Chapter 20

1 HEAVY RAIN Heavy rain fell. Lightning streaked across the sky, and large droplets pounded the earth as if summoned by the cacophony. The wind was strong enough to topple even a mighty warrior. For Bash, however, this was a mere post-workout shower. “The rain just keeps comin’, eh, Boss?” “Indeed.” Several days had passed since Bash had left Lycant, the beastkin capital. The rain began falling during the journey, and although both were sure it would stop soon, it just kept growing stronger and eventually swelled into a storm. The torrential downpour showed no signs of letting up. It had been shaking the forest for days now. “Hmm, still can’t see much, eh, Boss?” Zell had flown up above the treetops several times to scout ahead, but visibility was poor due to the rain, and it was difficult to see even three hundred feet in any direction. However, Zell was a seasoned fairy and was able to figure out the direction of their destination using the handy acronym PAS… In other words, by making use of the ideas of probably, approximately, and somehow. It never failed. “Yep, the demon country is this way! The weather sucks, but let’s put our best foot forward, eh, Boss?” “Yeah!” Heavy rain had caused rivers to overflow, causing parts of the forest to flood, and roads that should have been passable were now submerged in muddy water. Bash, already up to his waist in water, headed in the direction Zell was indicating. The demons. The leaders of the Coalition of Seven and the strongest of them all, this race was the one the Alliance of Four feared the most. Therefore, in order to make peace, the Alliance of Four had decided to push the Demon Kingdom to the edge of the continent. In the northwest of the continent, a barren land surrounded by steep mountains and cliffs… The least valuable land of all. This land was given to the demons, essentially imprisoning them here. Therefore, in order to enter the demon land, they had to cross a great valley. Algardia Valley. The valley, so named, was extremely deep and wide, with a river flowing at the bottom. The current of the river was so strong that even a warrior of Bash’s caliber would have difficulty crossing it without using a bridge. There were a few bridges that spanned the valley, and each bridge had a checkpoint. The checkpoints were fortified and operated under the control of the Alliance of Four. That’s how much the demon race was feared. “Ah! Isn’t that the border, Boss?” At length, something became faintly visible ahead. It was a stone building, the type that had become a familiar sight during the war. A human stronghold. “They’re strict,” said Bash. “It gets rowdy in these parts. The borders are well guarded. Or at least, I assume so, Boss.” This was the border to the demon country. The checkpoint, which had been turned into a fortress, was incredibly imposing. It was daubed all over with warding paint, and magical symbols were drawn here and there. Human architecture, dwarf warding paint, and elf magic circles. This was beastkin territory, but each country had chipped in, to keep close tabs on the demons. But of course Bash and Zell had no particular awareness of any of that. The checkpoint entrance was always locked with a sturdy iron gate, one of the ones that the human race was so good at crafting. The gate would only open when someone with a valid pass appeared. Someone like our Hero, Bash. “Careless of them. They’ve left the door open, Boss.” “Hmm.” But the door to the fort stood open. It didn’t even matter if they had a pass or not. The thick double doors swayed and creaked in the wind. “…Something’s happened here.” Bash withdrew the sword from his scabbard. Many years of battle had honed his sword senses. “Well, I don’t smell any blood, Boss…?” “No sign of anyone about.” “Hmm. I know, Boss! I’ll do some scouting!” “Would you?” Zell zoomed into the stone fortress. Bash followed, without any particular sense of caution. “…What’s this?” An eerie sight awaited them. A fallen chair, a desk strewn with papers. Shattered shelves. Cards all over the floor. A fight took place here, Bash determined. They were caught off guard, ambushed. The scene had that look to it. Bash knew. But something was amiss. No dead bodies, no bloodstains. If there’d been a violent conflict here, there would be some sign of it. Who would clean up corpses and bloodstains and leave the furniture and cards scattered about? “…Hmm.” There was no sign of anyone around who might have created this scene. Now, you might think Bash is a rather oblivious individual, but those who know him know that he never lets his guard down, no matter the situation. Bash stepped slowly through the odd scene, reaching the end of a passage. The entrance to the Demon Kingdom… In other words, the exit of the fort. At the end of the passageway, which was wide enough for two carriages to pass by each other, stood a set of doors as large as the ones at the entrance, quaking in the storm. Bash looked behind the trembling doors and saw pounding rain soaking the stone bridge that spanned the valley. The stone bridge, too, had been reduced to rubble. There was no doubt that there had been a fierce battle here. “Boss…” Zell returned just then. Zell swooped around Bash, explaining the situation with wild gestures. “The inside of the fort is completely abandoned. It’s impossible to tell what actually happened. But there’s zero doubt that someone went on a rampage here, and then made the bodies disappear.” “I see…” Bash paused, then shrugged. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little curious about what had happened here. But it probably had nothing to do with them. “Still, it troubles me, Boss. If there’s no one at the checkpoint, you might be suspected of illegal entry.” “…What should I do?” “Hmm…” Zell looked around and noticed the scattered documents. “Aha! Humans often write orders and such down on paper, right? So why don’t we write down something that’ll make it look like you passed the border check?” “I see… Sure, let’s give that a try.” “Okay, I’ll write something, Boss. Let’s see… The Orc…Hero…Bash…Is Hereby…Permitted…Entry.” Writing isn’t really something orcs or fairies do very often. In fact, most orcs and fairies can’t write at all. But Zell could both read and write. Even among fairies who can read, few can write. And those who can often produce writing that’s barely legible to other races. So in their fairy homeland, Zell had been given the moniker “Zell of Letters.” “This should do for us, Boss… Though I’m still a little worried about all this.” “If we meet a human soldier, we can just explain.” “You’re right, Boss!” If this had been wartime, the two would have sensed the danger evident from the condition of the fort and returned to their home country to report the situation. But it was not wartime. And the two of them had a mission. Taking all that into consideration, they couldn’t put a priority on going to report the abandoned status of the fort. “Shall we go, then?” “You said it, Boss!” Bash returned his sword to his back holster and stepped out into the storm. The rain, hastened by the howling gale, pelted Bash all over. But it was still just rain, and compared to the water spells he’d been hit with during the war, this was a mere sprinkling. But it was still strong enough to obscure visibility. “Hmm!” By the time Bash noticed it, it was already too late. Was it caused by rain, or was it created when someone attacked the fort? There was a large crack running right through the stone bridge. The moment Bash put his foot on it, the crack made a loud crumbling sound and rapidly expanded… Then the bridge collapsed. “B-Boss!!!” Bash heard Zell’s screams as he tumbled, helpless, down into the river. Bash was a veteran warrior. He had fought against many enemies and earned many victories But he was not invincible, nor was he immortal. This is bad… The river, swollen due to the storm, was a muddy maelstrom, sending Bash’s body spinning and slamming him against the rocks over and over again. Was he a poor swimmer, you ask? No, not so. Orcs are forest dwellers, but during the war there were many battles that were waged on water. Rare indeed is the warrior who can’t swim. However, being buffeted by violent waters, with his feet unable to find purchase, and without the strength to swim against the raging current… Can’t…breathe… Orcs can hold their breath several times longer than humans can. Bash was an exemplary orc, and he could hold his breath for a very, very long time. Whether in deep water or faced with thick smoke, being able to hold your breath is another important quality for any orc warrior. Yet there are limits. “Glurble!” Eventually, Bash managed to surface. His body was at the limits of its endurance, and his eyes were practically bugging out of their sockets as he gulped down fresh air. Bash, who had been trying to kick against the riverbed whenever he got the chance and propel himself upward, now found himself sinking beneath the weight of his sword as the current swept him away. It did not seem that he would manage to break the surface again. Or so he thought, and yet… “?” Suddenly, Bash’s body stopped rotating. In his fading consciousness, Bash saw something. There was something moving in the water. He strained his eyes but could not make out its shape. Had it become one with the water? Or was it water itself? Regardless, its very presence seemed to gently envelop Bash. His ragged breathing grew easier. He stopped spinning. And he was no longer being slammed against riverbed or rock. A spirit…? But a spirit of river, cloud, or storm? Bash didn’t know exactly what, but it seemed to be some type of water spirit. He had never seen a real spirit before, but he’d heard tales of their existence. They exist all over the world, are free and unrestrained, and sometimes they help people out. Other times, however, the spirits seek to bring people harm. Either way, I have to show gratitude. Still half-dazed, Bash thanked the spirit as the water whisked him away. The spirit undulated… Perhaps Bash’s words had resonated. For some reason, Bash felt like it was trying to tell him something. Spirits were a manifestation of the capriciousness of nature. They did not seek to help people of their own goodwill. They made an exception for those they were fond of, those who had formed bonds with them from childhood. Bash had never encountered one before. Even if a spirit does not feel warmly toward someone, they may make a request of them from time to time. Great calamity will befall those who turn their nose up at the spirits or fail to honor those requests. Such legends had permeated the land of the orcs as well. So Bash tried to heed the desires of the water spirit. What is it you require…? But Bash had no way of comprehending its response. The only people who can understand the language of spirits are those who have had repeated interactions with them since childhood. If this was a wind spirit, Zell might have been able to communicate. Fairies and wind spirits are kin, Zell might say. Guh… Bash began to lose consciousness. The spirit’s undulations seemed to indicate some sort of desire, but Bash could not decode it. Was this reality? Or a death hallucination? Before he could think on it any further, Bash’s mind lapsed into a deep, deep darkness.