGARARARARA!!”
Goblin Slayer twisted his fang sword,
ruthlessly tearing out the paladin’s
throat.
There
was an eruption
of vile goblin
blood, polluting the silver world.
Goblin Slayer, who had twisted his body
to protect the aluminum sword, was
drenched in the gore.
“GORA, U…?!”
“GROB! GROB?!”
He stared at the goblins, who stood
frozen with fear there in the valley.
There was no better moment than this.
This was precisely the time he had
been waiting and hoping for.
“Fire!” he yelled.
“Tonitrus…oriens…,” Noble Fencer
responded. And then: “…iacta! ”
Lightning flashed out.
The mountain shook.
The
air expanded as
electricity shot through
it, but the
lightning did not
fall on the goblins. Everyone followed
the spidering bolt with their eyes, up
and up.
The lightning struck the summit of the
mountain.
There was a rumble and a great shaking.
That could only mean one thing.
“H-hey,
that’s a mite
dangerous, isn’t it?”
Dwarf Shaman said
with a
frown.
“I’ve
got a bad
feeling about this,”
High Elf Archer
added, long ears
twitching nervously.
They surely understood: this would well
and truly do in the goblins.
“Mm,” Lizard Priest nodded knowingly. “It
seems it has come.”
A
violent noise like
the drums of
war, or like
the hoofbeats of an
approaching army,
was coming toward
them. And indeed,
death, clad in
white, was stampeding down into the
valley.
It was an avalanche.
“…!”
The voiceless sound of surprise, and the
scream, might have belonged to
either
High Elf Archer
or Noble Fencer.
The one who
exclaimed “Oh, for
crying out loud!” was probably High Elf
Archer.
“GARAOROB?!”
“ORARAGURA?!”
Uttering
unbearable howls, the
goblins were swallowed
up by the
onrushing snow. There was nothing they
could do, no chance to run; they left
not even footprints.
In the midst of this chaos, one person
jumped forward, acting faster than
any other: it was Priestess.
Now.
The word came into her mind like a revelation.
There
was no hesitation,
no reluctance. She
clutched her sounding
staff
and offered up the soul-shredding prayer
to the gods.
“O
Earth Mother, abounding
in mercy, by
the power of
the land grant
safety to we who are weak!”
The white tsunami smashed against an
invisible barrier, parting neatly to
either side.
From
within the miraculous
protection granted by
the Earth Mother,
she
looked at him.
He was so far away. One man, alone, among
the goblin army, outside of
the Earth Mother’s miracle.
She wanted to raise her voice, raise her
hand, even though she knew they
wouldn’t reach him…
“Goblin Slayer, sir!”
Then the white wiped out everything; all
vanished from view.
§
“…Is—is he—?!”
She was the first to get up when it was
all over: Noble Fencer.
Now that Protection had faded, she had to
shake the snow off as she rose.
Everything was
white. The snow had obliterated
every trace of the
fighting
and killing that
she and the
others had wrought.
Not so much
as a
whisker
of the goblins
remained; they were
vanished utterly, as if she
had
only dreamed them.
“…Where is he? Where’s Goblin Slayer…?”
She
looked around, looked
behind herself. There
was no hint
of that
distinctive armored
form. Instead she
saw Priestess, holding
onto her staff,
her breath heaving. She saw her comrades.
Priestess tapped a frozen but thoughtful
finger to her lips and looked at the
foot
of the avalanche.
“I guess he
must be underneath
it all, having
been
swept up by the snow.”
Goblin arms and legs could be seen poking
like dead branches out of the
snow that had slid into the valley.
“Probably,” High
Elf Archer said
with a nod
and a frown.
Her ears
twitched
slightly, once, twice.
“Snow is still
sliding around in the distance.
We’d better not talk too loud.”
“In that case, we’d best go walk to meet
him, I would say,” Lizard Priest
said,
clearing the white
powder off his
body with one
great shake. He
checked that his party, along with the
former prisoners and the Dragontooth
Warrior
who was holding
them, were uninjured,
then he made
a strange
palms-together gesture.
Thanks be to my forebears. All the more so as he had heard that it was a
great cold that had buried them.
“As the avalanche was not so large, I
don’t imagine he has gone far,” he
said.
“……You aren’t…worried about him?” Noble
Fencer asked.
“Of course we are,” Dwarf Shaman replied
easily. “He’s our friend.”
He
stroked his beard,
pulled a wineskin
out of his
bag, and took
a gulp.
Fire and spirits were the way to warm the
body. Then he gave a pointed wink.
“But… Well, you understand by now, don’t
you?”
“This
is Goblin Slayer
we’re talking about,”
Priestess said, a
helpless
smile crossing her face.
Even with this testimony, Noble Fencer
found she couldn’t accept this.
Step
by unsteady step,
the party worked
their way down
the mountain,
searching as they went. It was quiet now,
much the opposite of their fighting
retreat shortly before, but the path they
were taking was enough to make one
faint. With every step she took, Noble
Fencer felt an oppressive weight settle
on her.
If
I hadn’t said
that I wanted
my sword back…maybe
he wouldn’t have
felt the need to do that.
It’s my fault.
My fault.
All of it… All of it my fault.
“…ngh…”
Now
that everything was
over—or rather, now
that she was
thrown into
this
circumstance so suddenly—she
began to appreciate
the full import
of
what
she had done.
Her arrogant strategy.
The deaths of her friends.
The
attack on the village. The delay in
rescuing the prisoners. And Goblin Slayer.
She should have been able to do better
than this. Even just slightly. Things
shouldn’t have ended in this abject
failure.
Go back to the beginning: if she hadn’t
become an adventurer at all…
Her eyes, staring at the ground, began to
blur; it grew hard to see.
And yet, she just made out something
moving.
“Oh…!” She didn’t mean to make a noise;
she clapped her hand over her
mouth.
Something
was crawling on
all fours through
the snow. It
must have
noticed
them coming, because
it responded abruptly—by
shaking off the
snow and rising to its feet. It was a
man.
“I made a mistake,” he said.
He
was wearing grimy leather armor.
A cheap-looking steel
helmet. He
had no sword at his hip, and the shield
on his arm was shattered.
“I
should have been
more worried about
the impact than
about
suffocating.”
Mistake or no, however, Goblin Slayer
appeared perfectly calm.
“…G-Goblin…Slayer…?” Noble
Fencer could hardly
be blamed for
the
note of disbelief in her voice.
“Yes. You need something?”
“Is that all you’ve got to say?” High Elf
Archer asked in exasperation.
“Hmm… So you’re safe.”
“That’s
my line… I’ve
got to admit,
I thought it
was weird that
you just
happened to bring along rings for
breathing.” The elf pressed her brow as if
fighting a headache. But her ears bobbed
happily.
Suddenly
it made sense
to Noble Fencer.
She looked at
her hand. A
magical
ring, its effect
long since expired,
peeked out from
among her
bandages.
The Breathe ring.
Snow was just water, so… So…
“…Did you know all of this would happen,
all along?”
“To an extent.”
“Goblin
Slayer, sir,” put
in Priestess, “I’m
used to the
fact that you
are
who you are, but…” She concluded in a
mutter, “You could have at least let
us
in on the
plan,” and looked
at him reproachfully. “I
know you said
you
wouldn’t do anything outrageous, but I
was still pretty surprised.”
“Don’t
be silly.” Goblin
Slayer was on
all fours again,
digging in the
snow
as he spoke.
“Our enemy was
an intelligent goblin.
What if someone
had let something slip, undermining the
plan?”
“Who cares about what-ifs? We were
worried about you!”
“Hrk…”
“Will you please tell us what you’re
going to do, starting next time?”
After
a pause, he
said, “I understand.”
That was his
whole answer. The
rough voice readily suggested a sour
expression beneath the helmet.
Quite
suddenly, Lizard Priest
let out a
happy hiss, a
smile spreading
across
his jaws. “Goodness,
milord Goblin Slayer,
it seems your
famous
strategies don’t work on our dear cleric.”
“You
said it, Scaly!
Even your nagas
aren’t as scary
as a woman
scorned!”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha! Even so! Even so. You speak
true, master spell caster.”
The dwarf and the lizard laughed
together. They were tired, but their faces
were cheerful.
High
Elf Archer only
shook her head,
looking away from
them and into
the
distance. Noble Fencer
followed her gaze
to find a
clear blue sky
and a
sun so bright it was hard to look at.
“There’s
about a million
things I’d like
to chew him
out for,” High
Elf
Archer said, a smile just touching her
lips. “But this is the way an adventure
has to be.”
Adventure.
The word cut Noble Fencer to the quick.
Go on an adventure—sneak into a monster
nest—work your way through
a maze…
The friends with whom she had first
attempted such things were gone, and
she had only just met the friends she was
with now.
I see… So this was an adventure…
“Hey.”
“…!?”
Surprised, Noble
Fencer spun to
look at the
source of the
unexpected
voice.
“I
found it.” Goblin
Slayer stood up
again, holding something
he had
pulled out of the snow.
The scabbard gleamed brightly in the
sunlight.
With a nonchalant motion, he pulled the
aluminum sword out of his shield
where
it had become
lodged. He shook
it to clean
off the blood—his
own
blood—then wiped it gently with a rag.
Finally, he put it into the scabbard he
had found with a click.
“I was able to hold on to the sword, but
the sheath was carried away with
the goblin paladin, who still had it at
his hip.”
“……Oh…oh……”
“I think an avalanche was a mistake.”
“…oh… sniff…”
Noble Fencer took the proffered sword in
both hands; she could feel the
weight
of it. Her
vision blurred even
further; she blinked
several times to
clear it. Then she rubbed her eyes
furiously, but no matter what she did, she
couldn’t stop herself. She wiped her
nose, but that didn’t help, either.
Droplets of water began to fall on the
sword, bouncing away.
Goblin Slayer watched Noble Fencer very
seriously as she stood weeping.
Dispassionately, almost mechanically, he
said, “You do cry a lot.”
Noble Fencer clung to the sword and wept
with all her might.
Interlude 02
Is it over? Could it be over?
Illusion and Truth finally take their
eyes off the board, look slowly up at
each other.
They
look at the
board again, then
at each other,
then at the
board one
more time, before slowly starting to
smile.
There’s a clap as they high-five each
other.
Illusion is beaming, and Truth has his
arms proudly crossed, looking quite
satisfied.
One must not think that the gods desire
to torment adventurers or people
or monsters.
The
gods sometimes fail,
or the dice
turn against them,
and they may
fume and rage.
But
even so, an
adventurer, confronted with
a villain, is
quick to assail
them.
No doubt the feeling is mutual.
Now—the adventure is over. A resounding
success!
They
will speak of the deeds
of the adventurers.
They will praise
the
hearty fighting of the monsters.
They
will admire how
terrible the traps
were and how
clever the
adventurers who escaped them.
With Truth and Illusion so joyful, the
other gods assemble around them.
Chaos is there, and Order. Fear and Time,
even Death and Void!
It’s a celebration, a great commotion, a
blessing.
No one knows if it is Fate or Chance who
decide how the dice fall.
There are good results as well as bad.
Those that inspire joy as well as
sadness.
Some results give victory to the
adventurers, some to the monsters.
Though
one may struggle
and strive to
discover a treasure
chest,
sometimes the result means one fails to
open it.
Such is life.
Cry or laugh, the number of pips on the
dice won’t change.
All the more reason to adventure.
And is there anything more wonderful than
that?
Chapter 07
“All riiiiight! We made it another year
without dying!” It was near dawn, and
Guild
Girl’s excited voice
rang through the
crowded tavern. “To
thank the
gods of fate and chance, order and
chaos—let’s have lots of fun today!”
“Haaaaaappy New
Year!” the adventurers
cried with a
great shout; they
raised their cups and toasted and drank.
Truly an inspiring sight.
All the adventurers in town were gathered
at the Guild tavern, practically
overflowing from the place. Today, the
long winter was finally over, and the
new year was beginning, moving all and
sundry to raise their voices.
“I’m
telling you, I did all kinds of things this past year!”
“So, you did.”
Spearman was busy enumerating his many
brave deeds, muttering into his
drink. Beside him, the voluptuous Witch
gave a sensuous smile.
“I beat the crap out of stuff with my
spear, I slayed a bunch of monsters,
even got some experience with magic.”
“I am, most aware.”
“And
that’s why you shouldn’t compare me to some weirdo with a goblin
fixation!”
“Sure, sure. You did indeed, work hard.”
Over
at the next
table, Heavy Warrior’s
party teased their
leaders about
their budding romance.
“And so it’s all, You oughta settle down yourself!”
“Y-yeah. Wait. Are you talking about the
letter your mother sent you the
other day?”
“‘How can you call yourself a good child,
leaving your parents home and
worried about you?’ she says!”
“Er, y-you know my parents are gone.”
“…Hey, are you listening to me?”
“Yeah,
yeah, sure we
are. Will somebody
do something about
this
drunk?”
“You’re our leader’s bride. Come on, do
something already.”
“Seconded!”
“Hurry up and take responsibility. The
rest of us can’t handle him.”
“I will not forsake my vow as a righteous
paladin of Order!”
“Damn it all, ain’t anybody know how to
listen around here?!”
At length, somebody with a talent for
stringed instruments was moved to
pluck out a tune. Everyone in the room
began to hum along to the endlessly
carefree requiem.
O adventurer,
what tragedy that you should die.
Scant space there is on a tombstone.
O adventurer, your name I do not know,
but though you have not left it to us,
O adventurer, if you call me friend—
O my friend,
what tragedy that you should die.
People
claim there are
many hedonists among
adventurers. Those who
pay no mind to tomorrow, heeding neither
the future nor the past.
But that isn’t precisely true.
Many
adventurers who have
survived for very
long are realists.
They
recognize
that one may
chase one’s dream,
may use every
means available,
yet may die without reaching it.
How
foolish, then, to
regret anything: be
it small mistakes,
a failed
adventure, or the death of one’s friends.
If one cannot meet these things with a
smile and move on, then what hope
is there?
“You
humans do love
a ruckus, don’t
you?” High Elf
Archer eyed the
celebration from her spot at a corner
table. “End of the year, start of the year,
middle
of the year…
Give you half
a chance and
you’ll be drinking
and
shouting. You’re worse than the dwarves.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,
Long-Ears.” Dwarf Shaman, holding a
roasted
chicken with both
hands, was in
high spirits. How
could he be
otherwise? The
New Year’s celebration
was larded with
every kind of
delicious food and wine aplenty. There
was nothing better for a dwarf.
“Who
said it was
a bad thing?
It is the
new year, after
all.” High Elf
Archer winked at Dwarf Shaman, then
sipped her drink. The cup in her hand
contained grape wine, to which she had
added sugar.
She looked around the table, taking in
her companions. “So. What are you
going to do?”
“…Right.”
Noble Fencer nodded,
almost imperceptibly. Her
honey-
colored hair was just starting to grow
out again; it reached her shoulders now.
A little more and it would cover the scar
at the nape of her neck. “…I intend
to…to meet with my parents, talk things
over with them.”
Her face was still dark, but she managed
a slight smile. She had changed
into
simple clothing by
no means suited
to an adventure,
but her weapons
remained
at her hip.
Her armaments consisted,
of course, of two aluminum
blades, one short and one long. As long
as she had them, all would be well.
Her fingers brushed them gently.
“…I want to make graves for my friends,
too. Then I’ll decide where I go
next.”
“Sounds good to me,” High Elf Archer
said. “Family and friends are both
really important.”
“The Age of Ice has long since passed,
the chalk layer is long buried, and
the time of my forebears distant, but
their blood is here.” The somber words
Lizard
Priest murmured sounded
like some kind
of prayer. Then
he opened
his jaws wide and inhaled a piece of
cheese.
Nectar!
Sweet nectar! He
lashed his tail and squinted
his eyes at the
richness of it, chewing eagerly and
swallowing it down before finally taking a
breath.
“Every blood member of your tribe may not
be a good person, but I agree
that it is best to value our relations.”
“…Yes.
Um, about that.”
This seemed to
be the push
Noble Fencer
needed.
She couldn’t quite
bring herself to
look up, blushing
slightly and
shifting in her seat as she said, “…I’ll…
I’ll write to you. Letters…”
Those were, in the end, the only words
she said.
“Yes,
please,” Priestess responded
immediately. “Any time
you have
anything to tell us, don’t hesitate to
write.” She had been at the Temple for a
ceremony marking the passing of the year,
after which she had taken a bath,
so she was now pleasantly warm. She took
Noble Fencer’s hand in hers and
held it firmly. “I’ll write back to you,
lots and lots!” she promised.
“…Right. A lot. I’ll write plenty to you,
too.”
“Oh,
me too!” High
Elf Archer interjected.
“I’ve always wanted
to try
writing a letter to a friend.”
The
three girl adventurers
chatted away happily.
Two more women
watched
them, smiling: Guild
Girl, who had
sneaked to their
table for a
breather, and Cow Girl, whom she’d
gestured over.
“Hee-hee-hee. Quite friendly, aren’t
they?” Guild Girl said.
“They sure are! Maybe I’ll write a
letter, too.” Cow Girl was leaning on
the
table (apparently the
celebratory atmosphere had
convinced her not to
stand on ceremony), her huge chest
squished against the surface. “I don’t get
a lot of chances to meet other girls my
age, working on the farm.”
“You
don’t meet a
lot more of
them working at
the Guild, believe
me.”
Guild Girl put some pepper on the
stir-fried liver she’d ordered as a side dish
and
brought it to
her mouth, nodding.
“Plus, we’re officially
discouraged
from getting too close to the
adventurers.
“Not that that stops us,” she added with
a mischievous wink.
The
five women were
only tenuously connected,
but they bonded
immediately. Time and friendship are
often thus.
But
this meant that
the men, of
whom there were
only two, were
grievously outnumbered.
“I could wish milord Goblin Slayer had
joined us tonight,” Lizard Priest
said quietly.
“You said it,” Dwarf Shaman replied.
“Beard-cutter needs to have more of
these
opportunities.” He rested
his chin on
his hands but
then snapped his
fingers as if he had had a wonderful
idea. “I’ve got it. That’ll be one of my
resolutions for the coming year.”
“Don’t
hold your breath,”
High Elf Archer
said, giggling at the men’s
dispirited exchange.
“I guess he’s
an exception anyway.
Orcbolg doesn’t
seem to be much for festivals and
celebrations and merrymaking.”
Indeed, the adventurer called Goblin
Slayer was not to be seen anywhere
in the tavern. Priestess stretched her
little body to look around, but there was
no
sign of him.
“You’re right, even
though he seems
to be able
to hold his
liquor perfectly well. Where is Goblin
Slayer anyway?”
“Ahh…”
“Hmm…”
Guild Girl and Cow Girl made strained
noises and refused to say anything
further, but exchanged a meaningful
glance.
“As his childhood friend, I’m sure you
don’t want to budge…”
“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. It would be a
lie to say I’m eager.” Cow Girl
laughed, took a sip of her drink, and
nodded once. “But maybe… Maybe just
this year, I will.”
“Maybe so. He said he wouldn’t go to the
fair.”
Priestess
was thoroughly flummoxed
by this enigmatic
but seemingly
significant conversation.
As she looked
on in confusion,
Cow Girl noisily
pulled out a box from beside her.
“Well, maybe we can ask you to deliver a
message for us, then. Okay?”
“A message?”
“Yep.”
“Uh, I don’t mind, but…”
“Hold
on. Is that…a
boxed meal?” High
Elf Archer, her
long ears
jumping, leaned in and peeked at the box,
full of curiosity. “Bread, soup… If
you need someone to go outside, I could
do it.”
“No, Miss Elf, I think you have plenty of
chances,” Guild Girl said with
an ambiguous smile.
“Huh? I don’t know what you’re talking
about, but if you say so…”
“I do,” Guild Girl said to the suspicious
forest dweller, taking a draught of
her drink.
High Elf Archer drained her newly
refilled cup, her ears bouncing all the
while.
The warmth of
the wind spread
through her body,
and as her
mood
improved, she began feeling more
generous.
“Sure, fine,” she said. “I don’t mind,
whatever you say.”
“You’re
it, then,” Cow
Girl said to
Priestess, bowing her
head with a
mixture of regret and apology.
“R-right. Um, okay, then. Where should I
deliver it?”
“Well, if he’s doing what he usually
does, then—”
§
Isolated from the frontier town, distant
even from the farm, was a sprawling
field.
A snowy wind blew freely there, with
nothing to block it.
There was only a small tent and a single
flickering bonfire.
The horizon was dark; it was a new day,
but dawn was still far off.
A
man sat next
to the fire.
Suddenly, he looked
up, as if
he had just
noticed something.
“There are no goblins. You may come out.”
“……That’s no way to talk to a lady.”
With
a rustle, Priestess
walked out of
the bushes, answering Goblin
Slayer’s summons. She had walked half an
hour from town, and now she held
her
frozen hands toward
the fire with
a sigh of
relief. She was
wearing a
poncho to ward off the cold, but it was
still a winter night.
“Just what are you doing out here?”
“I’m
on guard.” His
answer was every
bit as succinct
as she expected.
“Most
people are at
New Year’s celebrations.
Goblins may take
the
opportunity for a retaliatory attack on
us.”
Come
to think of
it, he said about the
same thing during
the harvest
festival, didn’t he?
The
flash of the
revived memory left
Priestess with an
unpleasant
premonition, and she found she couldn’t
help asking:
“Perchance, do you do this every year?”
“Don’t ask silly questions.”
“S-sure. Right.”
“New Year’s Eve comes every year.”
Oh, for… This impossible, impossible man.
By now, Priestess was well aware of what
was going on. The delivery she
had been asked to make—food in a little
box—made perfect sense, too. Cow
Girl
and Guild Girl
knew just what
he was up
to; they were
worried and
wanted someone to check on him.
“I do this every year. There’s no
problem.”
“Yes, there is!”
“Is that so?”
Despite
his friends’ worries,
Goblin Slayer himself
seemed utterly
unconcerned, sitting by his fire and
staring into the darkness. Everyone else
was back in town, living it up on New
Year’s Eve, and he was here, all alone.
“I
can’t believe it. You’ve
even set up
a camp. You’re
sleeping out
here…”
“The
harvest festival was
attacked. There are
no guarantees it
won’t
happen again.”
For goodness’ sake… That only happened
once, and yet he’s talking like
he’s already caught a goblin!
There was simply nothing more Priestess
could say.
The
wind picked up.
Snow began falling
again, little flakes
darting
through the silence.
Unexpectedly, there
came a quiet
murmur from Goblin
Slayer. “…I’ve
spent ten years slaying goblins.”
Ten years.
Priestess could only blink at the
thought.
In all the time they had known each
other, she had never really asked him
what had happened to him, back…before.
How
many days, how
many hours, had
he expended on
the killing of
goblins?
“That is why I can stand against them so
capably. But… I cannot promise
that the goblins will never evolve.”
His speech was slow and measured. He
filled in the pauses in his words
by poking at the fire. The flames, which
had begun to burn low with the cold,
sprang back to brilliant life.
“Do you know what the goblin paladin was
planning?”
“No…”
“Metalworks. A refinery.”
A gust of wind sent snow spiraling around
them.
“That’s
impossible…,” Priestess said.
When she spoke,
she found her
voice
was shaking more
than she expected.
It must have
been because she
was cold. It was winter, and snow was
falling. Surely that was it.
“Yes.
But I can
think of nothing
else,” Goblin Slayer
said, dropping his
gaze to the fire. The glow of the flames
cast strange shadows on his helmet.
“A
dwarven fortress. Mining
tools. And that
girl’s aluminum sword.
It was
forged from a jewel, by lightning. Meaning…”
He didn’t have to finish his thought.
Priestess understood.
A blade forged with lightning from a red
gem…
Goblins
rarely if ever
conceived of making
anything themselves. If
they
needed lightning, they would simply steal
it.
From some stupid spell caster–adventurer,
say.
They would capture a wizard, break her
spirit, and then force her to cast
spells until she died. With that, a
goblin army in possession of metal would
be born. They would be clad in armor,
their heads protected by helmets; they
would wield swords and shields.
True,
the idea could
be dismissed as
nothing more than
an obsessive
fantasy.
There were too
many uncertain elements.
For example, what
had
really
been a part
of the goblins’
plans? Had it
begun with the
intention to
capture
Noble Fencer? Or
did it reach
back to when
they first made
the
dwarven fortress their base? Still…
“Is
it fate or
chance that moves
the events of
this world? Even
the gods
don’t know…”
The
words that spilled
suddenly from Priestess’s
mouth were the
truth
indeed.
Just what influenced
the dice rolled
by the gods
in the heavens
above? That was a huge mystery.
It’s a question we can’t answer no matter
how much we think about it.
As pointless as trying to count the
number of goblins in the world.
“I don’t know how much or how long I can
prove opponent for them. But
I will not relent.”
And
yet, this person,
this man, was
spending his life
attempting exactly
that.
“For…
For crying out
loud!” Priestess let
out a breath
and smacked
herself
on her cold,
stiff cheeks. “It’s
always goblins, goblins,
goblins. The
minute you open your mouth, that’s all
you talk about.”
“Erk…”
“You have to relax once in a while, or
you’ll run your body and soul into
the ground.” Priestess put her hands on
her hips and looked away from him
like a pouting child. It was partly in
jest, partly to tease, and partly deliberate.
“I suppose you think goblin slaying is
more important than enjoying yourself
with your friends.”
“…No.”
“See? Just what I thought. It’s New
Year’s Eve! You could at least—”
…No?
“Wha?”
Caught
totally off guard
by this impossible
word, Priestess looked
him
square
in the face.
As square as
she could anyway,
with him wearing
his
helmet as always. She couldn’t even see
his face.
Yet,
somewhere behind that
visor, she thought
she could just
glimpse a
red eye…
“I
confess, parties are
not my strong
suit,” he said.
“But I’m glad
everyone enjoys celebrating.”
Sheesh.
Priestess
let out a
long sigh. The
white smoke climbed
up into the
heavens.
They budged for me, so I could be here…
“Silly
man… A warrior,
all by yourself?
You should at
least have
someone on backup to help you.”
“……It’s cold.”
“I know.”
“I see.”
Her
short answer had
evoked a short
response. All the
same, he moved
aside to make room for her closer to the
fire.
Priestess
slid her small
body in beside
him, spreading her
poncho so it
covered both of them.
“Well, then, that’s that. Let’s have
something to eat, why don’t we? It’ll
help us keep our strength through till
morning.”
They were close. They had been closer
before sometimes, on adventures,
yet somehow she found herself feeling
shy.
She looked away from him and busied
herself putting a stew pot over the
fire,
stirring it. A
sweet aroma billowed
from it, and
Priestess deliberately
focused her attention on the smell.
“Looks like it’s stew. I’ll warm it up.”
“I see.” A pause. Then: “…Oh, that’s
right. There’s something I meant to
say.”
“What’s that?”
Goblin Slayer smiled, just slightly.
“I look forward to another year of
adventuring with you.”
AFTERWORD
Hullo, Kumo Kagyu here. How did you
like Goblin Slayer, Vol. 5? This was
a story in which goblins showed up on a
snowy mountain and had to be slain.
I hope you enjoyed it.
Once
again, Noboru Kannatuki-sensei provided
fantastic illustrations.
Thank you, Sensei!
In
Volume 4, there
were goblins in
some of the
black-and-white
illustrations; in
this volume, they
show up on
the color pages.
Those
goblins…they’re multiplying.
To
Kousuke Kurose-sensei, thank
you for producing
such an awesome
manga version of the series every month.
By the time this volume is released, I
think the manga should be catching
up to the “attack on the farm” sequence.
I’m sure it’s going to be amazing!
Thank you, too, to all my readers,
including all those encouraging me on
the web. Thanks so much to the site
admins. I’ll keep on giving it everything
I’ve got.
To my gaming buddies, thank you for every
session. Although I still think
there was something weird about that one
roll…
To
all my creative-type
friends, I’ll keep
leaning on you.
It’s thanks to
you that I’m able to write.
To
everyone in the
editorial division, and
everyone involved in the
production of this book, as always thank
you so much.
So,
Goblin Slayer and
his friends have
survived a year
of adventuring.
That’s surely thanks to everyone out
there.
And me, I’ve survived a year of
writing Goblin Slayer, a year in which a
lot
has happened. Translations
have appeared in
multiple languages; I was
invited to Taiwan; drama CDs, a manga
series, and side stories have all been
released.
Life really is full of the unexpected. I
keep thinking I’m going to open my
eyes and find myself lying in bed. It’ll
turn out I’ve just been sleeping for a
whole year!
The
other day, a
dancing-girl adventurer danced
her heart out
at the bar
and made enough money to take care of her
entire party. I’m of the opinion
that adventuring doesn’t pay well
considering all that you have to put into it,
but if you want to make your way in the
world, it’s kind of unavoidable.
The
great men of
the past said
that adventuring just
meant finding new
ways to die.
Incidentally, that dancing girl gave the
money she made to her husband.
Thank you, honey! Be my breadwinner!
The
money was put
into the party’s
common fund. Ah,
Mr. Husband,
what fine and measured judgment you
display!
Our dear Priestess will probably need to
start considering what adventure
means to her soon. Volume 6 will probably
have something to do with that,
as well as being a story where goblins
show up and need to be goblin-slain.
I’m going to write the best book I can. I
hope you’ll join me!
