Chapter 1
It was finally spring, and the white marble walls of the temple of Marfa shone in the sunlight. Here and there, in the patches of brown earth no longer blanketed by snow, yellow-green blades of grass were beginning to show, and yellow wildflowers were growing next to the main road leading from the temple to the center of town.
Tarba was the northernmost village on the island of Lodoss. It was a small town, counting perhaps as many as one hundred residents, on a small plain surrounded by the White Dragon Mountains. Due to the cold created by the gathering of many ice spirits, spring came later there than elsewhere.
Aside from the dwarven community known as the Kingdom of Stone and the largest temple to Marfa, the goddess of the earth, in all of Lodoss, the foothills around this small village were completely covered by an evergreen forest. The villagers’ livelihoods came chiefly from the forest and from trading with the dwarves, but the money brought by pilgrims was also an important source of income for them.
As spring came and the snow blocking the roads melted, young people would come from all over Lodoss to seek the blessing of Marfa, who was also the goddess of marriage.
For Neese, the head priestess, that signaled the arrival of a busy season.
“You mean you’re going on a journey?”
Neese had received a visitor in her room inside the temple. She was wearing the white, flowing robe of a priestess of Marfa, with Marfa’s symbol embroidered in green on the left side of the chest. Her fifty-plus years of age showed in the deep wrinkles riven into her face. However, even sitting in her chair, her back was straight, and she didn’t seem frail in the least. She exuded so much vitality that people would turn their heads to look at her as they passed.
“Yes, I am taking a trip.” Neese’s visitor replied brusquely. He was short, about half the height of a full-grown human. From his disproportionately large face there grew a thick gray beard. The pointed end hung down over his green-clad stomach, swaying with each word.
The visitor was a dwarf. What else could he be, with a physique like that! The light brown eyes in his snow-tanned face met Neese’s own.
“Why?” Neese stood up from her chair and knelt near the dwarf.
“Do I need a reason? I’m leaving because I want to leave. That’s all.” In his brusque manner of speaking, his stubbornness, so typical for a dwarf, shone through. The same stubborn nature gave this seemingly clumsy mountain people their masterful craftsmanship. They could turn raw ore and rocks into the finest of gems or handcrafted goods.
Neese knew this dwarf’s nature well. Once he got started, there was no way of changing his mind.
“If you’re worrying about Leylia, you’re wasting your energy. I’ve already given up on her.”
As she said that, a grimace flashed across her face and was gone. The only time her years seemed to weigh heavily on her was when the subject of her daughter Leylia came up.
Leylia had disappeared seven years earlier. Seven years ago, in the spring, someone had broken into the temple while Neese was at the dwarven mine, healing Ghim, who had received a life-threatening injury in a mining accident. There were signs of a struggle - it seemed Leylia had fought with the intruder, but ultimately succumbed and was kidnapped.
Neese was greatly saddened by her daughter’s disappearance, but Ghim the dwarf suffered an even greater hurt. From that time forward, he made constant trips to and from the temple, helping Neese in any way he could.
Ghim met Neese’s remark with silence. The dwarf did not lie — instead he refused to answer. Neese gave a little smile.
“Ghim, you know that getting hurt in that accident was in no way your fault. Why would someone breaking into the temple be your responsibility? Even to the goddess Marfa, it was an unforeseeable fate.”
The dwarf did not respond.
Neese gently placed her right hand on Ghim’s arm and gazed into his eyes.
“I have asked Marfa about her fate any number of times. Is she alive, is she dead? Where is she?” Saying this, Neese remembered the goddess’ words, the same response, repeated each time.
“And how did Marfa respond?” Ghim asked quietly.
“With a strange riddle. ‘She lives, but does not exist.’ Those were the goddess’ words.”
Ghim gazed at Neese’s sorrowful face. He had known her since his childhood. She was the kind of woman who had hidden depths of strength and kindness. Before Leylia’s disappearance, he had never seen her face clouded with sadness. Even knowing that he was not responsible for Leylia’s disappearance, Ghim felt obligated to look for her. He knew the pain in Neese’s heart and he shared it, so much so that he could no longer stand to live peacefully in his cave.
“I’m no good at thinking, so I can’t help you with that riddle. But I am strong. I’ve been training so that I can drag your missing daughter back.”
In spite of their brusqueness, dwarves were a kindhearted people. Loving justice more than anyone, they believed in their ability to surmount any obstacle.
Neese remained silent for a moment. Then she shook her head and opened her mouth as though to say something before closing it again. Changing her mind, she closed her eyes, nodded three times and spoke.
“Thank you, Ghim. In that case, please bring my daughter back.”
Hearing Neese’s words, Ghim narrowed his eyes.
“Leave it to me. I will bring her back without fail. Then the goddess’ mysterious riddle will be solved,” replied the dwarf, raising his voice a little.
Neese pulled the dwarf in and hugged him tightly with her thin arms.
“So, when will you leave Tarba?”
“Hm. Once I pass by my house, I plan to leave right away.”
“Traveling is dangerous. But it’s not like it was when I once went on a journey. Even so, you can never be too careful. I will pray to Marfa for your safety.”
When Neese was young, she too had traveled. But it was not for fun - no, it was a quest. It was a dark era, when many demons, once sealed in the Labyrinth of the Deep in southwestern Lodoss, had escaped and sown death and destruction across the island. In order to fight these demons, Neese had had no choice but to take sword in hand and set out across Lodoss. Having sealed away the demons after a terrible battle, she became known as one of the Six Heroes. But she did not take pride in that name.
“Thank you, ô priestess of Marfa. Please pray in my stead that I solve the riddle and bring you your daughter safe and sound, for I am not a praying man.”
“Where are you headed?”
“I’ll go to Zaxon first. There’s no other road, and in any case my acquaintance Slayn lives there. Beyond that, I have no plans. I’ll follow the road where it takes me.”
Ghim the dwarven craftsman set off on his journey to the south only a few hours later. His path was covered by strangely gloomy gray clouds.
There once was an island by the name of Lodoss.
It was a large island located to the south of the continent of Alecrast. To get to the island from Alecrast would take about twenty days by ship. Due to this distance, there was little contact between the continent and the island of Lodoss. It would be fair to say that the only real contact the people of Lodoss had with the continent was the trade carried out by the galleys of the free city of Raiden, located in the northwestern part of the island.
Among the people of the continent, there were those who called Lodoss “The Cursed Island”. Truly, on Lodoss there were many places that one could not help but consider cursed. The Forest of No Return, the Desert of Wind and Fire, and the Dark Island, Marmo. In underground labyrinths throughout the land, horrible monsters slithered, and the teachings of the dark god Falaris still held sway.
Thirty years earlier, powerful demons had broken the seal of the demon palace known as the Deep Labyrinth, enveloping all of Lodoss in the depths of terror.
The fight against the demons lasted three years but in the end, the humans, dwarves, and elves renewed the seal, trapping the demons once again. After thirty years, even the scars left by this battle had healed, and life had returned to a boring but peaceful rhythm. But tales of this incident reached as far as Alecrast, confirming the rumors that Lodoss was cursed. To the residents of Lodoss, their island’s reputation was a trifling matter - they were too busy with the important matters of their day-to-day lives to care.
On Lodoss, several kingdoms flourished.
The biggest of these was the mountain kingdom of Moss in the southwestern part of the island. The ancient gold dragon Mycen, known as the Dragon Lord, still lived there, and had become the patron diety and the symbol of the kingdom.
In the center of the island was the Holy Kingdom, Valis.It was a peaceful kingdom ruled by one of the Six Heroes who had shut the demons inside the Deep Labyrinth, King Fahn. The followers of the supreme diety Phalis being numerous, his temples were of course powerful in Valis. Since the king himself was crowned on the authority of the temple, the strict laws of Phalis were enforced throughout the land.
The desert beyond Valis had recently become the kingdom of Flaim after a heated battle with the desert tribesmen. Lead by the Mercenary King, Kashue, who had the reputation of a great man, and his knights, it was a lively young country.
Kanon, the country in the southeast, was lead by a scholarly king. There, the land was bountiful, and it was famed for its riches.
The island to the south, Marmo, was also known as the Dark Island. In addition to great numbers of evil goblins, most of the criminals exiled from the main island of Lodoss took refuge on Marmo. Twenty years earlier, a soldier calling himself Emperor Beld had conquered the island and made it into an empire. Of course, many were those who disobeyed the new emperor, and the flames of insurrection blazed across the island on multiple occasions. But each time, Beld personally lead his troops, ruthlessly crushing the rebels. In recent years, Marmo had enjoyed a sort of peace, though perhaps only in appearance.
Finally, in the northeastern part of the island was Alania, the oldest of Lodoss’ kingdoms, known for its vibrant culture. Its cobblestone streets and the marble castle built by dwarves were the pride of its people.
In the kingdom of Alania, there was a town called Zaxon. It was a small town situated in the middle of a peninsula to the north of Alania’s capital city, Alan. Though it was less than a ten days’ journey from Alan, it was a simple village, in contrast to that great city.
The people of Zaxon were faced with a great problem.
“I said I would defeat them!”
The bang of a fist on a table resounded through the only tavern in Zaxon. The wooden cup that had been sitting on the table fell over, spilling its contents.
About thirty villagers were assembled in the tavern. A young man was standing at a table in the front, and the others were sitting here and there in a variety of chairs. The young many was fully clad in plate armor, with a bastard sword hanging at his waist. The sword had a long hilt so that it could be used two-handed if necessary. Since he also bore a thick shield on his back, if he’d had a helmet he would have been the perfect picture of a knight. But on his breast, instead of the insignia of some king or lord, his armor bore only a few deep scratches.
“Listen up, Parn.” The village chief spoke to the young man glaring at him as though rebuking a child. “Even if you go by yourself, it won’t solve anything. Yes, the enemy is just a band of goblins, but they are numerous. No matter how much confidence you have in your prowess, there is no way you can defeat so many of them.”
Parn scowled at him, not hiding his frustration. This whole time, the villagers and chief had kept repeating the same arguments. Their stubbornness and cowardice knew no bounds.
“That is exactly why I came to you for help! As you say, Eto and I have little chance against such a large band of goblins on our own. But those of us assembled here can fight! If we show fear before a mere band of goblins, we will bring shame upon our village!”
Parn looked around the group. Everyone avoided his gaze, and he waited patiently for someone, anyone, to lift their head and look him in the eye.
The village’s problem was, of course, goblins. As soon as the snow had melted, a band about twenty of them had set up residence in a nearby cave. It had been three months since they moved in, but they had yet to make any move against the village. Knowing the evil nature of goblins, though, it would not be long before they would visit some calamity upon their neighbors.
Parn had called together all those villagers who seemed fit to fight in the hopes of defeating the goblins. Thirty villagers ought to have a clear advantage over only twenty goblins. But he had not counted on their reaction…
“Nothing bad has happened yet. Maybe nothing will ever happen. Why should we go seeking trouble, and give them a reason to fight us? And if anything goes wrong, they will surely take the opportunity to attack the village as well,” murmured one of the villagers. Parn looked at him in despair. It was Zamjee the hunter. Parn had been counting on his prowess as an archer most of all.
“Zamjee, that’s a dangerous idea. You know as well as I how awful the goblins are. If we wait until the village is in danger, it will be too late. But if we beat them now, the danger will be gone.”
As Parn said, he knew of the evil of goblins. Like elves, they were fae, but in the distant past they had entered the service of the god of darkness and their forms had become twisted and ugly.
“But-” Lyott, the woodcutter, looked up and raised his voice in protest. He was the strongest man in the village. Other villagers spoke up as well, but none of them agreed with Parn.
Given into his anger, Parn struck the table again. This time the table itself gave a jolt and fell over, landing on the floor with a loud bang.
“My father fought against thirty bandits! Are you saying that you don’t have even a tenth of his courage?”
“I’ve heard that story before. Didn’t your father abandon his post as a knight, meet those bandits while running away, and get himself killed?” Mort, the owner of the general store, said this in a sarcastic voice. Along with old Jet, the owner of the tavern, he was considered one of the most knowledgeable people in town.
All the blood drained from Parn’s face. “My father… don’t you dare insult my father!”
“I’m just repeating the rumors. If those rumors are false, why has the coat of arms of the Holy Knights been scratched off of your armor? Why did your mother have to leave Valis for a tiny village like this?”
Parn put his hand on the hilt of his sword. The urge to draw it and cut Mort’s head off boiled up from deep inside him. But taking arms against a civilian would have been an act of evil.
“I understand,” he muttered weakly, releasing his grip on his sword, “if that’s how it is, me and Eto will take care of it.”
Parn strode out of the room, flinging the tavern door open in front of him. Until the sound of his armor had faded, the villagers stayed in their seats, hanging their heads.
“He can’t seriously intend to go there with just Eto for company,” whispered Lyott to his neighbor, Mort.
“Of course not! Even he wouldn’t do such a reckless thing…” Mort said, as though trying to convince himself. The villagers were familiar with Parn’s character. If it was in the name of justice, he would rush into danger without a care in the world.
The village chief listened to this exchange for a moment, then quietly exited through the doors Parn had flung open and walked to a house just outside the village.
Parn returned to his house and opened the door. His heavy strides made the floor squeak, and the spikes on his boots dug new scratches into the wooden floor.
“How was it, Parn?” asked a voice from inside the room.
“Awful,” said Parn to the man standing in the room. It was a priest. He was wearing a bleached white cotton robe with a bright blue sash around the waist. The amulet hanging from his neck bore the symbol of Phalis.
The priest, Eto, was Parn’s childhood friend. Both of them had lost their parents at a young age, and this had drawn them together. Eto’s personality was the opposite of Parn’s - he showed little emotion and always acted with discretion and prudence. But both of them had the conviction to see their goals through to the end, regardless of the obstacles in their way.
Listening to Parn’s speach, Eto took his amulet in one hand and chanted the name of Phalis in a low voice.
“Well, it can’t be helped. The villagers haven’t gotten themselves mixed up in this, and even in the last war against the demons, this country was the only one that remained neutral.”
“But I can’t fight twenty goblins all on my own!” Parn sat down at the table in the center of the room, pulled his leather waterskin off of his back, and drank the contents in one gulp. Once he had finished, he let out a great sigh and dropped the waterskin on the table.
“That said, we cannot afford to leave the goblins alone. Everything is fine for the moment, but we don’t know when they might pose a threat to the village.” Placing his hand lightly on his amulet, Eto had taken the tone he used to convey the teachings of Phalis to the villagers. After four years of religious studies in Alania’s temple of Phalis, Eto had finally been ordained a priest and returned home to Zaxon quite recently. He was not yet permitted to head up his own temple, but merely to teach at the side of the road or in meeting-houses.
“But can the two of us really do it? There are twenty of them! That’s ten times as many!”
Perhaps an experienced warrior could have defeated ten, twenty, or even thirty goblins. But it would be years before Parn could hope to reach that level.
“There might be a way.” Eto stood stock-still, deep in thought. His chin sunk into his chest, his eyes stared at nothing.
Since Parn had known Eto for most of his life, he knew better than to interrupt him when he was lost in thought. In any case, as a warrior, if he could train his body to cut down his enemies, that was enough.
“I don’t think this is a very good strategy but…” Eto lifted his head and turned to face Parn.
Parn grinned. “You’ve made up your mind? Good, let’s go.”
Slayn Starseeker’s house was at the far northern edge of Zaxon. He had moved there two years earlier, and started teaching the villagers to read and write the alphabet, becoming a well-loved teacher.
But he also had a reputation for being odd. In his little house there were piles of books everywhere, and many cabinets full of carefully labeled and organized bottles containing dried herbs and insects. He also had the habit of staring up at the sky late at night, muttering to himself. For those reasons, few dared to approach his house, but on this day, not one but two visitors stopped in.
Philmar, the village chief, was of course surprised to see another visitor, but his shock doubled when he realized that visitor was no human, but rather a dwarf. The aforementioned dwarf awkwardly introduced himself as Ghim. At that moment, Slayn was opening a bottle of ale for Ghim.
Philmar told Slayn everything — that Parn and Eto were headed off to fight the goblins. That none of the villagers wanted to help them. He asked Slayn to go save the two youngsters.
“Goblins!?!”
The one who had yelled this in anger was not Slayn, but rather Ghim.
“How many are they? Did those dirty bandits come here to get their heads cut off by my battleaxe?”
The dwarf was wearing a full suit of chain mail and carried a huge double-edged battleaxe. With his sturdy helmet decorated on both sides with horns, he looked more like a warrior ready to charge into battle than a traveler.
“Goblins and dwarves have been fighting since time immemorial,” said Slayn by way of explanation to Philmar, whose jaw had dropped at the dwarf’s sudden transformation. Since hearing the word “goblin,” Ghim had gone stock-still, as though turned into a statue.
“That’s right, they’re nothing but a band of hateful thieves! Without even knowing what to do with them, they steal the beautiful gems and metal from under the earth. Since the dawn of time, us dwarves have cut off as many of their heads as there are stars in the sky, but the bastards breed like rabbits.”
“Well you know, there are infinite numbers of stars in the sky,” said Slayn softly to the dwarf. “Fortunately, there are only about twenty of them around here. But Parn and Eto can’t face that many. Did they really go on their own?”
Seeing the chief nod, Slayn realized that it was indeed likely that Parn would do such a thing. But though Slayn had only met him on his return from training, Slayn had taken Eto for a more level-headed fellow.
“Young people are no good at thinking logically, after all,” he muttered to himself. “Well, I can’t just stand by and let two such promising youngsters die. I ought to be able to take care of twenty goblins with my magic.”
“And my axe.” Ghim picked his battleaxe up off of the table and fastened it to his back.
“You`ll go?” Hope written on his face, the chief bowed deeply to Slayn.
“I, too, live in this village. Do not worry about it.”
Slayn stood as well and walked to the back of the room, where he picked up a a wooden staff. It was a strange, twisted staff, with writing in a mysterious language scratched into its surface. But of the villagers, only Philmar recognized it. It was a Sage’s Staff only those certified as mages by the Academy of Sages were permitted to own. The owner of such a staff could easily accomplish great acts of magic. That is why, when no villager answered Parn’s call, Philmar had thought that Slayn might be able to help. Of course, he had not counted on finding a goblin-hating dwarf as well…
“Knowing Parn, he must have dashed off with minimal preparation. If we don’t hurry, we might be too late. Let’s go.”
Slayn pulled a single hefty tome out of its disorderly pile. On its cover, strange words were printed in gold. To those able to decipher ancient runes, the title read, “Slayn Starseeker’s Spell Book.”
About three hours east of Zaxon, a small cave mouth could be seen in a stone knoll. Once, a cheerful family of little people had lived there, but twenty years earlier they had moved and the cave had become a shelter for hunters. Children had also found it a wonderful playground, and even Parn and Eto used to play there. But since the goblins moved in, no one else had dared approach it.
Emerging from the forest and continuing along the stone path, Parn and Eto surveyed the disorderly scene in front of them. Huge boulders were scattered here and there, offering ideal hiding places where the goblins were unlikely to find them. Since goblins were creatures of darkness, they hated the midday sun above all else. The nocturnal creatures that they were, they ought to be fast asleep inside the cave during the day.
That was, of course, the reason Parn and Eto had decided to attack during the day. As long as the sun shone in the sky, Phalis’ power to destroy the darkness was at its strongest and the races of light had the advantage. Soaking up the spring sunlight, Eto and Parn closed in on the goblin den.
Eto’s strategy was a simple one First, shoot the sentinels with bow and arrow. Then light some saplings on fire at the entrance to the cave in order to smoke out the goblins. If all went well, they would come dash out in a disorderly manner, reducing their ability to fight. They would pick off as many as possible from a distance, then Parn would fight the remaining goblins with his sword and Eto would use his mace. If they put their backs to the hill so as not to be surrounded, they would probably prevail against the goblins, weakened by sunlight as they would be.
Parn was no fond of archery, but given the goblins’ number, he had reluctantly agreed. As soon as they had decided on a strategy, Parn was as cheerful as if their victory had been assured, but Eto, who had come up with the plan, was still nervous. Watching Parn unsheath his bastard sword with a confident expression on his face, Eto grasped his amulet and uttered a brief prayer to Phalis.
When they arrived at the cave, seeing that his worries had been realized, Eto reflexively looked up at the sky. Parn was also chewing on his lip while looking at the two ugly goblins in front of them. Their reddish-brown skin partially covered by dirty rags wrapped around them, they wore shoddily-made shortswords hanging from the straw ropes they were using as belts. They bore wooden shields in their left hands and stood with their backs hunched, squinting into the sunlight. They looked somewhat like humans, but were about half as tall, and their bare limbs were thin and knobby, like gnarled wood. They had no hair at all, and their eyes and ears seemed too big for their faces. Their noses were so flat that they looked like little more than two holes, and their mouths formed a wide gash in their faces, revealing their yellowed canines and blood-red tongues.
Not seeing Parn and Eto hiding in the shade of the rocks, the goblins were fidgeting, as though bored.
“Looks like we need to change our plan,” said Eto. They had only expected one watchman. If there had only been one, they would have been able to take him out in one go, with both Parn’s bow and Eto’s sling. But that plan had crumbled. If one of them missed his target, the rest of the plan would fail as well.
His uncertainty showing, Eto took his sling out of his pack and cast about for stones to throw.
“I’ll aim for the one on the right, you shoot the left one.” Parn pulled his bow off of his shoulder and strung it. He removed two oak arrows with falcon feather flights from his quiver and put them to the string.
Eto put a stone in his sling and slowly began to swing it around. Parn pulled back his bowstring.
“Now!”
As soon as he was sure of his aim, Eto gave the signal and fired. The arrow and the stone flew towards the watchmen at the same time.
“Gah!”
Both the arrow and the stone hit their targets and the two goblins wobbled on their feet. One of them crumpled to the ground.
But Eto saw what had happened. His stone had hit one goblin on the head, but Parn’s arrow had missed the other goblin’s vital spot and hit its shoulder instead. It was still alive!
Kashunk!
Parn shot the remaining goblin in its misshapen belly. Bright red blood gushed from the wound as it collapsed to the ground.
“Well, we’ve got no choice. We’ll just have to kill them one by one.”
With a great clanking noise, Parn and Eto shot out of the shadows of the rock in unison. Parn draw his bastard sword and lifted it up as though aiming for the sun. For a moment, light flashed along the blade.
While rehearsing his plan, Eto pulled two flasks filled with oil from his pocket. He threw them towards the cave mouth. They broke with a loud crack, splashing their contents around.
But by the time he got out his flint, he knew he wouldn’t make it in time.
Disgusting creatures were pouring out of the cave.
Luckily, a number of goblins slipped on the oil covering the ground around the entrance. One of them fell down the rock face with a strange grunt, hit its head, and stopped moving.
“Die, you bastards!” Parn’s yell echoed.
“Parn, let’s put our backs to the rock so they can’t surround us.”
Eto stopped Parn from charging head-first into the group of goblins and backed up against the boulder where they had hidden. Parn followed his example.
“Careful! They poison their blades!”
Since they had their backs to the rock, there was no risk of being surrounded, but they still had to fight against no less than twenty enemies. With many of them all around, it was too late for Parn and Eto to run. The fight would go on until they either collapsed or defeated all the goblins.
Parn was of course skillfully wielding his sword and shield like a true warrior. While blocking one attack with his shield, he struck out at another enemy with his sword. The goblin injured by his attack dropped like a rock, blood spurting from its shoulder. Parn finished it off with a blow to the back. It was nothing compared to what a veteran soldier might have done, but it was good enough for fighting goblins. Eto, too, had received combat training at the temple of Phalis. He could hold his own with mace and shield. And Eto moved faster than Parn. Dodging a goblin’s attack with deft footwork, he put all his power into a strike of his mace.
The sharp sounds on metal on metal and the dull sound of metal smashing into flesh filled the air. The goblins went down one by one under the blows of the two young men.
But there was a limit. Eto, inexperienced in combat as he was, began to tire, his breath growing ragged and his hands shaking.
When he noticed Eto’s fatigue, Parn began to fight more vigorously, in the hopes of finishing it quickly. With wide blows, he attacked the goblins facing Eto as well. Because of this, Parn too began to tire, but his greater combat training gave him more reserves.
Somehow they had reduced the goblins to half their original numbers. The foul stench of ten bloodied goblin corpses floated in the air. But the remaining goblins climbed over their comrade’s corpses and fought with a renewed determination, as though their anger had overcome their fear. Goblins who felt sure of winning were fearsome enemies.
“I guess this is it,” muttered Parn.
Even he was weakening. Seeing Eto burst into a coughing fit and lean weakly against the rock, Parn made up his mind.
He threw down his shield, held his bastard sword in both hands, and leaned forward. To motivate himself, he let out a strange yell.
“Ooo!”
And then he began.
He rammed into the two goblins trying to deal a finishing blow to the weakened Eto and on into a clump of four goblins, swinging his sword wildly like a berserker.
I wonder if you can call this an honorable death? Parn thought as he swung his sword. Dying in battle ought to be a good death for a warrior. But when his own father had met his end in a desperate battle against bandits when Parn was little, it had been called a dishonorable death, and he and his mother had been forced to flee Valis. Parn’s mother had died in an epidemic when he was ten. Since then, Parn had lived by hunting in the forest and helping in the fields. At sixteen he had donned his father’s armor and signed on as a mercenary in Flaim, where he fought the desert tribes for two years. Afterward, he had returned to the village, where he helped defend the village, all while waiting for another chance to sell his services as a mercenary.
If he died dishonorably, what meaning was there in his life?
Just then, he felt something hot burn into his left shoulder. The pain shot through his body. A goblin had stabbed him from behind. Blood spurted out and stained his shoulder red.
Enduring the tooth-clenching pain, Parn spun around and cut down the goblin that had injured him. But, fighting in such difficult conditions, Parn lost his balance. As he crumpled under the weight of his armor, he tried to dig his spurs into the ground. Parn was helpless as he struck the ground with a great clanging and banging. Sparks flew where the metal hit the rock.
Another goblin leapt forward, taking advantage of the moment. Parn felt pain shoot through his left thigh. He saw that a goblin had thrust its short sword into his thigh and was trying to pull it out. As the goblin yanked on the sword, waves of pain washed over Parn. When he thought the pain had passed, he felt himself lose control over his muscles. The poison on the blade was starting to take effect.
Parn desperately tried to stand, but he no longer had the energy. As he gave in to his intense fatigue, Parn turned his head to see how Eto was doing. As he did so, the immense blue sky filled his gaze. The sight of it, with not one cloud in view, seemed to fill Parn with a strange satisfaction. Looking up at the sky, he let go of his sword and lay spread-eagled on the ground.
Parn watched the disgusting creatures plunge their swords towards his chest as though it was happening to someone else.
It was right then! An arrow sprouted from the chest of the goblin that was trying to kill him. With a sort of sigh the goblin collapsed, and Parn could hear another voice call out.
It was a language Parn had never heard before.
Along with that voice, the air seemed to thicken, and the world seemed to go dark as Parn passed out. As he lost consciousness, something bright flashed through his mind.
I see, that’s how it is… Dad! Parn shouted inside his heart.
And then the darkness took him.
“Well, it looks like we made it,” muttered Slayn as he watched Ghim finish off the goblin with a crossbow. As the other goblins turned to look, Slayn uttered a few words in the ancient runic tongue.
“Ô peaceful airs that bring sleep.”
While reciting the spell, Slayn slowly waved his staff in the air. Three of the goblin reinforcements suddenly fell as though the life had fled from their bodies. Only two were left.
Ghim switched from his crossbow to his axe and jumped into the fray. Victory was decided in an instant. The goblin’s head flew through the air, its face frozen in shock. The one remaining goblin turned to run, but Ghim cut it in half. The goblin’s upper body fell to the ground with a thud, while the legs staggered unsteadily forward before collapsing in turn. The blood gushing from the wound stained the ground red.
“Please finish off the sleeping goblins.”
While saying this, Slayn carefully surveyed his surroundings. He couldn’t see a single goblin that was still moving.
Slayn faced the cave and concentrated. Then he chanted briefly in the ancient tongue. Using magic to magnify his perceptions, he cast mental feelers into the cave. He tasted the air in the cave, seeking out any remaining goblins. When his mind had touched the back wall of the cave, Slayn stopped chanting.
“It would seem the coast is clear,” Slayn said happily to Ghim, who was busy cutting goblin necks.
“I’m all done here too. I made sure all of them are dead.”
Slayn nodded. Then he walked over to Parn, who was still lying on the ground, and touched his neck. Something warm seeped onto his hand.
He’s alive, but badly wounded. Slayn called Ghim over in a loud voice. “Help me out over here! If we don’t hurry and get him home, it could be too late!”
Slayn and Ghim took the injured Parn back to his house and laid him to sleep on his bed. Upon examination, Parn’s wounds were deeper than they had appeared. Eto had no visible injuries, but Parn had injuries on his shoulder and leg as well as a head wound of unknown origin, the wound on his shoulder being the most dangerous. As soon as Eto had recovered from his fatigue, he demonstrated his priestly power by closing Parn’s wounds. But the poison coating the goblins’ blades had already spread throughout Parn’s body.
Though his wounds had closed, it seemed he would not yet recover from his injuries. He tossed and turned in a fevered sleep. Eto and Slayn tried every remedy they could think of, but in the end, all they could do was trust in Parn’s strength.
Three days after the battle, Parn’s fever peaked. It seemed as though his whole body was burning, and no matter how often Eto went to get water from the stream, it was never enough to cool Parn off.
Whether Eto’s efforts finally paid off, or Parn’s inner strength was enough to purge the poisons, on the following morning his fever broke and he slipped into a quiet sleep. That evening, he awoke at long last.
Once he had awoken, Parn’s recovery was rapid. Even so, it took him another three days before he was able to get out of bed.
So it was that one evening, Parn and Eto called on Slayn while he was wrestling with yet another arcane text.
“Oh, it’s you lot.”
Ghim’s brusque voice came from the entryway. While seeking news of Leylia, he was staying with Slayn.
Slayn had spread ancient texts across his desk and was chanting unintelligible words.
When he reached the entrance, Parn and Eto were waiting respectfully. Whether Ghim was vigorously cheering him on or insulting him, Parn consistently leaned down to listen to Ghim.
“Well, it would seem you’ve recovered.” Seeing the improvement in Parn’s complexion, Slayn nodded as if in approval. He still looked a little tired, but color had returned to his cheeks, and his eyes shone with a youthful radiance.
“I’ve been a bother to you.” Parn bowed his head deeply.
“If you want to thank anyone, you should thank your friend over there. If he hadn’t nursed you that faithfully, you might have died, no matter how strong your life force.”
As he spoke, Slayn realized that something was bothering Parn.
“I doubt you came here just to thank us. Please come in. It’s small, so please pardon the mess.”
“Thanks.” Parn bowed as he entered.
As Slayn had said, the room was small and crammed full of odds and ends. With four men inside, it was positively claustrophobic. What’s more, since there weren’t enough chairs, Eto and Ghim had to sit on the bed.
“It is as you say.” Though he was itching to get the words out, Parn was having trouble, but on Slayn’s urging he spoke. “I think I want to set out on a journey. I never intended to spend my whole life in this village, and we were made a laughingstock by those goblins. But for some reason everyone’s treating me like a hero. It pains me to get called a hero when I cannot claim the credit for our victory. You understand, right?”
“You know, whatever the result, your actions could truly be called heroic. There’s no need to be humble.”
But Parn was not the kind of man who could be satisfied with such words.
“There are many equally… no, even more wicked creatures than those goblins in the world. But I don’t have the power to face down such evil. All the more reason to leave. And Eto agrees with me as well. Not only would companions hearten me on my journey, we would be able to confidently face the dangers in our path.”
Slayn listened intently to Parn’s speech.
“So, you want to travel and get stronger. I understand that. What I do not understand is how you want me to help.”
“In short… in short, I would like you to accompany me in my travels. You’re a mage. Your magical powers would serve us well against the dangers we would face. And rumor has it that here in Lodoss there are any number of monsters that can only be defeated with magic. What do you think, Slayn? Would you oblige us by joining us in our travels?”
“Hmm.” Slayn pondered this, nodding to himself.
“That’s a good idea. I second it. I plan to leave this town to wander soon. If this mage comes too, he can earn our bread with his craft.” Ghim let out a deep belly laugh.
Slayn met the gaze of the young man who was staring him in the eye. He’d seen that look before.
His friend had proposed that they defeat the thieves’ Guild of Alan. Even with Slayn’s magical powers, the task was too great.
Slayn had refused his request. He had tried to stop his overenthusiastic friend. But he hadn’t been able to change his mind. Slayn had even given him his own invisibility ring. But three days later, in the night, Slayn’s friend was stabbed with a poisoned blade and was never seen again. After that, Slayn heard that the widely feared Guildmaster had been killed and replaced by one who forbade the use of force. Even so, Slayn believed he had made a mistake. Shouldn’t be have stopped his friend on that last night when he had seen him alive? Slayn had never forgotten the sincerity in his friend’s gaze. And now another youth turned that same gaze on him. He was about to set out on a journey he did not understand, fighting something unknown. Those eyes were saying, “follow me.”
Slayn simply said, “That’s a dangerous idea.”
“What do you mean?” asked Parn, his expression perplexed.
Are the gods giving me a chance to make a different choice this time? Slayn wondered if the god of knowledge, Rahda, that he worshipped, might be at work.
Slayn closed his eyes for a moment, maintaining his silence, but at length he spoke in a quiet, hoarse voice.
“I understand. I will accompany you. Ghim has his own reasons to want to travel as well.”
Opening his eyes, Slayn caught a glimpse of Parn exchanging a look with Ghim.
“Mmm,” grunted Ghim, and turned away from Slayn.
“But let’s hope there’s no danger. I’m a bit of a wimp, you see.”
Ghim was unable to hold back any longer, and roared with laughter. Eto and Parn merely looked at each other, surprised to have convinced Slayn so easily.
Chapter 1
It was finally spring, and the white marble walls of the temple of Marfa shone in the sunlight. Here and there, in the patches of brown earth no longer blanketed by snow, yellow-green blades of grass were beginning to show, and yellow wildflowers were growing next to the main road leading from the temple to the center of town.
Tarba was the northernmost village on the island of Lodoss. It was a small town, counting perhaps as many as one hundred residents, on a small plain surrounded by the White Dragon Mountains. Due to the cold created by the gathering of many ice spirits, spring came later there than elsewhere.
Aside from the dwarven community known as the Kingdom of Stone and the largest temple to Marfa, the goddess of the earth, in all of Lodoss, the foothills around this small village were completely covered by an evergreen forest. The villagers’ livelihoods came chiefly from the forest and from trading with the dwarves, but the money brought by pilgrims was also an important source of income for them.
As spring came and the snow blocking the roads melted, young people would come from all over Lodoss to seek the blessing of Marfa, who was also the goddess of marriage.
For Neese, the head priestess, that signaled the arrival of a busy season.
“You mean you’re going on a journey?”
Neese had received a visitor in her room inside the temple. She was wearing the white, flowing robe of a priestess of Marfa, with Marfa’s symbol embroidered in green on the left side of the chest. Her fifty-plus years of age showed in the deep wrinkles riven into her face. However, even sitting in her chair, her back was straight, and she didn’t seem frail in the least. She exuded so much vitality that people would turn their heads to look at her as they passed.
“Yes, I am taking a trip.” Neese’s visitor replied brusquely. He was short, about half the height of a full-grown human. From his disproportionately large face there grew a thick gray beard. The pointed end hung down over his green-clad stomach, swaying with each word.
The visitor was a dwarf. What else could he be, with a physique like that! The light brown eyes in his snow-tanned face met Neese’s own.
“Why?” Neese stood up from her chair and knelt near the dwarf.
“Do I need a reason? I’m leaving because I want to leave. That’s all.” In his brusque manner of speaking, his stubbornness, so typical for a dwarf, shone through. The same stubborn nature gave this seemingly clumsy mountain people their masterful craftsmanship. They could turn raw ore and rocks into the finest of gems or handcrafted goods.
Neese knew this dwarf’s nature well. Once he got started, there was no way of changing his mind.
“If you’re worrying about Leylia, you’re wasting your energy. I’ve already given up on her.”
As she said that, a grimace flashed across her face and was gone. The only time her years seemed to weigh heavily on her was when the subject of her daughter Leylia came up.
Leylia had disappeared seven years earlier. Seven years ago, in the spring, someone had broken into the temple while Neese was at the dwarven mine, healing Ghim, who had received a life-threatening injury in a mining accident. There were signs of a struggle - it seemed Leylia had fought with the intruder, but ultimately succumbed and was kidnapped.
Neese was greatly saddened by her daughter’s disappearance, but Ghim the dwarf suffered an even greater hurt. From that time forward, he made constant trips to and from the temple, helping Neese in any way he could.
Ghim met Neese’s remark with silence. The dwarf did not lie — instead he refused to answer. Neese gave a little smile.
“Ghim, you know that getting hurt in that accident was in no way your fault. Why would someone breaking into the temple be your responsibility? Even to the goddess Marfa, it was an unforeseeable fate.”
The dwarf did not respond.
Neese gently placed her right hand on Ghim’s arm and gazed into his eyes.
“I have asked Marfa about her fate any number of times. Is she alive, is she dead? Where is she?” Saying this, Neese remembered the goddess’ words, the same response, repeated each time.
“And how did Marfa respond?” Ghim asked quietly.
“With a strange riddle. ‘She lives, but does not exist.’ Those were the goddess’ words.”
Ghim gazed at Neese’s sorrowful face. He had known her since his childhood. She was the kind of woman who had hidden depths of strength and kindness. Before Leylia’s disappearance, he had never seen her face clouded with sadness. Even knowing that he was not responsible for Leylia’s disappearance, Ghim felt obligated to look for her. He knew the pain in Neese’s heart and he shared it, so much so that he could no longer stand to live peacefully in his cave.
“I’m no good at thinking, so I can’t help you with that riddle. But I am strong. I’ve been training so that I can drag your missing daughter back.”
In spite of their brusqueness, dwarves were a kindhearted people. Loving justice more than anyone, they believed in their ability to surmount any obstacle.
Neese remained silent for a moment. Then she shook her head and opened her mouth as though to say something before closing it again. Changing her mind, she closed her eyes, nodded three times and spoke.
“Thank you, Ghim. In that case, please bring my daughter back.”
Hearing Neese’s words, Ghim narrowed his eyes.
“Leave it to me. I will bring her back without fail. Then the goddess’ mysterious riddle will be solved,” replied the dwarf, raising his voice a little.
Neese pulled the dwarf in and hugged him tightly with her thin arms.
“So, when will you leave Tarba?”
“Hm. Once I pass by my house, I plan to leave right away.”
“Traveling is dangerous. But it’s not like it was when I once went on a journey. Even so, you can never be too careful. I will pray to Marfa for your safety.”
When Neese was young, she too had traveled. But it was not for fun - no, it was a quest. It was a dark era, when many demons, once sealed in the Labyrinth of the Deep in southwestern Lodoss, had escaped and sown death and destruction across the island. In order to fight these demons, Neese had had no choice but to take sword in hand and set out across Lodoss. Having sealed away the demons after a terrible battle, she became known as one of the Six Heroes. But she did not take pride in that name.
“Thank you, ô priestess of Marfa. Please pray in my stead that I solve the riddle and bring you your daughter safe and sound, for I am not a praying man.”
“Where are you headed?”
“I’ll go to Zaxon first. There’s no other road, and in any case my acquaintance Slayn lives there. Beyond that, I have no plans. I’ll follow the road where it takes me.”
Ghim the dwarven craftsman set off on his journey to the south only a few hours later. His path was covered by strangely gloomy gray clouds.
There once was an island by the name of Lodoss.
It was a large island located to the south of the continent of Alecrast. To get to the island from Alecrast would take about twenty days by ship. Due to this distance, there was little contact between the continent and the island of Lodoss. It would be fair to say that the only real contact the people of Lodoss had with the continent was the trade carried out by the galleys of the free city of Raiden, located in the northwestern part of the island.
Among the people of the continent, there were those who called Lodoss “The Cursed Island”. Truly, on Lodoss there were many places that one could not help but consider cursed. The Forest of No Return, the Desert of Wind and Fire, and the Dark Island, Marmo. In underground labyrinths throughout the land, horrible monsters slithered, and the teachings of the dark god Falaris still held sway.
Thirty years earlier, powerful demons had broken the seal of the demon palace known as the Deep Labyrinth, enveloping all of Lodoss in the depths of terror.
The fight against the demons lasted three years but in the end, the humans, dwarves, and elves renewed the seal, trapping the demons once again. After thirty years, even the scars left by this battle had healed, and life had returned to a boring but peaceful rhythm. But tales of this incident reached as far as Alecrast, confirming the rumors that Lodoss was cursed. To the residents of Lodoss, their island’s reputation was a trifling matter - they were too busy with the important matters of their day-to-day lives to care.
On Lodoss, several kingdoms flourished.
The biggest of these was the mountain kingdom of Moss in the southwestern part of the island. The ancient gold dragon Mycen, known as the Dragon Lord, still lived there, and had become the patron diety and the symbol of the kingdom.
In the center of the island was the Holy Kingdom, Valis.It was a peaceful kingdom ruled by one of the Six Heroes who had shut the demons inside the Deep Labyrinth, King Fahn. The followers of the supreme diety Phalis being numerous, his temples were of course powerful in Valis. Since the king himself was crowned on the authority of the temple, the strict laws of Phalis were enforced throughout the land.
The desert beyond Valis had recently become the kingdom of Flaim after a heated battle with the desert tribesmen. Lead by the Mercenary King, Kashue, who had the reputation of a great man, and his knights, it was a lively young country.
Kanon, the country in the southeast, was lead by a scholarly king. There, the land was bountiful, and it was famed for its riches.
The island to the south, Marmo, was also known as the Dark Island. In addition to great numbers of evil goblins, most of the criminals exiled from the main island of Lodoss took refuge on Marmo. Twenty years earlier, a soldier calling himself Emperor Beld had conquered the island and made it into an empire. Of course, many were those who disobeyed the new emperor, and the flames of insurrection blazed across the island on multiple occasions. But each time, Beld personally lead his troops, ruthlessly crushing the rebels. In recent years, Marmo had enjoyed a sort of peace, though perhaps only in appearance.
Finally, in the northeastern part of the island was Alania, the oldest of Lodoss’ kingdoms, known for its vibrant culture. Its cobblestone streets and the marble castle built by dwarves were the pride of its people.
In the kingdom of Alania, there was a town called Zaxon. It was a small town situated in the middle of a peninsula to the north of Alania’s capital city, Alan. Though it was less than a ten days’ journey from Alan, it was a simple village, in contrast to that great city.
The people of Zaxon were faced with a great problem.
“I said I would defeat them!”
The bang of a fist on a table resounded through the only tavern in Zaxon. The wooden cup that had been sitting on the table fell over, spilling its contents.
About thirty villagers were assembled in the tavern. A young man was standing at a table in the front, and the others were sitting here and there in a variety of chairs. The young many was fully clad in plate armor, with a bastard sword hanging at his waist. The sword had a long hilt so that it could be used two-handed if necessary. Since he also bore a thick shield on his back, if he’d had a helmet he would have been the perfect picture of a knight. But on his breast, instead of the insignia of some king or lord, his armor bore only a few deep scratches.
“Listen up, Parn.” The village chief spoke to the young man glaring at him as though rebuking a child. “Even if you go by yourself, it won’t solve anything. Yes, the enemy is just a band of goblins, but they are numerous. No matter how much confidence you have in your prowess, there is no way you can defeat so many of them.”
Parn scowled at him, not hiding his frustration. This whole time, the villagers and chief had kept repeating the same arguments. Their stubbornness and cowardice knew no bounds.
“That is exactly why I came to you for help! As you say, Eto and I have little chance against such a large band of goblins on our own. But those of us assembled here can fight! If we show fear before a mere band of goblins, we will bring shame upon our village!”
Parn looked around the group. Everyone avoided his gaze, and he waited patiently for someone, anyone, to lift their head and look him in the eye.
The village’s problem was, of course, goblins. As soon as the snow had melted, a band about twenty of them had set up residence in a nearby cave. It had been three months since they moved in, but they had yet to make any move against the village. Knowing the evil nature of goblins, though, it would not be long before they would visit some calamity upon their neighbors.
Parn had called together all those villagers who seemed fit to fight in the hopes of defeating the goblins. Thirty villagers ought to have a clear advantage over only twenty goblins. But he had not counted on their reaction…
“Nothing bad has happened yet. Maybe nothing will ever happen. Why should we go seeking trouble, and give them a reason to fight us? And if anything goes wrong, they will surely take the opportunity to attack the village as well,” murmured one of the villagers. Parn looked at him in despair. It was Zamjee the hunter. Parn had been counting on his prowess as an archer most of all.
“Zamjee, that’s a dangerous idea. You know as well as I how awful the goblins are. If we wait until the village is in danger, it will be too late. But if we beat them now, the danger will be gone.”
As Parn said, he knew of the evil of goblins. Like elves, they were fae, but in the distant past they had entered the service of the god of darkness and their forms had become twisted and ugly.
“But-” Lyott, the woodcutter, looked up and raised his voice in protest. He was the strongest man in the village. Other villagers spoke up as well, but none of them agreed with Parn.
Given into his anger, Parn struck the table again. This time the table itself gave a jolt and fell over, landing on the floor with a loud bang.
“My father fought against thirty bandits! Are you saying that you don’t have even a tenth of his courage?”
“I’ve heard that story before. Didn’t your father abandon his post as a knight, meet those bandits while running away, and get himself killed?” Mort, the owner of the general store, said this in a sarcastic voice. Along with old Jet, the owner of the tavern, he was considered one of the most knowledgeable people in town.
All the blood drained from Parn’s face. “My father… don’t you dare insult my father!”
“I’m just repeating the rumors. If those rumors are false, why has the coat of arms of the Holy Knights been scratched off of your armor? Why did your mother have to leave Valis for a tiny village like this?”
Parn put his hand on the hilt of his sword. The urge to draw it and cut Mort’s head off boiled up from deep inside him. But taking arms against a civilian would have been an act of evil.
“I understand,” he muttered weakly, releasing his grip on his sword, “if that’s how it is, me and Eto will take care of it.”
Parn strode out of the room, flinging the tavern door open in front of him. Until the sound of his armor had faded, the villagers stayed in their seats, hanging their heads.
“He can’t seriously intend to go there with just Eto for company,” whispered Lyott to his neighbor, Mort.
“Of course not! Even he wouldn’t do such a reckless thing…” Mort said, as though trying to convince himself. The villagers were familiar with Parn’s character. If it was in the name of justice, he would rush into danger without a care in the world.
The village chief listened to this exchange for a moment, then quietly exited through the doors Parn had flung open and walked to a house just outside the village.
Parn returned to his house and opened the door. His heavy strides made the floor squeak, and the spikes on his boots dug new scratches into the wooden floor.
“How was it, Parn?” asked a voice from inside the room.
“Awful,” said Parn to the man standing in the room. It was a priest. He was wearing a bleached white cotton robe with a bright blue sash around the waist. The amulet hanging from his neck bore the symbol of Phalis.
The priest, Eto, was Parn’s childhood friend. Both of them had lost their parents at a young age, and this had drawn them together. Eto’s personality was the opposite of Parn’s - he showed little emotion and always acted with discretion and prudence. But both of them had the conviction to see their goals through to the end, regardless of the obstacles in their way.
Listening to Parn’s speach, Eto took his amulet in one hand and chanted the name of Phalis in a low voice.
“Well, it can’t be helped. The villagers haven’t gotten themselves mixed up in this, and even in the last war against the demons, this country was the only one that remained neutral.”
“But I can’t fight twenty goblins all on my own!” Parn sat down at the table in the center of the room, pulled his leather waterskin off of his back, and drank the contents in one gulp. Once he had finished, he let out a great sigh and dropped the waterskin on the table.
“That said, we cannot afford to leave the goblins alone. Everything is fine for the moment, but we don’t know when they might pose a threat to the village.” Placing his hand lightly on his amulet, Eto had taken the tone he used to convey the teachings of Phalis to the villagers. After four years of religious studies in Alania’s temple of Phalis, Eto had finally been ordained a priest and returned home to Zaxon quite recently. He was not yet permitted to head up his own temple, but merely to teach at the side of the road or in meeting-houses.
“But can the two of us really do it? There are twenty of them! That’s ten times as many!”
Perhaps an experienced warrior could have defeated ten, twenty, or even thirty goblins. But it would be years before Parn could hope to reach that level.
“There might be a way.” Eto stood stock-still, deep in thought. His chin sunk into his chest, his eyes stared at nothing.
Since Parn had known Eto for most of his life, he knew better than to interrupt him when he was lost in thought. In any case, as a warrior, if he could train his body to cut down his enemies, that was enough.
“I don’t think this is a very good strategy but…” Eto lifted his head and turned to face Parn.
Parn grinned. “You’ve made up your mind? Good, let’s go.”
Slayn Starseeker’s house was at the far northern edge of Zaxon. He had moved there two years earlier, and started teaching the villagers to read and write the alphabet, becoming a well-loved teacher.
But he also had a reputation for being odd. In his little house there were piles of books everywhere, and many cabinets full of carefully labeled and organized bottles containing dried herbs and insects. He also had the habit of staring up at the sky late at night, muttering to himself. For those reasons, few dared to approach his house, but on this day, not one but two visitors stopped in.
Philmar, the village chief, was of course surprised to see another visitor, but his shock doubled when he realized that visitor was no human, but rather a dwarf. The aforementioned dwarf awkwardly introduced himself as Ghim. At that moment, Slayn was opening a bottle of ale for Ghim.
Philmar told Slayn everything — that Parn and Eto were headed off to fight the goblins. That none of the villagers wanted to help them. He asked Slayn to go save the two youngsters.
“Goblins!?!”
The one who had yelled this in anger was not Slayn, but rather Ghim.
“How many are they? Did those dirty bandits come here to get their heads cut off by my battleaxe?”
The dwarf was wearing a full suit of chain mail and carried a huge double-edged battleaxe. With his sturdy helmet decorated on both sides with horns, he looked more like a warrior ready to charge into battle than a traveler.
“Goblins and dwarves have been fighting since time immemorial,” said Slayn by way of explanation to Philmar, whose jaw had dropped at the dwarf’s sudden transformation. Since hearing the word “goblin,” Ghim had gone stock-still, as though turned into a statue.
“That’s right, they’re nothing but a band of hateful thieves! Without even knowing what to do with them, they steal the beautiful gems and metal from under the earth. Since the dawn of time, us dwarves have cut off as many of their heads as there are stars in the sky, but the bastards breed like rabbits.”
“Well you know, there are infinite numbers of stars in the sky,” said Slayn softly to the dwarf. “Fortunately, there are only about twenty of them around here. But Parn and Eto can’t face that many. Did they really go on their own?”
Seeing the chief nod, Slayn realized that it was indeed likely that Parn would do such a thing. But though Slayn had only met him on his return from training, Slayn had taken Eto for a more level-headed fellow.
“Young people are no good at thinking logically, after all,” he muttered to himself. “Well, I can’t just stand by and let two such promising youngsters die. I ought to be able to take care of twenty goblins with my magic.”
“And my axe.” Ghim picked his battleaxe up off of the table and fastened it to his back.
“You`ll go?” Hope written on his face, the chief bowed deeply to Slayn.
“I, too, live in this village. Do not worry about it.”
Slayn stood as well and walked to the back of the room, where he picked up a a wooden staff. It was a strange, twisted staff, with writing in a mysterious language scratched into its surface. But of the villagers, only Philmar recognized it. It was a Sage’s Staff only those certified as mages by the Academy of Sages were permitted to own. The owner of such a staff could easily accomplish great acts of magic. That is why, when no villager answered Parn’s call, Philmar had thought that Slayn might be able to help. Of course, he had not counted on finding a goblin-hating dwarf as well…
“Knowing Parn, he must have dashed off with minimal preparation. If we don’t hurry, we might be too late. Let’s go.”
Slayn pulled a single hefty tome out of its disorderly pile. On its cover, strange words were printed in gold. To those able to decipher ancient runes, the title read, “Slayn Starseeker’s Spell Book.”
About three hours east of Zaxon, a small cave mouth could be seen in a stone knoll. Once, a cheerful family of little people had lived there, but twenty years earlier they had moved and the cave had become a shelter for hunters. Children had also found it a wonderful playground, and even Parn and Eto used to play there. But since the goblins moved in, no one else had dared approach it.
Emerging from the forest and continuing along the stone path, Parn and Eto surveyed the disorderly scene in front of them. Huge boulders were scattered here and there, offering ideal hiding places where the goblins were unlikely to find them. Since goblins were creatures of darkness, they hated the midday sun above all else. The nocturnal creatures that they were, they ought to be fast asleep inside the cave during the day.
That was, of course, the reason Parn and Eto had decided to attack during the day. As long as the sun shone in the sky, Phalis’ power to destroy the darkness was at its strongest and the races of light had the advantage. Soaking up the spring sunlight, Eto and Parn closed in on the goblin den.
Eto’s strategy was a simple one First, shoot the sentinels with bow and arrow. Then light some saplings on fire at the entrance to the cave in order to smoke out the goblins. If all went well, they would come dash out in a disorderly manner, reducing their ability to fight. They would pick off as many as possible from a distance, then Parn would fight the remaining goblins with his sword and Eto would use his mace. If they put their backs to the hill so as not to be surrounded, they would probably prevail against the goblins, weakened by sunlight as they would be.
Parn was no fond of archery, but given the goblins’ number, he had reluctantly agreed. As soon as they had decided on a strategy, Parn was as cheerful as if their victory had been assured, but Eto, who had come up with the plan, was still nervous. Watching Parn unsheath his bastard sword with a confident expression on his face, Eto grasped his amulet and uttered a brief prayer to Phalis.
When they arrived at the cave, seeing that his worries had been realized, Eto reflexively looked up at the sky. Parn was also chewing on his lip while looking at the two ugly goblins in front of them. Their reddish-brown skin partially covered by dirty rags wrapped around them, they wore shoddily-made shortswords hanging from the straw ropes they were using as belts. They bore wooden shields in their left hands and stood with their backs hunched, squinting into the sunlight. They looked somewhat like humans, but were about half as tall, and their bare limbs were thin and knobby, like gnarled wood. They had no hair at all, and their eyes and ears seemed too big for their faces. Their noses were so flat that they looked like little more than two holes, and their mouths formed a wide gash in their faces, revealing their yellowed canines and blood-red tongues.
Not seeing Parn and Eto hiding in the shade of the rocks, the goblins were fidgeting, as though bored.
“Looks like we need to change our plan,” said Eto. They had only expected one watchman. If there had only been one, they would have been able to take him out in one go, with both Parn’s bow and Eto’s sling. But that plan had crumbled. If one of them missed his target, the rest of the plan would fail as well.
His uncertainty showing, Eto took his sling out of his pack and cast about for stones to throw.
“I’ll aim for the one on the right, you shoot the left one.” Parn pulled his bow off of his shoulder and strung it. He removed two oak arrows with falcon feather flights from his quiver and put them to the string.
Eto put a stone in his sling and slowly began to swing it around. Parn pulled back his bowstring.
“Now!”
As soon as he was sure of his aim, Eto gave the signal and fired. The arrow and the stone flew towards the watchmen at the same time.
“Gah!”
Both the arrow and the stone hit their targets and the two goblins wobbled on their feet. One of them crumpled to the ground.
But Eto saw what had happened. His stone had hit one goblin on the head, but Parn’s arrow had missed the other goblin’s vital spot and hit its shoulder instead. It was still alive!
Kashunk!
Parn shot the remaining goblin in its misshapen belly. Bright red blood gushed from the wound as it collapsed to the ground.
“Well, we’ve got no choice. We’ll just have to kill them one by one.”
With a great clanking noise, Parn and Eto shot out of the shadows of the rock in unison. Parn draw his bastard sword and lifted it up as though aiming for the sun. For a moment, light flashed along the blade.
While rehearsing his plan, Eto pulled two flasks filled with oil from his pocket. He threw them towards the cave mouth. They broke with a loud crack, splashing their contents around.
But by the time he got out his flint, he knew he wouldn’t make it in time.
Disgusting creatures were pouring out of the cave.
Luckily, a number of goblins slipped on the oil covering the ground around the entrance. One of them fell down the rock face with a strange grunt, hit its head, and stopped moving.
“Die, you bastards!” Parn’s yell echoed.
“Parn, let’s put our backs to the rock so they can’t surround us.”
Eto stopped Parn from charging head-first into the group of goblins and backed up against the boulder where they had hidden. Parn followed his example.
“Careful! They poison their blades!”
Since they had their backs to the rock, there was no risk of being surrounded, but they still had to fight against no less than twenty enemies. With many of them all around, it was too late for Parn and Eto to run. The fight would go on until they either collapsed or defeated all the goblins.
Parn was of course skillfully wielding his sword and shield like a true warrior. While blocking one attack with his shield, he struck out at another enemy with his sword. The goblin injured by his attack dropped like a rock, blood spurting from its shoulder. Parn finished it off with a blow to the back. It was nothing compared to what a veteran soldier might have done, but it was good enough for fighting goblins. Eto, too, had received combat training at the temple of Phalis. He could hold his own with mace and shield. And Eto moved faster than Parn. Dodging a goblin’s attack with deft footwork, he put all his power into a strike of his mace.
The sharp sounds on metal on metal and the dull sound of metal smashing into flesh filled the air. The goblins went down one by one under the blows of the two young men.
But there was a limit. Eto, inexperienced in combat as he was, began to tire, his breath growing ragged and his hands shaking.
When he noticed Eto’s fatigue, Parn began to fight more vigorously, in the hopes of finishing it quickly. With wide blows, he attacked the goblins facing Eto as well. Because of this, Parn too began to tire, but his greater combat training gave him more reserves.
Somehow they had reduced the goblins to half their original numbers. The foul stench of ten bloodied goblin corpses floated in the air. But the remaining goblins climbed over their comrade’s corpses and fought with a renewed determination, as though their anger had overcome their fear. Goblins who felt sure of winning were fearsome enemies.
“I guess this is it,” muttered Parn.
Even he was weakening. Seeing Eto burst into a coughing fit and lean weakly against the rock, Parn made up his mind.
He threw down his shield, held his bastard sword in both hands, and leaned forward. To motivate himself, he let out a strange yell.
“Ooo!”
And then he began.
He rammed into the two goblins trying to deal a finishing blow to the weakened Eto and on into a clump of four goblins, swinging his sword wildly like a berserker.
I wonder if you can call this an honorable death? Parn thought as he swung his sword. Dying in battle ought to be a good death for a warrior. But when his own father had met his end in a desperate battle against bandits when Parn was little, it had been called a dishonorable death, and he and his mother had been forced to flee Valis. Parn’s mother had died in an epidemic when he was ten. Since then, Parn had lived by hunting in the forest and helping in the fields. At sixteen he had donned his father’s armor and signed on as a mercenary in Flaim, where he fought the desert tribes for two years. Afterward, he had returned to the village, where he helped defend the village, all while waiting for another chance to sell his services as a mercenary.
If he died dishonorably, what meaning was there in his life?
Just then, he felt something hot burn into his left shoulder. The pain shot through his body. A goblin had stabbed him from behind. Blood spurted out and stained his shoulder red.
Enduring the tooth-clenching pain, Parn spun around and cut down the goblin that had injured him. But, fighting in such difficult conditions, Parn lost his balance. As he crumpled under the weight of his armor, he tried to dig his spurs into the ground. Parn was helpless as he struck the ground with a great clanging and banging. Sparks flew where the metal hit the rock.
Another goblin leapt forward, taking advantage of the moment. Parn felt pain shoot through his left thigh. He saw that a goblin had thrust its short sword into his thigh and was trying to pull it out. As the goblin yanked on the sword, waves of pain washed over Parn. When he thought the pain had passed, he felt himself lose control over his muscles. The poison on the blade was starting to take effect.
Parn desperately tried to stand, but he no longer had the energy. As he gave in to his intense fatigue, Parn turned his head to see how Eto was doing. As he did so, the immense blue sky filled his gaze. The sight of it, with not one cloud in view, seemed to fill Parn with a strange satisfaction. Looking up at the sky, he let go of his sword and lay spread-eagled on the ground.
Parn watched the disgusting creatures plunge their swords towards his chest as though it was happening to someone else.
It was right then! An arrow sprouted from the chest of the goblin that was trying to kill him. With a sort of sigh the goblin collapsed, and Parn could hear another voice call out.
It was a language Parn had never heard before.
Along with that voice, the air seemed to thicken, and the world seemed to go dark as Parn passed out. As he lost consciousness, something bright flashed through his mind.
I see, that’s how it is… Dad! Parn shouted inside his heart.
And then the darkness took him.
“Well, it looks like we made it,” muttered Slayn as he watched Ghim finish off the goblin with a crossbow. As the other goblins turned to look, Slayn uttered a few words in the ancient runic tongue.
“Ô peaceful airs that bring sleep.”
While reciting the spell, Slayn slowly waved his staff in the air. Three of the goblin reinforcements suddenly fell as though the life had fled from their bodies. Only two were left.
Ghim switched from his crossbow to his axe and jumped into the fray. Victory was decided in an instant. The goblin’s head flew through the air, its face frozen in shock. The one remaining goblin turned to run, but Ghim cut it in half. The goblin’s upper body fell to the ground with a thud, while the legs staggered unsteadily forward before collapsing in turn. The blood gushing from the wound stained the ground red.
“Please finish off the sleeping goblins.”
While saying this, Slayn carefully surveyed his surroundings. He couldn’t see a single goblin that was still moving.
Slayn faced the cave and concentrated. Then he chanted briefly in the ancient tongue. Using magic to magnify his perceptions, he cast mental feelers into the cave. He tasted the air in the cave, seeking out any remaining goblins. When his mind had touched the back wall of the cave, Slayn stopped chanting.
“It would seem the coast is clear,” Slayn said happily to Ghim, who was busy cutting goblin necks.
“I’m all done here too. I made sure all of them are dead.”
Slayn nodded. Then he walked over to Parn, who was still lying on the ground, and touched his neck. Something warm seeped onto his hand.
He’s alive, but badly wounded. Slayn called Ghim over in a loud voice. “Help me out over here! If we don’t hurry and get him home, it could be too late!”
Slayn and Ghim took the injured Parn back to his house and laid him to sleep on his bed. Upon examination, Parn’s wounds were deeper than they had appeared. Eto had no visible injuries, but Parn had injuries on his shoulder and leg as well as a head wound of unknown origin, the wound on his shoulder being the most dangerous. As soon as Eto had recovered from his fatigue, he demonstrated his priestly power by closing Parn’s wounds. But the poison coating the goblins’ blades had already spread throughout Parn’s body.
Though his wounds had closed, it seemed he would not yet recover from his injuries. He tossed and turned in a fevered sleep. Eto and Slayn tried every remedy they could think of, but in the end, all they could do was trust in Parn’s strength.
Three days after the battle, Parn’s fever peaked. It seemed as though his whole body was burning, and no matter how often Eto went to get water from the stream, it was never enough to cool Parn off.
Whether Eto’s efforts finally paid off, or Parn’s inner strength was enough to purge the poisons, on the following morning his fever broke and he slipped into a quiet sleep. That evening, he awoke at long last.
Once he had awoken, Parn’s recovery was rapid. Even so, it took him another three days before he was able to get out of bed.
So it was that one evening, Parn and Eto called on Slayn while he was wrestling with yet another arcane text.
“Oh, it’s you lot.”
Ghim’s brusque voice came from the entryway. While seeking news of Leylia, he was staying with Slayn.
Slayn had spread ancient texts across his desk and was chanting unintelligible words.
When he reached the entrance, Parn and Eto were waiting respectfully. Whether Ghim was vigorously cheering him on or insulting him, Parn consistently leaned down to listen to Ghim.
“Well, it would seem you’ve recovered.” Seeing the improvement in Parn’s complexion, Slayn nodded as if in approval. He still looked a little tired, but color had returned to his cheeks, and his eyes shone with a youthful radiance.
“I’ve been a bother to you.” Parn bowed his head deeply.
“If you want to thank anyone, you should thank your friend over there. If he hadn’t nursed you that faithfully, you might have died, no matter how strong your life force.”
As he spoke, Slayn realized that something was bothering Parn.
“I doubt you came here just to thank us. Please come in. It’s small, so please pardon the mess.”
“Thanks.” Parn bowed as he entered.
As Slayn had said, the room was small and crammed full of odds and ends. With four men inside, it was positively claustrophobic. What’s more, since there weren’t enough chairs, Eto and Ghim had to sit on the bed.
“It is as you say.” Though he was itching to get the words out, Parn was having trouble, but on Slayn’s urging he spoke. “I think I want to set out on a journey. I never intended to spend my whole life in this village, and we were made a laughingstock by those goblins. But for some reason everyone’s treating me like a hero. It pains me to get called a hero when I cannot claim the credit for our victory. You understand, right?”
“You know, whatever the result, your actions could truly be called heroic. There’s no need to be humble.”
But Parn was not the kind of man who could be satisfied with such words.
“There are many equally… no, even more wicked creatures than those goblins in the world. But I don’t have the power to face down such evil. All the more reason to leave. And Eto agrees with me as well. Not only would companions hearten me on my journey, we would be able to confidently face the dangers in our path.”
Slayn listened intently to Parn’s speech.
“So, you want to travel and get stronger. I understand that. What I do not understand is how you want me to help.”
“In short… in short, I would like you to accompany me in my travels. You’re a mage. Your magical powers would serve us well against the dangers we would face. And rumor has it that here in Lodoss there are any number of monsters that can only be defeated with magic. What do you think, Slayn? Would you oblige us by joining us in our travels?”
“Hmm.” Slayn pondered this, nodding to himself.
“That’s a good idea. I second it. I plan to leave this town to wander soon. If this mage comes too, he can earn our bread with his craft.” Ghim let out a deep belly laugh.
Slayn met the gaze of the young man who was staring him in the eye. He’d seen that look before.
His friend had proposed that they defeat the thieves’ Guild of Alan. Even with Slayn’s magical powers, the task was too great.
Slayn had refused his request. He had tried to stop his overenthusiastic friend. But he hadn’t been able to change his mind. Slayn had even given him his own invisibility ring. But three days later, in the night, Slayn’s friend was stabbed with a poisoned blade and was never seen again. After that, Slayn heard that the widely feared Guildmaster had been killed and replaced by one who forbade the use of force. Even so, Slayn believed he had made a mistake. Shouldn’t be have stopped his friend on that last night when he had seen him alive? Slayn had never forgotten the sincerity in his friend’s gaze. And now another youth turned that same gaze on him. He was about to set out on a journey he did not understand, fighting something unknown. Those eyes were saying, “follow me.”
Slayn simply said, “That’s a dangerous idea.”
“What do you mean?” asked Parn, his expression perplexed.
Are the gods giving me a chance to make a different choice this time? Slayn wondered if the god of knowledge, Rahda, that he worshipped, might be at work.
Slayn closed his eyes for a moment, maintaining his silence, but at length he spoke in a quiet, hoarse voice.
“I understand. I will accompany you. Ghim has his own reasons to want to travel as well.”
Opening his eyes, Slayn caught a glimpse of Parn exchanging a look with Ghim.
“Mmm,” grunted Ghim, and turned away from Slayn.
“But let’s hope there’s no danger. I’m a bit of a wimp, you see.”
Ghim was unable to hold back any longer, and roared with laughter. Eto and Parn merely looked at each other, surprised to have convinced Slayn so easily.
