Chapter 98 - Tunnel

The Ghouls here were fast despite their hunched backs. Their nails were longer than those of the ones he had seen before, too. Still, they were no faster than harpies, and their nails were no sharper than Rem's axes. 'Point to point.'

He connected them with lines, bringing every movement around him within the reach of his Sixth Sense. Watching the approaching Ghouls, he had only one thing to do: draw his sword and swing. SHING. Freed from its scabbard, the blade did its work. KRAAH! Encrid gauged the approaching, rot-stinking Ghoul's steps by feel, and his sword fell. CRACK. SPLIT! A cut to the crown. With his left foot forward, he brought the sword straight down, splitting the Ghoul's crown with precision. Drawing the blade back out after it sank to the forehead completed the movement. He repeated it three times. Sword tip angled toward the sky, then a downward cut. In an instant, three Ghouls lay on the ground, their crowns split open. Meanwhile, Torres threw a dagger from beside him. It whizzed through the air and lodged in the skull of a Ghoul trying to circle around to the left. Encrid's feet moved faster. He stepped in and slashed an approaching Ghoul's neck, punched another in the head as it closed in, then thrust his sword one-handed through a third one's skull. A desperate struggle? Nothing of the sort. Thirteen Ghouls died in an instant. Yet as he killed them all, Encrid noticed something odd.

'Their pattern...' The Ghouls attacked in a set formation, almost as though they had learned to fight. That made them easier to handle, but anyone without the skill to overwhelm them could have been surrounded and killed in moments. 'What was that?'

They were different from both the Ghouls in the sewers and those he had killed by the river on the way here. Ghouls were man-eaters, among the most common monsters, creatures that used their brains even less than beasts did. 'Can these things use tactics?'

No. Impossible. Unless they had formed a colony. A group of monsters with a leader to command them was called a colony, but there was no sign of that either. There was no need to dwell on it, then. His Sixth Sense had simply picked up something odd. Would it be all right to wash the Ghoul blood off his blade in the stream? He was turning to tell the others it was over when Pin strode up. "What are you?"

She stared at Encrid. There was a lot packed into that question, but right now she was probably asking about the skill he had shown against the Ghouls. He opened his mouth. "I told you I command an Independent Platoon. It's a platoon devoted entirely to combat." That was not untrue. He had expected that to be the role the Company Commander intended for them from the start. Who would believe a platoon had only nine members? The only reason it could function was that its members' skills exceeded ordinary standards. With the Border Guard already firmly established, one might expect his unit to be overshadowed by its renown. Encrid's personal impression was nothing of the sort.

'They're no match for those four.' Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Jaxon. Even now, with the ability to cut down Ghouls like this, he could scarcely hope to rival those four.

'Still a long way to go.'

Even though he had seen the direction the signposts pointed, those four still felt far beyond his reach. By contrast, what about Torres of the Border Guard? He seemed beatable. Encrid might die if they actually fought to the death, but he could not readily picture himself losing, either. "You're a really good fighter."

"That was incredible."

The soldier who had stood sentry before dawn echoed Pin's praise. Several scouts approached to look at Encrid. Had he really done anything to deserve this much attention? Being treated this way was so unusual that it made him uncomfortable. Which was why he said what he did. "We won't need to move camp, then."

"That's right," Pin replied. They decided to return to camp. On the way, a scout with downturned eyes pointed Encrid toward the stream. It was not far from the spot they were using as a temporary camp and dining area. "Hey, I killed three, too."

Torres muttered beside him on the way back, but nobody paid him any attention. No, Encrid did at least respond. He gave Torres a light tap on the shoulder. "You made it easy." Torres knew the truth, though. All he had done was spare Encrid some inconvenience.

'He could have killed them all himself.' A fresh realization struck him.

'He was hiding his skill.'

No, Torres reconsidered. Encrid had not hidden his skill. He was simply a different fighter in sparring and actual combat. What if they fought in earnest, with their lives at stake?

'I think I'd lose.' Even within the rank of special-grade soldier, the Border Guard made distinctions of its own. In terms of fighting ability alone, Torres stood somewhere in the middle of that grade. Encrid seemed higher than that. Once his thoughts reached that point, he began to regret teaching him the hidden knife. "Hey, stop practicing that."

Having put his sword away after the fight, Encrid was fiddling with the thin stone out of habit. Torres spoke when he noticed. "After going to all that trouble to teach me?"

"... Never mind." Encrid had no way of knowing what was going through Torres's mind. Having someone you thought far beneath you surpass you could hardly feel good. Of course, Encrid truly could not understand that feeling. For him, it was everyday life. Because of his lack of talent, everyone overtook him, passed him by, and never looked back. Yet he never abandoned his dream. He swung his sword until his palms split open. That was the kind of man Encrid was. "Let's go wash our blades." Ghoul blood reeked of rot. The smell was unpleasant enough, and blood was greasy by nature. Left on a blade, it would damage it. "All right."

Torres, looking oddly deflated, was excused from hunting along with Encrid. "We'll prepare the food. Why don't you go do some laundry?" That gave them a chance to wash their sweat-soaked clothes in the stream. Drying them was a problem, but apparently they usually did not return to the burrows until nightfall. Leaving the clothes by the campfire all day should do. Encrid left his leather armor alone, since he had taken it off and washed it yesterday. He had sweated again during the march, but he could not stay as clean as he did in the city. It was common knowledge that neglecting to wash led to illness. In the army especially, cleaning and cleanliness were fundamental. The stream was clearer than he had expected, and its current carried dirt downstream swiftly. Pin had said the water was drinkable, so he filled his waterskin and took a sip. Then his stomach growled. "You too? Same here," Torres said when he heard it. They tidied up, gathered their thoroughly wrung-out clothes, and returned. "Let me take those."

A scout who had become twice as friendly since the Ghoul fight brought over a long branch and hung their clothes on it. Right beside the campfire, another scout was skinning a snake caught somewhere or other. "Quite a lucky find, eh?" the scout said as he skinned it. It did whet Encrid's appetite. Disgusting as it looked, snake meat was nutritious and full of protein. Hadn't Audin said as much? Meat you ate every scrap of when you could get it; the only problem was finding enough. "It is."

He answered and sat nearby. Torres sat beside him, and Pin across from them. The campfire crackled, giving off almost no smoke.

'That's a skill, too.' He had seen hunters and scouts do this expertly a few times: start a small fire with bark and leaves, then add finely split pieces of wood that burned well. Of course, there was a knack to it. Encrid failed every time he tried. For these scouts it seemed routine. A little smoke rose, then disappeared. Soon one of them pushed charred pieces of charcoal beneath the firewood stacked in a grid. "Burning firewood makes a lot of smoke." So they took care when first lighting it, then watched for smoke whenever they added more wood. It hardly seemed like enough smoke to be visible from Cross Guard, but caution in everything was probably a scout's habit. Soon two scouts were roasting snake meat, while the others toasted jerky and the like. One brought a large pot and boiled water, added various berries and other things, then scooped them out a little later. "That one's nicknamed Cook," Pin said, still seated on the ground. She was sharpening her hatchet with a whetstone. The sight brought Rem to mind.

'I hope he's staying out of trouble.' Encrid gave a distracted nod, and soon they began eating. The snake meat was softer than he had expected, seasoned just right with salt. To be honest, it was delicious. Especially the tail. "When I get back, I'm opening a restaurant."

The soldier who had helped with all the cooking spoke, his face bright in the firelight. He looked younger than Encrid had expected. When asked his age, he said twenty-two. "You little punk. You should be thinking about becoming a great ranger."

"I'd rather be a cook, Captain."

At the scout's reply, Pin burst out laughing and nodded her acceptance. There was a close bond between them. Encrid ate the snake meat and warmed some jerky to eat as well. When he shared a little of his seasoned jerky, the soldier nicknamed Cook lit up. "Oh, what's this? Why is it so good? Where did you get it?"

"In the city. I'll tell you when we're back."

Cook nodded over and over at Encrid's answer.

"You'd better." After that filling meal, they took afternoon naps, half the group at a time. "Resting well is part of a ranger's job. Besides, scouting the surroundings doesn't mean much in this country. Survival comes first here, and for that, you need stamina," Pin said. They even had designated places to rest: hiding places hollowed out of large trees. Some climbed into the branches to rest, while others stayed by the campfire. Once both halves of the group had rested, and the sun was sinking in the west, Pin got down to business. Standing before Torres and Encrid, she spoke. "There are three ways inside the walls. Let's talk them through. First, the Tunnel." She went on to explain.

"It's a route the city's black-market dealers use. People in the know know about it, but nobody really blocks it off. As you'll see, quite a few people know this passage." She added that it was easy, but carried a corresponding risk. "What's next?" Torres asked.

Pin continued without pause. The second option was to scale the walls in the dead of night. The third was to sneak in disguised as a trading company traveling around dawn. "The first is fastest, the second safest, and the third easiest." Just hearing them laid out made it clear. In descending order of risk, it was the third, first, then second option. But from the way Pin spoke, she seemed to see no great danger. Her tone was not grave in the slightest. "Getting inside the walls isn't actually that hard. The problem is what comes after: finding Kitten." Encrid agreed that would be difficult. What if the spy was being held captive? Already caught, Kitten would be unable to leave any signs. Would they have to search the prison, then? "If we find no trace in the city, we head straight back. All the scouts return to the main force, too."

"Thought as much." Torres spoke as if he had been expecting that, and Pin responded. He seemed to have received a few additional instructions from the main force. "Only the three of us are going in. Which route do you want?" Pin asked. "Shouldn't you choose? You know the situation here best." Pin folded her arms and nodded at Torres's words. He had a point. When Encrid agreed, she suggested the Tunnel. "Unless we're incredibly unlucky, we won't get caught. We leave tomorrow morning."

"Not at night?" Torres asked. Wasn't infiltration traditionally done at night? "Morning's better. They're actually more watchful at night. Even if we were climbing the walls, tomorrow night would be better." Encrid merely watched things unfold. After that, eating, training, and practicing sliding the stone in and out of his sleeve filled his day until it was over. It was time to crawl back into a burrow and sleep. There had been less danger than he had expected. Things even felt peaceful.

'Are there no Aspen scouts around here?'

The question crossed his mind. Then the next morning dawned.

"Let's go."

With Pin in the lead, the three set off for Cross Guard. Encrid had expected a wide detour, but that was not quite the case. "They consider the monsters and demonic beasts west of Cross Guard a wall in their own right. Scouts? Yes, they patrol. If we meet them, it'll be more than a bit of bad luck. As far as I know, they only send their best out here." It sounded as though Aspen's scouts did not move without a clear objective. Pin moved fast. She was a ranger for a reason. Her skill at spotting signs of monsters and demonic beasts and avoiding them was particularly impressive. Her gait was distinctive, too. Encrid noticed how she set each foot down heel first, pressing gently against the ground. "We'll have to go around a little here." Part of their route took them through a small rise thick with brush. Pin cleared the way with the axe at her waist, and Encrid used his sword to cut through the bushes blocking him. 'I didn't check my blade.'

He should have checked his equipment that morning, but whatever he had been thinking, he had skipped it. He had been too absorbed in training.

'A mistake.'

Not a serious one. It would hardly affect their current situation. As he sliced through the brush, red berries appeared within it. "Poisonous. Don't eat them," Pin said with a touch of humor.

"I'll be careful."

"Why so formal with me?" she asked.

"All right, then." When offered something, he seldom refused. Except an offer to share a burrow. Watching Encrid, Pin could no longer hold back her question. "Want to sleep with me when the job's done?"

"No."

"Tch."

"Hey, I'm walking right here, too."

That last remark was Torres's. "Yes. I know."

Pin was unabashed. That was probably her naturally bold disposition. They arrived at a small rise overlooking the city walls. Past the rise, to the west, would be the gate. The walls were visible in the distance, but there was no moat. "Why would they need a moat? Without real skill, you wouldn't even make it this far past the monsters and demonic beasts." Which meant Pin was no ordinary ranger. Of course, she would not be in charge of this region if she were. Encrid reflected on that as he entered the opening. "Rangers go first."

Ahead of him, Pin recited the rangers' slogan and went in. It was much like saying infantry were the flower of the battlefield. She glanced back. Encrid saw her smile, the thin leather helmet covering her head, and orange hair poking out through its gaps. He and Torres followed her inside. What followed was a series of things they had never imagined. "You fools." After they had gone some distance, a unit of soldiers greeted them, shields raised and long spears leveled. The passage was fairly spacious, wide enough for three people to stand abreast. A fine place to station a unit armed with long spears and shields. And behind them... CREEAK. Bowstrings were drawn. Looking back, they saw a unit armed with shortbows. They had not even walked half an hour since entering the Tunnel. It was a trap. Shields and long spears in front; dozens of nocked arrows barring the rear. A perfect trap that no one short of a knight could escape. "Fucking hell."

Torres's voice was full of despair. "I've been wanting to catch you, you wildcat bitch."

At the enemy commander's words, Pin's expression changed. "You son of a bitch!"

Those were her last words. Arrows flew, and long spears thrust back and forth. Encrid put up something resembling resistance, too. Buckler in his left hand, he swung his sword. But what could he do, overwhelmingly outnumbered and caught in the worse position? THUDTHUDTHUDTHUD. It began with a spearhead piercing his thigh and ended with his skull being pierced as he died. Feeling every bit of it sent agony surging through him, but this was a death he could not avoid. Of course, he did not die quietly. "Vicious bastard." Even in that situation, his sword and whistle daggers won him several companions for the road. Not that he would be traveling with them. Pain came, and darkness swallowed his vision. HEH HEH HEH. With the ferryman's laughter the last thing he heard, Encrid opened his eyes. Predawn. The start of a day with death waiting at its end. Today, repeating. Today had begun again. The actual mission was to determine whether the spy was alive, yet they had run into trouble before even getting past the walls. 'She said there were three ways past the walls, didn't she?'

Now he knew the Tunnel was a dead end. What about the others? Encrid rose to greet today as it began again.