Wordlessly, I hauled the dead Tengu over and stacked them one on top of the other. They were small creatures, and I would not have had too much trouble carrying them normally. Now, however, I found I was able to lift them as if they were made of empty sacking.
Cara watched, her eyes wide, as I picked up seven of them at once and walked steadily over to the pit. I returned and took ten over this time, five in the crook of each arm. Two more trips, and there were no more dead Tengu on the battlefield—they all lay next to the pit we had dug with our magic. I turned to the enormous body of the troll.
When the Festering had worn off, the troll had returned to his normal shape. He was headless now, but his body, at least four times the size of mine, lay peacefully, still clutching his gigantic stone club. I took a breath, rolled my shoulders and approached him.
“Surely he’s too heavy,” Cara said, and I could hear the challenge in her tone.
“You don’t think I can do it?”
“I think you could, but we wouldn’t want you straining a muscle. We have a long quest ahead of us, you know.”
“I won’t be straining anything,” I said, although I couldn’t help feeling a little unsure as I looked down at the massive creature.
I crouched and put my arms under the great carcass of the monster. Then, with an effort, I hefted it upward and stood. To my surprise, and to Cara’s delighted amazement, the enormous dead weight of the slain troll came up from the ground. It was heavy, certainly, but it didn't feel heavier than lifting another man would've been.
Carefully, I walked over to the pit, and tipped him in. Then, with no more effort than I would've had to expend if I was lifting rocks, I pushed all of the Tengu in as well. The pile of dirt we had blasted from the hole sat next to the edge of the pit. Using a plank which remained from the wreckage of the shrine, I pushed the whole pile into the pit. It took a little bit of doing, but soon all that remained of the hole was a mound of freshly turned earth.
I dusted off my hands.
“This Persona’s clothing is good for fighting, but it’s a little tight for this kind of work. I wonder if it has another aspect, the way the Ironside Persona does?” As I spoke, I reached for the Shinobi Persona, looking for a non-combat aspect which went alongside the Shinobi robes. Immediately, the Persona responded. There was a cool feeling, like stepping through a curtain of falling water. When I looked down, I was dressed in beautiful robes of charcoal gray, cinched at the waist with a belt of brown leather.
In style, they reminded me of the robes which the man in yellow had worn, yet they were of a better weave. I held my arms out and turned slowly, displaying the new outfit for Cara.
“Show me the footwear,” she asked, laughing. I lifted the loose trousers to display my feet, clad in high brown boots of supple leather.
“That’s good,” she said. “It suits you, but I’m not sure I’ll want to wear that when we work out how to share Personas.”
She spoke lightly, but I frowned. “I don’t think it works that way. I think... it’s not entirely clear to me but I think... I’m almost certain that if you take on a Persona, it will manifest differently, suiting your character, as it were.”
Cara took a breath to speak, but she was interrupted by a voice from away toward the wreck of the shrine.
“Well,” the voice said, “you are by far the most remarkable warriors I have ever seen.”
Chapter Nine
Cara and I both turned and looked to see who had spoken. The yellow-clad man we had rescued from the Festering was crouching beside the old man and the old woman, the two others who had been afflicted by the evil force. The man in yellow was a wiry fellow in his mid 50s, broad across the chest and shoulders but shorter in height than me or Cara. Gray peppered his black hair and beard.
Now, he rose stiffly and bowed low before me. To my eyes, this was not a normal gesture; no person bowed to another in Saxe, for it was the lowest gesture of subjugation. I bit back my protest, however, recalling the difference between our cultures.
I am the outsider here, I reminded myself.
That didn’t stop me from holding out a gauntleted hand to him once he had finished his bow. He looked curiously at me for a moment, then seemed to instinctively understand the gesture. With a wry face, he reached out and clasped my hand in his.
Cara, who had watched our interplay with a smile that spoke of suppressed laughter, turned her attention to the old man and woman who had been afflicted by the Festering. She went over and started administering some of her potions to them.
“My name is Toshiro,” the yellow-clad man said to me.
“I’m Leofwine,” I replied. “But you may call me Leo. The beautiful woman attending to the elderly man and woman is my companion and fellow warrior.”
“I have traveled to many places and seen many strange things, and you two are by far the strangest. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your intervention. I dread to even contemplate what would have become of me if you and your companion had not arrived.”
Toshiro had a soft, precise way of speaking. It made me think that he was a man who would not say or do anything carelessly. He looked me up and down with a very perceptive eye, taking in my armor’s huge steel plates enamelled in white, my shin guards, my gauntlets, and the mysterious runes engraved on my armor.
As I watched him examining me, I realized that some explanation of
