Chapter Eleven

Just as I tell Percy to put his efforts into achieving his goal, instead of just accepting the way things are, is when the carriage that we’re riding in stops. Though lost in thought, my friend goes to help the other workers with setting up for the night. The sun has just started setting so we have a few hours yet, but making camp is not pleasant in the dark. I stand and watch to see how these people set up a tiny village at a rapid pace, tents are erected and carriages are placed strategically in the middle of our settlement. The drakes are brought away, far enough that they can frolic and play without needing to be excessively considerate of our frail and fragile human bodies.

Torches are put in place and the workers set up a campfire just outside of the encampment, fire is dangerous work. Nothing is lit up yet as the sun is still sufficient to illuminate the world, though some of the food prep is already underway. With very little to do; I go out to explore. The woods beckon my adventurous spirit, which I only recently discovered. My impromptu journey takes me towards the drakes first, I see the same handler that let me ride Bertha before and wave at him.

Bertha is also happy to see me and I narrowly avoid her enthusiastic charge. One embarrassing death dodged but more are incoming as Bertha’s gal pals are hot on her heels. It’s a sight to see, but preferably from a distance. Between the drakes that are here, there’s enough mass to snap those wooden palisades of the previous villages like twigs. I have no desire to be flattened, nor do I want to serve as a warning for others, so with a quick spell I am propelled upwards. Sailing over their heads feels fantastic, when the weightlessness ends, and gravity asserts itself, I find the sensation less amazing. It takes another awkward burst of air to halt my descent. Unfortunately, I still lose balance and plant my face in the dirt.

I get up with dirt in my mouth and hair. My luscious blond locks look less than stellar I’m sure, though there’s no doubt it wasn’t much to look at even before. Traveling takes its toll, even if that just means having dirty hair.

Then I spot the handler lying on the ground too, weak from laughter at my antics. My face heats up but I try to keep whatever dignity I still had by walking off in a confident stroll. Until Bertha pushes me straight back to the ground with a well-timed nudge at my back. Her body is massive, however, so it’s more of a subtle headbutt instead. I continue lying on the ground for a while, trying to become one with the earth. Eventually, Bertha loses interest in my corpse and goes to play with her friends. I get up slowly, adamant about erasing any memory of this from my brain.

“I guess I should be glad she didn’t step on me,” I mutter, feeling defeated.

In a much less upbeat mood, I continue my adventure and head further away from the camp. Trees surround me and roots take over the ground. A thick layer of moss is dampening the sound of my footsteps, it occurs to me that it would dampen more than my own footsteps. With that worrying realization in mind, I continue forward, admiring the trees around me. I reach an area that’s dotted with giant boulders, a natural maze with which much of my sight is obscured.

“You know,” I state out loud, “It must be really easy to get lost here.”

When I look behind me I find the path I took… gone. There’s just a boulder right behind me. Did I make a turn earlier? But when I retrace my steps I find a tree placed between boulders that I haven’t seen before. My pace quickens, as does my heart rate, as I hurriedly look around for a way out. The sun seems to be going down at lightspeed and my worries grow.

I remember the sun blinding me when I looked back at the camp after what definitely did not happen with the drakes, and so I turn towards where the sun is setting. Seeing… nothing, no path, and no way out. While I consider the risks of propelling myself into the sky again, the sun hides completely; though its light does not leave quite yet.

Knowing full well that I don’t want to be here the whole night, I get ready to fly. The levitation magic I used at Lorvia isn’t good at quick movement and burns through too much mana, so instead, I utilize a small barrier and a less small explosion of air. While my altitude increases substantially I re-cast the barrier spell, though with a much different configuration.

When I reach the highest point and my weight seems to disappear, a thin sheet of mana hardens above me. My impromptu parachute isn’t as effective as I expected, but a few quick refinements fix the main issues. I now drift down slowly, which gives me plenty of time to scour the ground for any signs of life. Preferably fire, since the others should have lit up the torches by now. I expect the campfire to be burning already.

Before I spot any traces of the caravan, I am instead greeted with the sight of a red glow hidden between the many boulders that dot the ground. My mind provides me with a helpful reminder in the form of memories, the monster in the basement still haunts me. The raw emotions flooding through me distract me, but not enough to miss the telltale sight of fires in the forest further ahead. In an uncharacteristically bold move, I glide towards the scarlet light. My landing is soft and on one of the giant stones. Body tense, I get down on my stomach and peer over at whatever is creating that blood-like radiance, though it isn’t a comfortable position, I very much do not want to be spotted; even less so when I witness the horrifying scene below.

In a clearing between walls of rock, there is a collection of small, red, fairy-like beings. Big heads are stuck to a small body that seems entirely too thin. Their long limbs drag over the ground, and though they can’t be more than a meter in height, that’s still a sight out of a nightmare. The strange creatures seem stretched in an unhealthy way. I firmly believe my capacity for odd things has grown significantly with my transmigration, as did my open-mindedness. Without a lie in my being, however, when I say these creatures are more otherworldly than I am. There is a visceral wrongness to their existence, like a traced drawing that isn’t quite up to par.

Any boldness remaining in my system is removed at the sound of their chittering, a bug-like noise. There are at least a dozen of them, idling around a big red crystal. Next to me the sounds of footsteps nearly stop my heart. In the small valley, between the rock I’m on and the others surrounding the demons, there’s a group of five of the red creatures, they march while carrying something. It’s only when they reach the crystal that I get a clear sight of what it is; the gruesome view of mutilated cadavers reaches me. Some rabbit-like creatures were cut open and broken to pieces. The returning demons press their prey to the blood-red crystal in the center of their hideout, the material melts like water around the corpses. Then the absorption finishes and nothing remains but some blood spatters on the ground

Calmly, collected, with not a hint of fear, nor pressure, I book it. Barriers block any sounds I make as I propel myself away from this horrid location, towards the lights I saw earlier. Boulders grow less common in seconds as I dash forward, aided with well-timed bursts of air. Trees slow my progress and I drop the magically enhanced movements. Full of pride in my athletic prowess, I trip over the first root I encounter, and for the third time today, I eat dirt. I pick myself up and move much slower this time, I keep going towards where I saw the torches before.

My relief is audible when I see the caravans, but I can’t relax yet. So I head towards the campfire I saw them build before I even left. The roaring flames reveal Percy talking with the cook. With the ample light, I also spot James on the other side of the firepit. He’s talking with an armored man I haven’t seen around before and, especially after my experience just now, I feel my body tense. After a deep breath, I force myself to unwind; for approximately three seconds. Then it sinks in that I know the character speaking with the merchant. Unless I’m wrong, and I deeply hope I am, that’s a knight of the Order. The emblem on his chest piece mimics the one above the gates of their castle. Then, with no warning, his head snaps towards me and we make eye contact.

“Any paladin is free to stay with me,” the merchant says jovially, though his smile is somewhat forced. While the Order of Sight is still popular, there’s been growing resentment among the people too. Something should be done about that soon, we do need their goodwill to survive; something the higher-ups seem to forget.

Unfortunately, it’s not like I will have any say in that, not now that the commander sent me away towards the capital to serve the bishop. While some people would be overjoyed, I’m not so naive. While being stationed at the Sanctuary Castle was a chore, and the honor is something I couldn’t care less about, it was only a decade or two before you could retire with enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your life. It wasn’t even dangerous, just highly classified, no one can find out what is stored in the sanctuary in the basement after all. It would render their demon-slaying activities moot, worthless.

A shiver goes down my spine and out of instinct I search the area for any signs of danger, I only spot a brown-haired man looking at me. He seems frightened though the light makes it hard to see. The armor was imposing, after all, it isn’t that weird for a commoner to feel fear at the sight of it. Something about his hair rubs me the wrong way though, odd. Then, the brown-haired youth marches towards me, and I hesitantly reach for my sword. That turns out to be unnecessary, the young man steps toward the merchant instead.

“Sir?” he says, and the trader stops talking at me, looking at the newcomer instead.

“Sam! Where have you been? We were about to send a search party for you!” he claims, but I’m doubtful the crafty trader was going to. Nonetheless, the brown-haired youth called Sam responds.

“I was exploring the forest,” he says, “but that’s not important.” Then he looks towards me shiftily, reeking of a guilty conscience.

“Well? What are you trying to tell me?” the trader eggs him on. With a sigh, the young man gives in.

“There’s demons.” Sam all but whispers. My eyes widen at his words and training takes over. I grab the youth by the arm.

“Where,” I order, but instead of the expected reactions, either an answer or turning into a stuttering mess, the young man glares at me with emotionless eyes. Then turns back to the merchant.

“Just beyond the forest there’s an area filled with these giant boulders, they’ve set up camp there.” With his arm still in my grip, I ask him for more information.

“What type of demon did you see?” I question. This time he turns towards me, his eyes reveal anger hidden within, but he answers me now.

“A whole load of small people like things, barely a meter high. They’re thin and long, their arms drag over the ground even when they stand,” he spits out. I do my best to ignore the venom laced in his words.

“Large heads with big eyes?” My question only makes his eyes squint.

“Yes, with red skin,” he elaborates. They’re imps, no doubt about it.

“How many?” They’re always in groups but they’re not strong. Unless there’s a whole swarm… After a moment of thinking, Sam answers.

“About twenty maybe? There’s a red crystal too, they seemed to feed it with animals.”

“Shit,” I let out, but the expletive is fitting. If they have a birthing crystal then we cannot delay this. The longer we wait the more of them there will be, eventually, they’ll infest more regions, creating more crystals as well. That’s why they’re a high-priority extermination target. If I let them go then I can forget about being a paladin. For once, the brown-haired youth relates with me it seems, nodding at my cursing.

“They’re imps, and that crystal makes more of them when they feed it enough. They’re like ants in that way,” I explain. The merchant looks worried.

“We’ll have to escape quickly then,” he says, and I have to restrain myself from slapping him. As if I can ignore an imp nest.

“We’ll have to eradicate them,” I state, projecting an air of confidence.

“Eradicate them!?” the trader sputters, “Didn’t you hear what Sam said? There’s twenty of them, you think I’m going to risk my caravan against twenty demons?” Anger is clear in his voice, but he seems to have misunderstood the situation.

“There’s twenty, yes, but they’re weak demons. They just spread quickly and thus we are required by law to do our utmost to remove them,” I remind the man, he might be cowardly but he can’t refuse the law. Judging by the frustrated look in his eyes, he’s realized the same as I.

“Fine,” he spits out, “But I’m only handing you a few guards. We still need to protect the caravan after all. Can’t spare any mages.” My right eye twitches at his words, does this idiot not realize it’d be much easier to just overpower them completely? Torch the area and call it a day, or a night in this case. Though imps are famously sensitive to magic, so, hold on. I face the young man again.

“Did they see you?” He shakes his head.

“I used magic to get away silently too, so there’s no way they noticed me.”

“Shit!” I curse loudly this time, “Fuck! They’ll be here soon then.” Confused looks surround me.

“Imps can sense magic, they’re very good at it. They’re also excellent trackers and not much slower than humans. They must have followed you.” As if ordained by god himself, the telltale sound of chittering can be heard. Then, a small figure dashes towards us, standing at the edge of the campfire as we are.

The shrill sound of a sword leaving its scabbard rings in my ears and, when I find the origin of it, I can feel the urge to vomit rising once again. The corpse of an imp lays on the ground, the knight stands over it, sword red from its blood. More bug noises serenade us from the forest. The campfire slowly reveals a dozen or more figures, small, almost child-like, but more dangerous by far. They break into a sprint as the knight yells.

“Form up! We need to kill them!” The other people at the campfire go for their weapons, and mages get ready to cast spells. Then the red demons arrive and the fighting begins in earnest.

My eyes dart around, trying to find Percy, and I do, he’s safe for the moment. Then, one of the creatures is on top of me, and my hand shoots out to burn the thing when the memory of a dying bear flashes before my eyes, and I freeze. A sword cuts the demon right before it reaches me. I mumble a word of thanks at the knight.

“What are you doing! You’re a mage right! Then fight!” he yells at me, then he’s gone, off to slice more creatures. Once again feeling like I’m going to throw up, I try to gather my wits. The red things are scattered around the campfire, the knight is killing them easily enough but there are too many for him to deal with alone, he takes too long to reach them and they’re too nimble.

Madam Barrow’s words ring in my ears, replacing the sound of screams. Her simple answer to my inner turmoil, earnest gratitude, and the reminder that it was us or them. I steel myself, then I let loose.

Dashing seats and food, I try to reach as many imps as I can, they’re easy to kill but they’ve started to catch on. They’re avoiding me now, and it takes that much longer to get to them. The mage that lead the damn things to us is also useless, too shocked about some demons dying and now he’s frozen in shock.

My irritation distracts me and my otherwise clean slice goes awry, I hit a stone instead of my target and the impact numbs my hand. A sharp pain flares up from my leg and I spot one of the infernal monsters biting me. Teeth cutting straight through my chainmail. With a kick, it’s gone, but it’s still alive and I can’t afford for any of them to remain that way. The Order will have my hide if these people tell them about this mess.

I stop for a moment to catch my breath, fighting in armor is heavy and exhausting business; then the campfire explodes. Orbs of flame splatter outwards, I raise my arms in defense but the burning ball swerves around me, only to clock an imp straight in the head. The heat kills it instantly. I hear it before I can see it, the clamor dying down, corpses are strewn throughout the former dining area. Imps, most of them with their heads melted off. In the corner sits a youth, his hair looks almost blonde from the torchlight, but when I blink to clear my eyes it’s firmly brown again. Fatigue must be playing tricks on me, but I need to verify what I just saw.