According to his fumbling explanation, back when everyone thought the raiders attacking the city were plain old bandits, he’d gotten injured falling into a trap while he was patrolling the forest for clues. Apparently, an elf who called herself Lucida had come to his rescue there.
“I come to the forest from time to time myself, but lately bandits have been appearing nearby... I suspect they’re the ones who set that trap. I’d like to drive them out of this place,” she’d said, and Randa had believed her. She’d then proposed that they work together. “We’ll share information periodically and use it to outflank the bandits. But if rumor about me gets out in town, the bandits might come after me, so you can’t tell a soul about this.”
It was a pretty fishy story in hindsight, and there was a good chance the trap Randa had fallen into had really been set by Tessius’s gang.
“I just never thought elves would do such a thing,” Randa whispered tearfully.
The conflict between humans and elves over the forest was long over by the time he was born, and humans generally thought of elves as the intellectual, non-aggressive sort. It would’ve been asking too much for him to catch on to Lucida’s shiftiness immediately.
There was a possibility that Alaina, another elf, had also been sent into the city for reconnaissance—but I personally didn’t buy it. The reason was simple: external shyness and internal braggadocio were a bad combination for any spy. If the enemy was stupid enough to send someone like her to infiltrate the town, this whole ordeal would’ve been over and done with before Gourry and I ever arrived in Atessa.
“Hey.” Randa looked up, pleadingly, at Zel. “Is she... Lucida... Is she really with them? It’s not just some mistake?”
“No mistake,” Zel declared firmly. “She’s part of Tessius’s gang. Probably using you to gather intel on the city. We caught sight of her armor in a fight, and Tessius would only give that armor to people he trusts. I know because he didn’t trust me, and he didn’t even tell me that he had it.”
We’d only caught a glimpse of Wings in the forest fight, and hadn’t seen the wearer’s face, but it was safe to assume she was with the Hounds.
“Then...” Randa began with a grim expression, “I was completely taken in... and I leaked information about the city to the very people trying to destroy it! That’s why they were always one step ahead of us...”
His despair was understandable. I recalled how shaken he’d been when he’d learned we were up against elves. He was having trouble processing the fact that he’d been deceived. But even so...
“What... What am I supposed to—”
“No one cares!” I delivered a chop to his head as I yelled. Crack!
“Whaaaaaaaat?!” Everyone else shouted in surprise for some reason.
I ignored their baffling reaction and continued on. “We don’t have time to listen to your whining! You can worry about making amends after this is all over! What we have to think about right now is what to do next!”
“What? Um... well, I guess, but...?” Randa muttered, clearly confused.
“If you really want to take responsibility, get it together and help us put an end to this! Your punishment will be up to MacLyle! The end! Now...” I took a look around the room. “I told the Hounds I’d torch the forest if they attacked the city again, so if we stay here, they’re bound to attack for sure. So we’re gonna grab what we need, get outside of town, and stay on the move. Master MacLyle, please let Amelia know.”
“Could you tell us where you’re going?” MacLyle asked.
I shook my head. “If we tell anyone, there’s a chance the enemy will hear of it and send someone after us, so mum’s the word. We’ll initiate any communication from here on out. Do you think you could stock us up on rations?”
“Of course... Oh, and I have news as well,” MacLyle said. “After learning of our enemy’s identity and the attack on the city, the mayor put in an official request to Zephilia for aid. But even if they dispatch troops right away, they’ll take over ten days to arrive.”
“Ten days?” I frowned. “Seems a little fast.” That was about how long it took just to get to the capital from here. “Wouldn’t sending a messenger to the capital and then dispatching soldiers would take way longer?”
“It would. But apparently our local sorcerers’ council has a room where they can contact the sorcerers’ council in the capital, so they used that to explain the situation. Though we’re still awaiting an official reply.”
“Okay, got it,” I said. That made sense. Even a town without an official guard had to have some preparations in place to call for aid when needed. “Oh, and tomorrow, send a follow-up message about the powerful armor they’ve got. Specifically, that they can fire laser beam attacks and our attack spells don’t work on them.”
“Bffffft!” My unvarnished infodump caused MacLyle to spit out his tea. “Are you serious?”
“Why would I joke about that?”
“Can we really fight them?!”
“Do we have another choice?”
“V-Very well... I’ll let the capital know. Is there anything we can do? I can rally the local security force if you need.”
“Not right now,” I responded. “I don’t think force of numbers is going to convince Tessius’s gang to back off.” On the contrary, sending waves of men after the Zanaffars was a good way to end up with a lot of dead men and no fewer Zanaffars. “But I might still ask for your aid depending on how things unfold, so please be on standby.”
“Of course. I’ll do anything I can,” MacLyle agreed firmly.
I was glad to have reinforcements from Zephilia on the way. If possible, I would’ve loved to leave the whole affair in their hands... but the soldiers had never fought a Zanaffar before, and I had my doubts about how much resistance they could mount. Now, if someone like my sister decided to drop in, she’d have it all wrapped up by lunchtime the next day. Still, the bigger problem was whether, even with my threat to check them, Tessius and his gang would really give us those ten days.
I could only imagine they were expecting the eventual arrival of backup on the city’s behalf. And that being the case... there was a chance they’d attack sooner rather than later.
We heard the blade slide out of its sheath, and then a faint purple light appeared in the darkness. It wasn’t a reflection of the magic lights on the walls; the sword itself was faintly glowing.
“Is this...” Was it just my imagination, or was Alaina’s whisper even more hushed than usual? “What...?”
“I told you. The sword responds to magic power by getting sharper,” I responded.
After we’d finished our conversation with MacLyle and the others in town, we’d gathered our things, departed Atessa, and returned to the abandoned mine we’d made our base camp. Obviously, we’d been careful to make sure we weren’t followed.
Inside the chilly, damp shaft, our lamps illuminated carpets and tapestries of moss. We’d shared a meal of jerky and bread, then after a breather, I’d asked Alaina to remove the seal on Gourry’s sword.
She set down the bag she’d brought from the inn and got to work. Gourry, Zel, and I kept watch around us.
Alaina silently removed Gourry’s sword from its sheath, and the blade drew our gazes instinctively. “I understand the principle... but what is this spell-writing?”
“Spell-writing?”
“It’s right there on the blade... Oh, right, humans can’t read it.”
Which suggests the writing is associated with the astral side somehow...
“Does it look like words to elf eyes? All I see is a faint purple glow...”
“I’m not sure how to describe it. It’s like there are several layers of words, thinner and finer than threads of hair, written upon it... I understand that magic power makes its blade sharper, but it’s so very intricate... It truly is a remarkable weapon.”
You’re telling me...
I was intentionally avoiding saying it, but Gourry just put in casually, “I think he said it was called the Blast Sword?”
“What?!” Alaina looked up and stared at Gourry. “The legendary blade? But... this is...” She then looked back down at the sword. “Yes... It very well may be...”
“My last sword was the Sword of Light, though.”
“You must be joking... or lying,” Alaina said without a glance back at him. I suppose her skepticism was reasonable, though.
“So?” I asked. “Can you remove the seal on its edge?”
“I believe I can. Whoever placed the seal intended for it to be removed,” she said as she took a few things from her bag and lined them up around her.
A spool of thread. A bottle of some kind of medicine. Small crystals... judging from the color, probably celestite. Some kind of bone fragments. Dried herbs. Even someone like me, who knew a whole lot about magic, didn’t recognize a lot of what she was using.
I was about to witness an elven magical technique. I didn’t even know if humans could do what she did, but my sorcerer’s curiosity was through the roof. I wanted to draw in closer to watch, but I didn’t want to make Alaina so nervous she messed up. So I just watched silently in the penumbra of the lamplight.
She removed the lid from the small bottle and placed a pinch of its contents on her left index finger. It looked like powder. I’d have liked to ask about it, but I stayed quiet lest I interrupt her work.
She took the spool of thread in her right hand, then brought her left index finger and thumb together to apply the powder to it. The powder-covered thread ran between her fingers... Normally it would have dipped down on the other side, but instead, wreathed in a pale purple glow—the same glow that wreathed the Blast Sword—it traveled through the air without support, touched the blade, and...
“The thread disappeared?” Gourry asked.
Alaina responded, her eyes fixed on the thread and the blade. “It didn’t disappear. The thread is weaving itself into the words of the spell.”
“I see...” Gourry nodded along, even though he clearly didn’t understand at all.
“I’m just using a mediator to fuse the thread to the words of the spell so that I can extract them.”
“Just,” huh? It sounded like she was saying she was stitching the writing so it would disappear when she removed the thread... but the very idea seemed like total nonsense to me.
Alaina added more powder to her finger and sent more thread into the spell. I don’t know how many times she repeated that mundane-looking ritual until...