Chapter 36

Hunting was always a favorite pastime for nobles of the Grim Horde. Devils love domination and violence by our natures, and it keeps your riding skills sharp and your sword arm strong. I always enjoyed the moment when I faced off the wild boar or deer, and it was my cunning and magic against their speed and brute strength. Having an orc on hand to bail me out never hurt either, though that was more a sensible precaution.

I didn’t go often, though. Memory is a funny thing; that exciting clash at the end stays fresh in the mind, but it’s easy to forget the long periods of waiting in the rain and muck.

At least the company was more pleasant than an orc retainer. We ought to have been quiet, but after an hour in darkness, Mariko had dozed, and I had nearly followed her. I roused her and started up a conversation. Making our quarry aware of us was better than him stumbling across us in our sleep.

“This wasn’t our worst assignment ever,” I said. “Up until this attack, I mean.”

“I agree. I do love having a real kitchen to work with.” Mariko let out a long sigh. “I wish I could make more than baked goods and sweaters, but at least everybody seems to appreciate those.”

Her head settled on my shoulder again. “Now, now, what did I say before?”

“I am sorry, but it is so cold out here!”

I couldn’t disagree, and I relented, throwing an arm around her. I wasn’t about to say no to some extra body heat. “Speaking of your works, do you know just how many Yamadas there are out there?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“It’s an exceptionally common surname! It made tracking down your one-shot story a bit of a challenge.”

Her face reddened. “Oh, no. You found it?”

I nodded. “Not Without My Supervisor? I hope that was yours; I found one from another Yamada Mariko that was… a bit less wholesome.”

“Not Without My Supervisor was mine,” she confessed. “What do you mean less wholesome?”

I smirked down at her, unsure if she could see me. “I couldn’t see you keeping a straight face while you drew a young woman and an octopus—”

“Stop,” she said, burying her face in my arm. “No, that was not mine.”

“Good, I liked the real thing better.”

“Were you able to read it? I know that your Japanese is not the best.”

“I’m getting a bit better; it’s your fault I was able to find it at all!”

She chuckled to herself. “I am always getting in my own way. Still, I am surprised you could read all of the kanji.”

“Hiro was kind enough to help me with the translation—”

“Oh, no!” Her face filled mine. “Do not tell me you showed it to everyone!”

“Why shouldn’t I? You put it in a magazine to be seen by other people, right?”

“Strangers, not people I know!” She settled back down, covering her face in her hands. “This feels like when Buddy found my underwear.”

“Would you like a review?” I asked. “Or would that also be too intimate?”

She peeked between her fingers and nodded. “Otherwise the suspense will kill me.”

“I liked the art quite a bit,” I said. “I couldn’t help but notice that the main heroine resembled you. Not just the look, but she was a homebody who liked baking and knitting.”

She gulped. “Wr-write what you know.”

“I thought her relationship with her supervisor at work was interesting,” I said. “She seemed rather passive while she waited for that dense man to get the idea. She was lucky he did, eventually.”

“Again, write what you know,” she said, giving my arm a squeeze.

“Come now. This was made before you even met Hiro, much less me!”

She hesitated a moment before nodding in agreement. “Life imitated art, then. Did you… like it?”

“I admit I tend to go in more for action than romance, but it was a fine read.” I almost added something about looking forward to her next work; it felt natural to say to a writer, but I knew that could only twist the knife.

“You’re the first,” she said.

“To enjoy it?”

“To try looking,” she said, her face coming close to mine again. “I didn’t expect to hear about it again. Thank you.”

“C-careful there, Ms. Yamada,” I said. “We are still on a mission.”

“That is an interesting response,” she replied. “You mention the mission, and not Heida.”

“I…” I gulped. “You’ve heard my objections. This will not end well for you.”

“Yet you keep on being so sweet,” she said. Her hand came to rest on my chest. “It is not kind to play with my feelings like that. It is like you are always bringing me close, then—”

An ear-splitting screech filled the night, and I shoved her aside. I could have been gentler, but I needed to get a clear view of the pen below. The cantankerous sheep had bolted to the other side of the enclosure, bleating as it tried to force its way through the narrow slats in the fence. I couldn’t blame it; the shadowy figure perched on the fence made my guts churn, too.

I quickly covered Mariko’s mouth, cutting off her own startled shriek. “No sense giving our position away!”

She shoved my hand away. “We have to help it! Svalinn’s Mercy!” She had the sense to whisper the spell; it’s fortunate that the forces of magic didn’t care how loudly you said something. The floating red barrier popped into existence right between the sheep and the beast.

I bit back a curse as it craned its head. From the side, I could see a pronounced muzzle full of jagged teeth. It hopped down into the pen, shading its eyes with a clawed hand in an oddly human gesture. Clearly not Buddy: this thing has a limited range of motion. Buddy has the advantage of being boneless.

It seemed the branches did their job, and it turned away to search for the source of the spell elsewhere.

I leveled my hand at it. “You didn’t seem to care about a Magic Bolt before. Let’s see how a Celestial Arrow strikes your fancy!”

Mariko grabbed my arm, and I could feel her trembling. “That is not an animal like you described.”

“And I was quite clear that I couldn’t show any mercy,” I hissed back. “I doubt it’s going to go volunteer at the fire department!”

“I see your point.” She bit her lip and nodded, releasing my arm. “Then try to be clean.”

“Gladly.” I had no intention of going hand to hand with it again; not when it had clawed fingers like steak knives! I leveled my hand again, only to find the target was nowhere to be seen. “Where in blazes…”

Mariko let out a surprised squeak as I lifted her up and sprang out of our devil-blind. She proved simpler to lift than Heida, and a good thing she was! A massive Fireball lit the hillside, the shockwave nearly bowling us over. I just barely kept my feet as I skidded to a stop at the bottom of the hill.

“My hands are full!”

“Right! Svalinn’s Mercy!” Another red barrier popped into place above us, courtesy of Mariko. This one was shaped like a tower shield, which spared us from the second Fireball’s wrath. The impact was enough to crack the barrier nearly in half, and hot air knocked the green cadet’s berets from our heads.

My stomach churned as I set her back down. “Hell’s bells, how much magical energy does this thing have?” Fireball normally doesn’t hit with much impact, since the idea is to do damage with the flames themselves. On the other hand, going all-out led to more explosive results. These weren’t quite as powerful as what I’d used to fell Big Ben, but then again, I’d been exhausted for days afterwards.

I chanced a look through Mimic Sight for just a moment, since our assailant was invisible against the night sky. The monstrous shape stood like a bonfire in the dark. Those were magical reserves like Rose, beyond any other human I’d ever scanned.

Time to douse that light before it turns those into more sledgehammer spells! I thrust a hand out. “Celestial Arrow!”

The golden missile shot forward, briefly lighting the gloomy night in its wake. My aim was perfect, but the beast spun about. Runes on its batlike wings flared to life at the point of impact, and the arrow ricocheted away into the darkness.

“Call for help!” I snapped at Mariko.

“Hai!” She whipped out her phone an instant before the lights on the barn shut off. “Shimatta! It’s dead!”

“Blast!” I peered into the night, and a new set of runes running down our attackers’ legs glowed a steady red. “It has the same scrambling fabricata as the Horde’s jammers!”

Its wings flapped once, lifting it off the ground. Its forearms lit up, and I narrowly pulled Mariko out of the way of another Fireball.

“It does not have to cast?” she asked, a moment before she set up a new Svalinn’s Mercy.

“It’s like they tattooed runes into its hide,” I replied. “Like a living fabricata.” Which meant that it wouldn’t have to waste time speaking and casting the spells. Another disadvantage for us.

“They did not tell us about those in school.”

“Hell, even I…” No, less talking, more casting. “Fireball!” This was the spotlight variant Kiyo had taught me. This monstrosity seemed to have no problems seeing us in the dim moonlight, and the glowing runes left out too much detail; we needed to even those odds.

The creature beat its wings, and even my shaky grasp on physics told me those wings shouldn’t have been able to support its weight. With each flap, I could see the flecks of residuum left in its wake.

Another peek through Mimic Sight showed its aura burning bright, but a shade dimmer than before. It was draining enough for us to lift those bags of dirt with Svalinn’s Mercy. Even if it’s optimized, that flight magic must be burning a fantastic amount of energy. “Mariko! It’s going to close the distance soon. It won’t have a choice.” I twisted my fingers and willed magic into them. “When it does, do not block my line of fire. Alright?”

“Understood.” Her voice sounded confident.

A smirk tugged at my lips. She’d be a fine soldier if only she’d fight.

It flapped again, and my prediction was borne out. It rocketed forward, making a beeline right for us.

“Slow Barrier!” I willed extra magic into the defensive spell as I traced a wide arc before us. The air thickened in my wake, making an almost gelatinous defensive structure that was great at capturing bullets and arrows.

And, I hoped, flying monstrosities.

If it noticed the trap, it gave no sign. It barreled straight into the Slow Barrier and was stuck like a fly to paper.

I almost wished I hadn’t given us a light source. The beast thrashing in the thick air before us looked like what the humans of old thought we demons looked like. Batlike wings flapped uselessly, cloven feet struggled to find purchase, a pointed tail lashed about, and proud horns slashed through the air. All blacker than midnight, all rendered helpless for one shining moment.

Most awful were its glowing white eyes, which I finally saw were not exactly like Buddy’s soulless orbs. There was a pupil hiding the white mass, but it was the same milky color as everything else.

I leveled my hands at it again. “That Slow Barrier won’t hold long!” Best to forestall Mariko trying to spare the thing.

Thus I threw away my chance; runes traced down its tail and a shockwave knocked us back, even as the Slow Barrier became so much residuum.

It twisted its fingers and runes burned bright in the air around its hands. “Flamiwhorl.” Its gravelly voice reverberated with the casual malice of a bored devil.

“It can talk?”

Before I could reply to Mariko, rings of flame surrounded us. They formed a rough dome, not tall enough to stand comfortably, and about ten feet wide.

“More importantly, it can cast!”

If our captor understood us, it gave no sign. It simply walked off as the fiery rings closed in on us.