After recovering his longsword from the hydra’s carcass, Menel said, “Wait a sec.”
“We don’t have much time,” Reystov replied with a dubious look.
“I’ll be quick.” Menel wrapped a cloth around his hand, pulled out his dagger, and started doing some kind of work on the hydra carcass. He inserted the blade carefully into the joint behind its fangs in its upper jaw, equivalent to the joint between the cheek and the ear in humans. “Good,” he said, and he poured the jet-black bodily fluid from the hydra into a small bottle he had with him.
“Is that… venom from its venom gland?” I asked.
“Bet we’ll find a use for it.”
“Be careful.”
I’d learned a little about poisons from Blood and Gus. They were hard to handle; storing them while preserving their toxicity and making intelligent use of them when needed were both difficult tasks that required proper knowledge.
“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”
Menel was a talented hunter and a warrior of the forest. He knew more than me about how to handle poisons from plants, animals, and beasts, so I was probably worrying for nothing.
“Sorry about that. Let’s go.”
With that, we trekked back to the boat through the bog. Based on their physique and equipment, Al and Ghelreis looked like they were finding it difficult to walk, but I felt as if my situation was even worse, with the weight of the elf over my shoulders pressing my feet deeper into the mud. I used my strength to force my way through. Muscle power came in useful even at times like these. I was so glad I’d trained!
“That hydra…” Al mumbled as we walked. “What a fight that was.” His hands were trembling slightly. Now that I thought about it, that was the first time he’d fought anything so large.
“Absolutely,” Ghelreis said. “We would have been in some trouble had we not fought it together.”
“That old champion Berkeley killed one single-handed,” Reystov chipped in.
“So they say.”
The Berkeley Tale of Valor was an old epic that Bee told from time to time.
In the days when the traces of myth were still common in the world and the evil gods’ minions were prevalent, the name of the wandering warrior Berkeley was spoken everywhere in the ancient kingdoms.
Berkeley served Volt, god of lightning and judgment. He was brave and noble and defeated many monsters, wielding his immense power for the sake of innocent people. However, he had an intense fondness for the pleasures of the flesh, and one day, a twist of fate and the jealousy of a wicked woman conspired to create the conditions for his downfall. In many ways, he was the perfect example of a hero.
“Starting to doubt it now I’ve seen the real thing, though. No one could take one of them down alone… Or, hmm.” Menel turned to look at me.
“What?”
“No, was just thinking you could probably manage it…” All the others turned to look at me with interest, so I decided to give it serious thought.
It would probably be easy if I could blast the hydra with a powerful Word from outside its range. However, it was unrealistic to think that I could spot a hydra living in a marshland of swirling mist and attack it without it noticing. So I was going to have to assume I’d be running into it in the bog itself. I also decided to assume I’d been anticipating fighting a hydra and had come properly prepared with weapons enhanced with fire Signs or something.
If I protected myself with a good magic shield and spent the opening stages of the battle just chopping off as many of its heads as I could, or if I did what Berkeley did and held one of its edgemost necks against my side, using it as a shield so I could be the one dragging the hydra around, maybe it would work out somehow? With several layers of physical enchantment spells and blessings, it would probably be alright.
Of course, given that I would be fighting a hydra alone in a swamp, there would always be a danger of something unexpected killing me. But still, even without considering the dirty trick of pulling out Overeater—
“I think my chances wouldn’t be too bad,” I said.
Menel bent his neck dramatically back to look straight up at the heavens and apologized to Volt for having doubted the accomplishments of his hero.
We all returned to the boat, covered in mud, and loaded our gear into it. At the same time, we laid out sheets and blankets for the still-unconscious elf (whose name we were yet to discover) and wrapped her up in them to keep her from getting cold. Then it was back into the thigh-high mud to push the boat back to the river.
Slowly, the boat began moving again, following the current.
“Hmm…”
“Eck. Mud everywhere. Didn’t realize we were this bad.”
“Ahh! Leeches?!”
“Burn ’em off.”
“I’ll get some water and things ready.”
We’d all undergone a mud baptism, so we used benediction, fairy blessings, magic, and more to get rid of the mud and make ourselves look completely decent again. This was important. If we contracted a disease in a place like this, the word “hassle” wouldn’t come close to describing the problems we would face. I could heal people with benediction, but it would still take time for them to get their strength back. There were even some troublesome diseases that could lie dormant with no visible symptoms for some time and flare up suddenly later.
“There we go.”
Once we were all mostly clean, we finished dealing with the remaining aftermath of the battle. Without a word, Reystov took the helm and kept watch for us.
“So, about this elf.” I took another look at the elf wrapped up in blankets. She had the kind of rich golden hair that I imagined nature’s spirits would like. Her fine-featured face was pale and looked haggard. Her violet eyes were still lowered, but she was definitely breathing.
We had finally reached a point where we could pause for a moment to talk about her. Considering the precedent of the water serpents, it was admittedly hard to call the boat a safe place to be, but it was better than anywhere else. We couldn’t expect anywhere in these dark regions to be completely safe.
“Is she a survivor of the elves?”
“I imagine so.”
“Look, we’re not gonna get far talking without her.” Menel showed no restraint. Saying, “Hey. Wake up,” he tapped the elf on her cheeks, which were like a work of art, hard enough to make a slapping sound. When he saw she still wasn’t waking up, he brought a little bottle containing strong, distilled alcohol up to her full lips and poured it into her mouth without hesitation.
The effect was instant. The blonde-haired elf bolted awake with wide eyes, coughing violently from the liquid’s intense strength. She looked left and right, trying to make sense of what had happened to her.
“Wakey-wakey,” Menel said, grinning like a trouble-making kid. The rest of us had frozen a bit, shocked at the way Menel handled it.
“Wh-What was that?!” she sputtered.
“Woke you up with a spicy kiss. How you feeling, my fellow forest buddy?
Splitting headache? Wanna puke?”
“G-Gods, you’re vulgar! You’re an offense to the ear and an ache upon the brain!”
Though I had healed her with benediction, she was in recovery from a near- death state. She had to be feeling drained, but that apparently hadn’t taken the fight out of her.
“Well, you sound well enough.”
“And… And did you just say… k-kiss? You… You didn’t dare!”
“Calm down. You smooched this bottle.”
She went red to the tips of her ears and railed against Menel in the fastest Elvish I’d ever heard. I couldn’t make it all out with my skill at the language, but I could tell it was a barrage of intense and bitter sarcasm. Menel let it run off him like water off a duck’s back.