Chapter 158

CHAPTER 4 The Winter Spirit’s Lullaby Long, long ago, three ice spirits lived in a snowy forest. Their names were Shelgria, Alteria, and Romalia. The ice spirits were kind and loved humans. When autumn ended and winter approached, Shelgria announced the arrival of winter. Alteria made the ice into chimes and rang them, producing beautiful tones. Romalia sang lullabies over the cold blizzards, telling the little children not to fear the sounds of snowstorms. Shelgria invited winter in, Alteria rang the chimes, and Romalia made blizzards into lullabies. The three spirits were good friends, and they were always together. One day, a dragon attacked the forest where the three spirits lived. Dragons did not normally attack spirits, but this dragon had lost most of its mana and gone mad. It wanted to eat spirits, beings of pure mana, to recover its own. The dragon snapped at the three spirits, biting and chomping, until the spirits were on the verge of dissipating. They fled in desperation. They ran and ran and ran. But as they fled, the three spirits who had always been together found themselves separated. Shelgria, now all alone, mustered her remaining strength to write a message on some leaves, then sent them on the northerly winds, begging for help. Help me. Help me. This is where I am. Help me. Help me. Alteria, Romalia… When Alteria learned of the danger Shelgria was in, she rang her chimes of ice and pleaded for the spirit god to help. Please, God, hear my call. Please, God, lend your ear to my voice. Please, God, grant me some small measure of your grace… Alteria, too, had weakened almost to the point of dissipation. Nevertheless, she continued to earnestly ring her chimes. Eventually, the spirit god noticed their sound and granted protection to Alteria. Alteria found Romalia, and with their combined strength, they created a blizzard to fell the mad dragon and rescue Shelgria. Cyril, the limp ice spirit cradled in his arms, followed Sezhdio. Glenn walked beside him, occasionally casting a worried glance at the injured spirit. Ray Albright followed in the rear. After Relva attacked, the group entrusted the fight to Raul and barely escaped with their lives. Then Sezhdio had offered to take them somewhere safe, so they’d followed and had been walking through the forest ever since. How long has it been since then? Cyril looked up at the sky. Thin clouds floated past the sun, but he could tell it was still high in the sky. It was probably sometime after noon. Just then, Glenn made a startled noise and stumbled. He seemed to have tripped over a tree root. Kelielinden Forest was full of hills and valleys and was difficult to traverse. Sezhdio showed no mercy for his two-legged companions, either, and would plunge calmly down game trails thick with foliage and bound up steep slopes. This had left the whole group quite weary, but Glenn seemed to be having a particularly rough time of it. Cyril reaffirmed his grip on Ice Spirit while keeping a close eye on his underclassman. …Something’s off. He hated to admit it, but Glenn had much more stamina than he did. Yet, for some reason, he was staggering along, clearly exhausted. “Dudley, are you unwell? Did you get hurt somewhere?” “Nope! I’m totally fine!” Glenn returned a toothy grin, but it seemed somehow forced. Cyril’s face clouded. “Glenn Dudley, apprentice of the Barrier Mage…,” mumbled Ray. “You were cursed by the dragon in Rehnberg, right?” Cyril had heard rumors about Glenn being present when the Cursed Dragon of Rehnberg appeared. But this was the first he’d heard of Glenn being cursed. Ray’s pink eyes glinted as he gave Glenn a once-over. “Yeah, I thought so. It’s not completely gone yet… It must have been even more stubborn than I’d thought. You must feel pain, numbness, and fatigue… Perhaps the Silent Witch’s injury is also worse than I anticipated…” Cyril’s eyes went wide at the last part. He looked at Ray. “The Silent Witch?” “She was cursed on her left hand… Not as badly as Glenn Dudley, but she probably can’t get much use out of it.” Cyril felt his hands begin to sweat. He recalled the petite young woman he’d met during the New Year festivities at the castle. That’s right. She was holding her left hand, as if protecting it. He thought of her little hand, like a child’s, peeking out from the sleeve of her robe… “How long do you intend to rest?” Sezhdio’s voice broke into Cyril’s thoughts. The wolf had turned back to them and was now stamping the ground with his foreleg to hurry the group along. “Sezhdio, Dudley isn’t well. Could we let him take a little break?” “What are you talking about? Don’t be naive. Safety is still a ways off.” As Sezhdio stubbornly urged them on, Ray glared at him. “…Are we really headed for safety?” he asked. Cyril felt the air around them freeze. Sezhdio stopped stamping the ground. His sunset-colored eyes moved to stare back at Ray. Ray grasped the edge of his hood and continued muttering. “The mana here is clearly thicker than before… The trees are denser as well. Doesn’t this mean we’re actually going deeper—?” Sezhdio jumped and used his giant forelegs to drag Glenn and Ray to the ground. Cyril blinked in surprise. It had happened in mere seconds. Pinning Glenn with his right leg and Ray with his left, Sezhdio roared, “Ice spirit! Freeze them!” “Sezhdio, what is this?!” demanded Cyril. “Do it now, Ice Spirit! Without their offering, you will dissipate!” Cyril automatically looked down at the ice spirit in his arms. The spirit opened his eyes weakly, seeming dazed. He wasn’t fully conscious yet. “What is the meaning of this?!” cried Cyril, his voice pained. “Weren’t you taking us to persuade the flute player?!” “If we had been successful…then the flute player alone could have served as an offering. But we no longer have time. At this rate, Ice Spirit will dissipate.” At those words, Cyril finally realized how stupid he’d been. Sezhdio had decided to use their group as a sacrifice the moment Ice Spirit was wounded. That was why he’d offered to lead them to safety, then guided them deeper into the forest instead. He’d purposely chosen difficult terrain to exhaust them and render them less able to resist. “And an ice spirit’s offering is frozen life,” Sezhdio continued. “Flowers have little mana—humans are much better and will grant him that much more strength.” “But…but wait! Isn’t there another way?!” “I know of none. If you have an idea, human, then speak.” Cyril thought desperately. But he didn’t know much about spirit ecology—only what he’d learned in elementary magecraft textbooks. It wasn’t enough. His knowledge was nowhere near enough. And I call myself part of the Lineage of the Wise! As Cyril despaired, the ice spirit in his arms began to speak. “…Sezh… Don’t…,” he squeezed out, his voice weak. Spirits didn’t shed tears, but Ice Spirit trembled as though he were about to. “I must not…steal anyone else…or from anyone else…ever again.” “Naive fool! You will dissipate otherwise! I do not wish to see any more of my race perish!” As Sezhdio roared, Glenn—still under the wolf spirit’s giant foreleg—quietly chanted. He probably wanted to use flight magecraft to slip out. Sezhdio mercilessly put more weight on his back. Glenn’s chant cut off as a puff of air left his lungs. “What an annoyance. I will bite off your limbs. Then you will be still!” Sezhdio opened his mouth wide. Each of his fangs was thick and sharp, like a knife. But before they could devour Glenn’s body, Sezhdio’s hind legs froze to the ground. The spell wasn’t Cyril’s—it was Ice Spirit’s doing. “Ice Spirit! You fool!” Sezhdio raged as Glenn scrambled out from under his foot, then grabbed Ray’s arm and pulled him out, too. The ice covering Sezhdio’s hind legs rapidly expanded until eventually, his entire body was frozen. A spirit couldn’t freeze to death or suffocate. However, Sezhdio wouldn’t be able to move until the other spirit melted the ice. Cyril felt the weight in his hands grow lighter still. A fracture now ran through the spirit’s armless body, and mana leaked from it. Cyril held Ice Spirit closer and tried to bring his broach as near to him as he could. If his excess mana could keep this spirit alive for just a little longer… And yet it was clear to everyone that more mana was leaving the spirit’s body than entering it. “VP…” Glenn shot him a painful look. Ray, whom Glenn had helped, said nothing. He watched Cyril dispassionately, without sadness or scorn, as he tried to save the ice spirit on the verge of dissipation. His eyes were those of a wise sage whose job was to bear witness and properly remember all that he had seen. “Yeah, I know…,” Cyril murmured, feeling the weight of his own powerlessness. “I know. I do…” He understood the reality of the situation. His knowledge and skills weren’t enough to save this ice spirit. He also understood that spirits weren’t like humans and that they sometimes brought humans harm. But Cyril still wanted to help. I want to save him so badly… The fracture in the ice spirit’s torso was almost to his neck. But I can’t…I can’t do anything. The spirit shifted slightly in his arms. His ice-blue eyes lost focus. In a daze, he looked up at Cyril. “Human. Human, are you…crying?” His voice was so weak that Cyril had to listen very closely to hear it. A faint smile came to the spirit’s cherubic face and softened, as if he were comforting a young child. “Crying child…does the blizzard frighten you? …Then I will sing you a lullaby.” “Ice Spirit, what are you—?” Cyril closed his mouth before finishing the sentence; the ice spirit was already singing. “To’o lais malofivin’e luah me’eray lai.” The lyrics were words most humans couldn’t understand. The melody was gentle, as though softly comforting a frightened child on a dark night. Low spirits began to drift and gather about the ice spirit. Ray, who had watched in silence until now, widened his eyes in surprise and groaned. “This blizzard is a lullaby for you. Child, sleep peacefully…?” he recited. That was probably what the words meant. Not many people knew the language of the spirits, but if anyone might, it would be one of the Seven Sages. …Blizzard? Lullaby? Cyril immediately recalled the winter spirits of legend. There was Shelgria, who heralded winter. Alteria, who rang the chimes. And… He spoke the next name that came to mind. “Romalia…who makes blizzards into lullabies?” “Wait, isn’t that the winter spirit the month is named after?!” Glenn cried out in surprise. Cyril couldn’t blame him. How many people had ever seen the spirits they’d named their months for? Even Ray, a Sage, couldn’t conceal his surprise. “He’s still alive…?” The youthful, boyish ice spirit—Romalia—smiled faintly. “I remember now… I loved songs… Shelgria would announce the winter’s arrival, Alteria would ring the chimes…and I would sing songs to the little children on snowy nights so they wouldn’t be frightened.” Shelgria, Alteria, and Romalia—the three spirits of winter were known to be particularly friendly to humans, and many heartwarming stories were told about them. That was why their names had been chosen for the winter months. “Shelgria, Alteria, and me… We all loved humans…before…” His ice-blue eyes wavered sadly. It was the same expression he’d had when he’d told them, in self-admonition, that he couldn’t ask for their help. “…R-Roma…lia?” stammered Cyril. The ice spirit squeezed his delicate eyebrows together, as if he were about to cry. But no tears fell, only fragments of mana, escaping his body. “I…I killed a human… That’s why…I could never ask for your help…” Cyril nearly asked what he meant. But the ominous ka-clank, ka-clank of metal cut him off. Ray whimpered, and Glenn’s expression turned grim as they all gazed deeper into the forest. Magical suits of armor were approaching them. Cyril could already make out more than ten, and there might well be more. Not only was their group exhausted, but Sezhdio and Romalia were in no condition to fight. Ray buried his face in his hands and put on the bleak smile of someone given up to despair. “Ah… We’re all dead, aren’t we…?” Bradford and Monica were walking together when the former suddenly stopped and scanned their surroundings. He looked like a birdwatcher, listening closely for their calls, his eyes peeled to spot them among the branches. Birds, however, were not what he was looking for. “Something about this forest just changed… It feels like the spirits are restless.” Monica didn’t know what he meant. Louis probably didn’t, either. The latter walked ahead of the others with his ax on his shoulder, not slowing down even as he turned back to them. “I’m not sure I follow…but if you say so, then something unusual must have happened to the forest spirits.” Those with high mana capacity were said to be sensitive to changes in mana and the presence of spirits. Perhaps that was why Bradford and Raul, whose capacities were large even among the Sages, sometimes had particularly good intuition. Both of them tended to be easygoing and a bit careless, but their senses were extraordinarily sharp. I wonder if something happened to the Witch of Thorns and the Abyss Shaman… They were supposed to be protecting Lord Cyril and Glenn… As Monica fidgeted, Louis stopped ahead of them. “I see it. That’s the Gem Mage’s hideout.” Ahead of Louis, Monica could see a cozy little house in a grove amid the trees. There was a spring next to it, and the burbling water branched into several small streams. That was what had led them there. Now we just have to destroy his magic items and Galanis, the Flute of the False King. Then we set the spirits free, finishing up the mission… Taking custody of the Gem Mage was not one of their objectives. Even if they captured him, they didn’t intend to hand him over to the authorities. Louis stared at the hideout. “I should probably explain my main concern while we have the chance. It’s about Galanis.” “You have been awfully preoccupied with destroying that thing, haven’t you? …What is it?” Bradford gazed at him searchingly. Louis pushed his monocle up with a finger and nodded. “I did as much research into the ancient magical item as I could…and all throughout history, whenever it appears, there’s a war.” “Well, yeah. Most ancient magical items are basically weapons. If you’re gonna use ’em for anything, it’s gonna be war.” Monica recalled Starweaving Mira, the item the Starseer Witch kept watch over. It was made to absorb mana from the land, but it could also reuse that mana for offensive magecraft. Depending on how one used it, it could easily become a weapon. The Flute of the False King could control spirits. It wasn’t hard to imagine someone using those spirits for war. “I paid special attention to those who have possessed it throughout history,” explained Louis. “The holder was always the one who triggered the war—or a close aide to such a person.” At that, an awful premonition settled over Monica. The second prince’s grandfather, Duke Clockford, was spoiling for a war. And he favored the Gem Mage. Louis lowered his voice and continued. “I believe that Galanis uses deceitful language to seduce its user into starting wars.” There had been no major war in Ridill since the one with the Empire five decades ago. A few border skirmishes, perhaps, but no wars. At the end of that conflict, the Kingdom of Ridill was defeated. At first, the mages in the Kingdom’s army had pushed the Empire back. But then the Empire had used an ancient magical item called Bern’s Mirror to reflect their attack magecraft, leading to a crushing defeat for Ridill and ultimately the loss of the war. “Galanis is also called the War-Bringing Flute. Furthermore, we know that if certain conditions are met, ancient magical items can take over their user’s mind and body.” Louis stopped there, thinking for a moment. “If I were Galanis, I would flatter the Gem Mage, put him in a good mood, and have him use tons of mana. Then, when he was exhausted, I would take over. Once I’d finished using his body for whatever I wanted, I could simply assign all responsibility to him, then pass into the hands of a new user.” Leave it to Mister Louis to think up such heinous ideas, thought Monica. But why would Galanis want to start a war? Wars were contests between people over land and resources. What would an ancient magical item like Galanis stand to gain? Now that she thought about it, Starweaving Mira was also an ancient magical item with a difficult personality—it wanted to kill the man it loved. I don’t really understand how ancient magical items think… Besides, would Galanis even—? “My fellow Sage?” Louis’s voice intruded on her thoughts. “Have you noticed something?” “Oh, um, nothing that important, but…I just wonder if Galanis would even help that much in a modern war.” The mana here in Kelielinden Forest was dense, and the spirits were numerous. They gave Galanis the ability to exhibit its true worth. But if a battle took place somewhere with less mana, the spirits under the item’s control would eventually dissipate. Even if someone made spirits a power source for other magical items like the Gem Mage was doing, there were only so many spirits he could use. “If I were Galanis, I would pollute the land with mana to make more areas with high mana density. Then there would be more spirits, which would allow it to expand its area of activity, right? The more spirits it has, the stronger Galanis becomes, so…” The expression began to disappear from Monica’s face as she sank deeper into thought, and her voice grew increasingly dispassionate. Louis scowled. “I’m once again reminded never to make an enemy out of you.” “Huh?!” “Your ideas are always so inhumanly brutal, my fellow Sage.” “Whaaaaat?!” That was exactly what Monica was always thinking about him. As she worked her mouth trying to respond, Bradford beat her to it. He sounded appalled. “If you ask me, you’re both awful. But trying to predict the worst possible outcome isn’t a bad idea. Just make sure you don’t lose your humanity in the pursuit of logic, all right?” Bradford used his dignity as their elder to quiet Monica and Louis, then he cast his sharp eyes about their surroundings. “I noticed something, too. We found a bunch of traps when we first entered the forest, but we haven’t seen any since.” “Perhaps it’s so the spirits and soldiers don’t accidentally trip them?” Louis replied smoothly. Monica agreed with him. The spirits under the flute’s control and the magical armored soldiers didn’t seem capable of complex thought. That must have been why traps like Spiralflame had only been laid near the edges of the forest. “Could be, could be… It’s just that Gem is a coward. Why wouldn’t he have something in place to protect himself? What I’m saying is…” Bradford stroked his beard and lowered his voice. “He must have one hell of a trap in store for us somewhere.” “Then please blow it up, which you are so good at doing,” said Louis. Bradford flashed him an intrepid grin. “My thoughts exactly. I’m the Artillery Mage, after all!”