Goblin Slayer, Vol. 5 Page 11

  There was insensitive, and then there was insensitive, Priestess thought, holding gently to Noble Fencer’s shoulders.

  “Hachoo!” Someone gave a dainty sneeze from the cold.

  She tried to cover her red face with her mouth, but it was too late. The elf’s sharp ears had picked up the direction of the sound, in which she now looked with a grin. Noble Fencer was staring at Priestess in a way that was not very ladylike.

  “I… I couldn’t help it. It’s cold out.”

  “……Yes. It is,” Noble Fencer muttered, but there was a hint of a smile at the edges of her lips. Priestess was sure of it.

  Ohhh…

  Part of her was proud to have evoked this reaction—but she was a little too embarrassed to consider it a lucky break.

  “You’re right, though,” High Elf Archer said, the color of her face uninspiring. “It really is cold out here, especially in this getup.” Her ears twitched restlessly. “I think my ears are going to freeze clean off.”

  “They don’t call it the snowy mountain for nothing,” Goblin Slayer said from outside the cage. He signaled Dwarf Shaman to stop. Then he reached into his item pouch and pulled out a blanket, although its usefulness against the cold was minimal.

  “It’s a bitter wind,” Dwarf Shaman said. “What do you say, Scaly—er, monk?”

  “I myself must dress warmly lest I be rendered immobile.” The lizardman was wearing his normal outfit, augmented with a very heavy cloak. He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Some say the fearsome nagas were annihilated by the chill.”

  “Racial weakness, eh? No helping it, then. What say we get a fire going and warm our bones?”

  Dwarf Shaman reached into his bag of catalysts for a flint, along with one or two large stones.

  “Dancing flame, salamander’s fame. Grant us a share of the very same.”

  No sooner had he intoned the words than the stones in his hand began to glow gently from within. The casting of Kindle consumed one of his spells—but none of them considered it a waste.

  “The stones won’t burn, just warm up, so—yipes! Hot, hot! It’s a good compromise.”

  “I’ve got some very bad memories of that spell,” High Elf Archer said, reflexively covering her leg. Dwarf Shaman snorted.

  “If you don’t like it, I don’t have to give you one.”

  Shortly thereafter, the rocks were nicely heated; Dwarf Shaman wrapped them in cloth with a practiced hand and placed them in the cage. Even High Elf Archer, who had looked none too pleased just a moment before, accepted a stone, blinking.

  “Er, thanks. You’re pretty considerate, for a dwarf.”

  “Th-thank you…!” Priestess said.

  “…”

  Each of the three had her own reaction. Dwarf Shaman simply thumped his belly with a ’Tis nothing!, causing High Elf Archer to sigh.

  “You could stand to be a little more open about your feelings,” the dwarf said. “Still and all. Beard-cutter, got anything for us?”

  “Hmm. I had intended to wait until we arrived at the castle, but…” He grabbed a handful of something in his item pouch and pulled it out easily. He tossed it into the cage, where Priestess caught it.

  In her hand were several small rings, each set with a blue gem.

  “Those rings have the Breathe spell sealed inside,” Goblin Slayer said calmly. This was a spell that would allow one to breathe freely.

  About the only spell caster Priestess could think of who might be capable of doing such tricks as this was Witch. Even if the thought of the buxom magician made Priestess keenly aware of her own all-too-thin body.

  She put that aside and said, “Goblin Slayer, sir, if you’re giving us rings to breathe underwater, does that mean…?”

  In the back of her mind, Priestess pictured those ruins they had visited, the ones ruled over by an ogre. Goblin Slayer had used a scroll inscribed with the Gate spell to launch a high-pressure jet of water transported from the bottom of the sea toward the monster.

  “Of course you have that,” Priestess said.

  “The rings won’t work for long,” Goblin Slayer said sharply. “But they will help take the edge off the cold, even out here in the snow.”

  “Awesome! Why didn’t you say so sooner, Orcbolg?!”

  High Elf Archer clapped her hands, flicked her ears, and with a great show of joy put the ring on her finger.

  “Mmmm!” she said. To all appearances, it was true that the ring helped with the cold. Perhaps it made sense, of a sort: snow was just frozen water, after all.

  “The ring alone doesn’t do that much, but combined with the dwarf’s stone, I’m pretty warm,” the elf said.

  “Oh, uh… Let me try, then…” With a good deal of reluctance, Priestess put on her ring. The moment she did so, the chill was blunted all around her body, as if she had buried herself in a blanket.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed involuntarily. “This is amazing!”

  “Isn’t it?” High Elf Archer said, closing her eyes and looking as proud as if she had come up with the rings herself.

  Dwarf Shaman, listening to this, snorted out a laugh.

  “Hey, what?” grumbled High Elf Archer, pouting.

  “Goodness…” Priestess sighed and looked at Noble Fencer just beside her. She was met with a forceful gaze and icy eyes. “Here, why don’t you try a ring, too?”

  “………I don’t need it,” Noble Fencer replied, shaking her head so hard her golden hair quivered violently. “………I’m not cold.”

  “Come on, how can you say that…?”

  Suddenly, Priestess remembered the younger girls at the Temple. It was the sort of thing that they would have said pointedly (whatsoever their reasons) when they went out in winter in only the thinnest vestments, even as their noses dripped with snot.

  Gently, Priestess took Noble Fencer’s hand. As expected, it was freezing cold.

  “Here, I’ll help you put it on.”

  “……I told you, I’m not—achoo!” She sneezed, then quickly looked away from the surprised Priestess. “……I’m not cold.”

  “…Sure, sure.” Priestess struggled to suppress a laugh. “I’ll make sure everyone knows. But I’m still going to put this ring on you.”

  “…………Hrm.”

  And so, no longer taking no for an answer, Priestess slid the ring onto the fighter’s finger.

  The blue stones glittered on the girls’ hands.

  “Heh! Guess I can’t run away anymore now that I’m wearing this.” Even High Elf Archer seemed to be getting in on the fun, giggling as she spoke.

  “……”

  Noble Fencer remained silent and sullen, paying the others no mind, but the three of them stuck close to the warm stones. The warming effect granted by their rings with the pretty blue stones might not last very long—but the rings themselves would be left over.

  “Heyo, girls, that’s enough chitchat. Back to looking frightened.” Dwarf Shaman tried to look as menacing as he could in hopes of encouraging them in their act.

  “Come on, dwarf, you don’t have to spoil the moment!”

  “Moment? Speak for yourself, Long-Ears. What kind of slaves show up laughing and gossiping?”

  When he put it that way, she couldn’t very well argue. High Elf Archer pursed her lips in annoyance but went quiet.

  “Take the lead,” Goblin Slayer said. “My night vision is too poor.”

  In fact, it would be quite unusual for an agent of chaos to carry a torch. Goblin Slayer took the pole of the cage on his shoulder, now following Lizard Priest.

  “Leave it to me. Best you follow closely, my wandering knight.” With a hissing, throaty chuckle, Lizard Priest moved forward in somber strides.

  The great black gate of the fortress was nearly before them, impossible to miss against the snow-whitened mountain.

  §

  “We request entrance!”

  Lizard Priest’s booming voice could be heard even over the howling of the blizzard. A dragon’s
roar, indeed. There was no way the fortress’s inhabitants could have missed him.

  “Your visitor is a servant of the god of external knowledge, a priest of the eye of the green moon! Brothers, will you not open this gate to me?!”

  Lizard Priest was (in fact) a cleric, and one who had applied himself long and diligently enough to rise to Silver rank. He had the bearing to pose as a high-placed member of any religion.

  As the last echo of his voice vanished into the storm, Dwarf Shaman nudged Goblin Slayer with his elbow.

  “Hard to believe he’s just acting, eh? I don’t think the little girl would quite have been up to it.”

  “True.”

  “Given how scantily clad shrine maidens of the evil gods tend to be, it might’ve been interesting, though.”

  “Is that so?”

  “What’s this? I thought you liked her display at the festival. Don’t you want to dress her up?”

  “I’m not interested.”

  The two spoke quickly and quietly, facing forward so they would still seem to be faithful disciples of Lizard Priest.

  After a moment, Dwarf Shaman said, “I wonder if this goblin paladin or whatever is strong. What do you think, Beard-cutter?”

  “I don’t know,” he murmured. “But we should operate on the assumption that he’s stronger than us.”

  “You mean so that whatever the reality is, we’ll be prepared?”

  “Yes.”

  “I suppose if we assumed he was a fool and he got the drop on us, that would only prove we were foolish.”

  Goblins were stupid, but they weren’t fools. Such had always been one of Goblin Slayer’s most important tenets. He nodded wordlessly at Dwarf Shaman.

  “Hmmm.” There was no response to Lizard Priest’s summons. The gate remained shut fast, the only answer the crying of the wind.

  Very well, then. Lizard Priest gathered up the sleeve of his ostentatiously colored robe and withdrew something from it: a wood-carved eye, the work of Dwarf Shaman, made in imitation of the brand they had found. This he held up.

  “The blue eye of the god of external knowledge looks upon you! Brothers, those who share in knowing, open now this gate!”

  At last, something happened.

  The very slightest of gaps appeared beneath the gate. This was followed by a clatter of pulleys, and gears turned by chains, and with a mighty groan the door began to open.

  Goblin Slayer watched the gate with absolute concentration. How many goblins would he find operating it? Whatever the number, their enemy had a huge fighting force. Now things were getting interesting.

  “Um… This is going to be okay…isn’t it?”

  At the soft but unexpected voice from behind him, Goblin Slayer moved only his eyes behind his helmet. From the other side of the bars, Priestess was looking at him with a trace of nervousness.

  “Do you think they’ll…throw us straight in the dungeon or…or anything?”

  “Most likely.” Goblin Slayer nodded, but only the tiniest bit—the goblins could see him. “It’s better than being made a sacrifice.”

  “Is… Is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “But…you’ll rescue us, right?”

  “That’s my intention.”

  Priestess opened her mouth to say something further, then quickly closed it again. Her expression softened as if she had given up.

  “Well… All right, then.”

  With that, she exhaled gently. Even with the various magical heaters, it fogged the moment it left her mouth.

  He could have said It’ll be all right, or You can trust me, or I won’t let the goblins lay a finger on you—anything to give the girls some comfort. But he hadn’t. He never did.

  Of course, if he were suddenly all warm and cuddly, she might suspect that someone had stolen his armor. But still…

  He is truly hopeless, she thought. She didn’t know why it made her feel like smiling, but she suppressed the impulse. She could feel Noble Fencer beside her, her body stiff; if from nervousness or fear, Priestess didn’t know.

  “It’s okay,” Priestess said. “Goblin Slayer is here. Everyone’s here.”

  “They’re coming,” High Elf Archer said sharply, picking up her ears.

  “GROOOBR!”

  The creature that appeared was small beside the gate it emerged from, and its yell was slight compared with that of Lizard Priest.

  It was a single goblin, dressed in tattered priest’s robes. He was no doubt trying to look as intimidating as possible, but his little, unsteady steps looked rather comical. Yet, somehow the silly quality, as if he was a caricature of a proud high priest, made him uncanny as well.

  “GORARO! GORBB!!”

  The goblin stopped in front of Lizard Priest and gestured imperiously, waving his hand and screeching something. Lizard Priest, still holding up the holy sign, nodded gravely along. Goblin Slayer and Dwarf Shaman kept their heads bowed like good disciples, silent and without talking.

  “What’s he saying?” High Elf Archer whispered to Priestess.

  “No idea,” she murmured back, shaking her head. How was she to understand the goblin language? “Do you think that’s the goblin paladin?”

  “He sort of looks more like a high priest to me.”

  “……You’re wrong.” Noble Fencer’s voice interrupted their whispering. “………That’s…not him.”

  The fire of anger burned in her eyes; Priestess couldn’t miss it.

  Oh…

  A little thought made it all too clear where the goblin had gotten his priestly vestments.

  “It’s okay…,” she said, hugging Noble Fencer. She wasn’t sure her feelings came across, but she hoped so.

  Now, then.

  “In that case, might we request an audience with the ruler of this fortress? The paladin himself?”

  “GORA! GORARARU!”

  “Oh, these? These are my two faithful servants. And these others, my…gift.” Lizard Priest made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the cage; he looked truly lordly. “We managed to capture a few pathetic adventurer girls. One of whom, I might add, already bore the mark of an offering.”

  “ORRRG! GAROOM!”

  “Ah, very much so, I understand. Lead us to the prison. We must cut off their limbs so they don’t escape.”

  The goblin priest nodded and, with a gesture that was a comical imitation of Lizard Priest’s own, motioned the party inside.

  Naturally, Lizard Priest didn’t understand goblin speech any more than the rest of them did. But their language often sounded like a child throwing a tantrum, and the meaning was generally about the same:

  I want that. Gimme. He did it. It’s his fault.

  What to do, then? The lithe tongue hissed a prayer:

  “O Mapusaurus, ruler of the earth. Permit me to join your pack, howsoever briefly.”

  This was the Communicate miracle, a work of telepathy. By borrowing some of the power of his forebears, who had hunted in packs, Lizard Priest was able to understand and make himself understood.

  “Nothing can go forward if the two sides don’t understand each other. Normally this spell is used for evangelism, but…”

  Such was what he had told them around the table at the inn the night before, sitting beside Dwarf Shaman, who worked tirelessly on his sewing.

  “I suspect it will be necessary for us at some point to learn a few words of the goblin tongue.”

  That had been Goblin Slayer’s very serious response. And now…

  “Phew! Looks like it worked, somehow,” Dwarf Shaman said.

  “We are still only through the gate. Don’t let down your guard.”

  “Y’don’t have to tell me twice.”

  The dwarf let out a short breath. Goblin Slayer shot him a look, then took in their surroundings.

  Goblins.

  They were in the courtyard of an old castle. Once upon a time, a spring had delivered water to the area, and banquets had perhaps been held in this marble plaza. But n
ow, the spring was dried up; the place was covered in snow, all signs of grass and trees vanished from the garden, any sight of knights or nobles long since past. Now it was the province of goblins, and as such, it had become a waste heap caked with blood and filth.

  “This is a dwarven fortress from the Age of the Gods? Look what’s become of it…”

  For someone who loved adventure and the unknown as much as High Elf Archer did, this pained whisper was understandable.

  “They have no idea how valuable this is…”

  “Look at them all, though,” Priestess said, biting her lip in an attempt to suppress the tremble in her voice. “We have to do something about this…”

  It was a stroke of good luck that the goblins saw them only as pitiful offerings. The little monsters knew how easily such prisoners could be reduced to weeping and sniveling, no matter how proud they looked or sounded.

  The goblin horde numbered well beyond the dozens.

  Goblin goons were everywhere: the garden, upon the walls, in the watchtower and the crenels. Each of them wore poor equipment—although it probably seemed of the highest make to goblin eyes—and each of them was watching the newcomers closely.

  Their gazes carried flashes of curiosity and lust, but mostly they were filled with a terrifying hunger. The eyes of an animal, of a brainless beast, would have been better. At least wild creatures didn’t stare with such malice and greed.

  “……”

  Priestess forgot herself in her efforts to shield Noble Fencer from their eyes; she hugged the other girl harder. She knew from experience that it would only egg the goblins on, but she did it anyway.

  “……”

  In the meantime, Goblin Slayer was carefully observing the environment from under his helmet. The geography, the architecture: if he didn’t take it all in, then he was almost certain to die in whatever he might attempt.

  Death hardly concerned him; but what he couldn’t stand was the thought that these goblins would remain to work their evil.

  “GORARA.”

  “Mm. Come, now. He says to follow him,” the lizard said, going after the goblin.

  “Sure thing, master priest. C’mon, tin man.”

  At Dwarf Shaman’s encouragement, Goblin Slayer hefted the pole of the cage.

  They left the courtyard full of goblins, heading down a staircase that dribbled with rotting runoff from the trash. Their footsteps echoed eerily in the stone basement. It was dim and gloomy, and an indescribable stench rose up from somewhere. They doubted it was from a storehouse. Why keep food in cages?