5
The group departed not long after the sun had reached its zenith, in the hottest part of the day. The horse carrying Deedlit and Ghim led the way, followed by the carriage driven by Etoh.
There was nowhere for the witch to hide in the bright afternoon, but they still couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. Parn and Slayn probably felt the same despite being asleep—crammed uncomfortably on the carriage seat, they both moaned in their sleep with every bump in the road.
“Shouldn’t be long now,” Etoh murmured with a glance at the sky. There were several huge, pillar-shaped clouds to the west—it would likely rain that evening, but they would probably reach Adan before then.
Etoh glanced behind them on the road. There was no one there.
As he turned forward again, however, he noticed a black speck high in the air. He blinked to clear his eyes—it was still there.
He had a bad feeling.
Woodchuck was lost in thought, staring blankly at the unchanging rural landscape. He was mostly daydreaming about the reward from the Valis royal family. The Holy Knight who’d promised them a reward had died, but returning a princess to her family had to be worth a lot. He could use that money to become an executive of the Alania Thieves’ Guild—or maybe he’d open an inn somewhere. Or he could even spend the rest of his life doing absolutely nothing.
That made him smile for a moment, but then he shook off that train of thought. Surely he was capable of doing something more. If he convinced himself to be satisfied with an ordinary life, he’d never make up for the twenty-odd years he’d lost in prison.
I gotta do something big…
His thoughts were interrupted by a poke to his side.
“Woodchuck—what do you think that is?” Etoh asked.
Woodchuck looked where the priest was pointing. He narrowed his eyes. “That black dot?” he asked. “Hm. It’s pretty far, so it’s hard to tell—but it’s gotta be a bird.” He snorted, annoyed that Etoh had intruded on his happy fantasy for something so trivial.
“Just a bird?” Etoh said. His heart pounded in his chest, and he couldn’t shake the bad feeling. “Let’s wake Slayn and Parn, just in case. There’s no way that’s just a bird—it’s so far away, it must be huge, whatever it is. And it keeps getting bigger—I think it’s heading straight for us!”
Woodchuck looked again. As Etoh had said, the bird did seem strangely large. “It better not be a dragon,” he said in a shaky voice as he opened the small window. “Slayn! Parn! Wake up—we’ve got a job for you!” He pulled out his dagger, though he knew it’d be useless against whatever beast flew at them.
“Whoa!” Etoh cried, stopping the carriage in the middle of the road. Deedlit turned back with a questioning look.
“Hm? What’s wrong?” Slayn asked sleepily, thin face peering out the window. He was still groggy, but upon seeing the alarm in Woodchuck and Parn’s expressions, he climbed out of the carriage, putting up his hood to escape the oppressive sun.
“Look!” Etoh pointed, and Slayn strained his eyes.
“I can’t tell from here…” He shook his head, then mumbled a spell under his breath. He focused on the black mass again, then his mouth opened in astonishment. “That’s a roc! It’s a legendary bird, extremely rare—only ever seen in the desert east of Flaim. They say they’re messengers of the gods… But why would there be one flying around here?!”
“A roc?! There’s no way!” Etoh cried. “It has to be the witch transformed. Look at the size of it!” Etoh was almost screaming, his calm demeanor overwhelmed by the panic the thought of Karla’s fearsome powers roused.
“That does make sense,” Slayn admitted. He gripped his staff and prepared to cast a spell.
Just as Parn and Fianna emerged from the carriage, the roc flew over their heads, flapped its massive wings, and landed before them in the middle of the road. The wings blew a huge cloud of dust into their faces; they crouched with tears in their eyes, rubbing to get the grit out.
Once they could all open their eyes again, the giant bird was gone—and in its place was a woman in a purple dress, a staff in her hand. She walked forward slowly, a faint smile on her lips like she’d found a new toy.
The witch Karla stopped quite close to them, the circlet with its eye-gems gleaming on her forehead. “I suppose not enough time has passed to say that I missed you,” she said in a gentle voice.
Parn drew his sword and stepped forward to protect the others, ready to spring into action. Slayn held his staff out sideways and recited a spell in his mind, tapping his foot to enhance his focus.
“Why are you here?” Etoh asked in a hoarse voice. In the light of day, he could see the witch’s pale, strikingly beautiful face. Her coal-black hair that seemed to absorb the light. A powerful magic emanated from her whole being—and while he couldn’t suppress his fear, he could overcome it. He refused to surrender to her power.
Slayn thought she looked strangely sad. But a moment later, the woman’s eyes shone blue and cruelly intelligent. Her red lips began a bewitching dance.
Parn heard a strangely musical murmur. He braced himself, sword and shield prepared, determined to take on her magic with his entire body. Anger welled up inside him at the thought of all that power used for injustice.
But somehow, the witch’s strange words seeped into the anger he was feeling. Parn blinked. The witch was smiling at him, not the frosty expression from earlier—her gaze was full of tolerance and patience, like that of a goddess of mercy. Parn realized she would never harm him. His weapon drooped in his hand.
“Stay alert!” Slayn warned. “She’s casting a spell on you!”
The voice seemed like it came from far away, but it snapped Parn back to his senses, and he willed himself to stay grounded.
“None of your tricks, witch!” Parn shouted in rage. He swung wildly, as if trying to destroy the spider’s web entangling him. Etoh half expected Parn to charge her then and there, but the young warrior simply resumed his original stance, burning eyes locked on the sorceress.