Helderal lay in ruins. The houses were ablaze, the children running screaming, the townsfolk were running to and fro, trying to put together the pieces of what they had left, and of what had just occurred. They saw a man float from the sky upon the wings of a beast, of no beast they had seen before, and upon reaching the ground, the inhuman form of he vanished leaving only a mortal being whose wounds wrought him beaten and near dead. What had become of he was nothing more than a skeleton of some former being whose greatness they could not describe, like a flame that had been doused, a candle which had been snuffed. He stood for only a moment before he convulsed into himself and lay still upon the ground. He laid there until she came, only a few moments later, rushing to his aid as soon as she realized it was he in the sky, protecting the them from total destruction; but in their eyes, it had failed. The greater part of the protectorate wall had been destroyed along with numerous houses and dwellings of the people. Helderal was a smoldering bulge upon the earth.
In their eyes, it had been his fault. They held him accountable for all of the damage, and yet praised him not for his deed of slaying.
They cared not for what he did, but what he had been part of. They refused to see that in their haste to blame another, they blamed the only one which had saved their entire town from being demolished.
Cries rang through the streets, with people rushing to the place at which he lay, with whatever they could find at hand to beat the man, to take revenge upon him for doing naught, to hurt him for saving their very lives.
They cared not for the truth, as humans are apt to do. The truth lay hidden behind their fury, behind their ignorance, behind their stupidity. The truth was lost, and would never be found again, for it had never been found at all. Angry insults were hurled at the collapsed figure, not caring that he was almost dead.
�If he is not dead, let us kill him now!� cried a villager. This was followed by a loud cheer which from everyone near that could be heard for distances around. Yet even in their wrath, they could not come close to him, to lay upon a terrible justice; they could not even throw a stone to hurt this artifact, laying damaged on the ground.
�This man is not at fault for what has happened here today. In fact, in slaying that foul beast, he has certainly saved our souls from certain rapture.� A figure clad in grey proceeded through the crowd, the bodies parting like a sea, becoming all at once very quiet and sullen upon hearing her voice. �This man saved your lives. And yet you want to kill him?�
She was met by a silent gaze from the crowd before her.
�But look what he has done to our beautiful Halderal! It now lay in ruins thanks to he!� a woman screamed from the back.
�He hath destroyed nothing in this town willingly. Your presence here alone shows that he hath saved something, someone, worth saving at all. And you want to repay him with a death? The death of he?� She stood unwavering as the crowd began to shuffle their feet and glance away from this woman in grey.
�Just by saving you,� a man spoke softly, �Does not mean he meant to. It could have been coincidence; maybe he set this beast upon our town purposely, so that he could destroy it himself and become great in our eyes. He matches the description of the demon slayer that roams the country side, does he not?� A figure stepped from the masses which had encircled the healer, donned in a cloak of his own, his hood down, showing his handsome face. Golden strands of hair fell upon his face as the setting sun shone upon it and cast a red glare into the eyes of those looking. The blue eyes, complimenting his light hair, were soft, seeking not retribution, but as if they were of a priest that had seen many years of turmoil, and had begun to see the fruits of his efforts. The shoulders broad, filling the inside of his dirty and rusted armor quite fully, with little room aside. The arms were strong, strong from a life of hard, grueling work on the fields of battle. A sword lay at his side, sheathed in a plain metal sheath, but the hilt was of a magnificent jewel and metal one could not forget. His stance was relaxed, as if he could see the outcome of this debate. It was as if he controlled the souls of the masses, and could bend and shape them to his will.
Yet in all this handsomeness, he held a sinister smile.
�This knight must speak the truth!� a woman cried, standing at his side as she grabbed his arm. �Did you see him release this beast from the pits of hell?� she asked, her eyes wide with terror.
�Why yes, I did.� The man could not stop smiling.
The silence was broken by shouts of anger once more, their wrath returning to them. They were not afraid this time to approach, coming ever nearer to the lady and the fallen.
She said only one word: �Halt.�
The body rose slowly from the ground. She picked up the body with her mind, setting it inside a cart nearby. A horse trotted to the front of the cart, as the grey-clad woman put the reigns upon the steed. She leaped atop the horse, and set its motion forward, having said nothing at all. The townspeople parted once more to make way for the procession of a horse, rider, and corpse. A pair of blue eyes looked upon the woman�s back, showing nothing, but feeling disgust.
�She will prove to be a problem.� He turned on his heels as he melted back into the crowd.
~~~~~~~~~~
Opening his eyes, he saw the night sky. A warm fire burned nearby as the scent of herbs and soup wafted into his nostrils, filling his mind with tasteful thoughts. Wanting not to move to betray his consciousness, he looked up, and saw a half moon, not concealing the stars nearby. There was not a cloud in sight to hinder the view of the ocean of stars, a sight to be seen, to be cherished.
Stars twinkled in the night sky, showing not what they were, but what they use to be, in the past, in ages long, long past. They were a grand sight, showing what they use to be. It was a legacy left to the observer to find out, of how a star so bright and beautiful would one day simply cease to exist. These lights were telling him a story of how it grew, grew older and wiser, until one day it simply vanished, in the blink of an eye, with a massive explosion that no one could see, yet all were its audience.
�Be not afraid to stir, good sir. I know of your consciousness, or rather, lack thereof. Pray tell, how is the head throb?� He heard a woman�s voice near the campfire, stirring something with a metal ladle contained within a brewing pot. The twigs and sticks crackled and burned in the presence of their bane, a flame.
�I am as well as I would ought to be, I suppose,� said he. �I know of not how I am come here, or where �here� is, but I despair�� He held his hand to his head, seeking comfort in its pressure. His fingers weak, the created no pressure at all against his skull, no matter how hard he tried to produce, and gave up, exhausted from the effort. �Move not, if one can not.� The healer moved to his side, replacing the cold compress with a new one. She bathed the cloth once more into some water in a pale near the resting body.
�But if one can not move, is one not alive? I have heard��
�You have heard a misconception. In the monastery��
�I care not for what has happened in the monastery. Leave it be, and let the subject alone.�
�Very well, then. A week or two ago, you did not stir through many sunny days and moonless, and sometimes even starless nights. I was the only one who insisted upon your living, seeing as you breathed and did not feel cold. One does not have to move to be alive anymore.�
�And you tell this to me in search of gratitude! However that may be that you have saved my life, that is not the way to��
�No, kind sir: I seek only your respect.� She moved back to the fire, almost forgetting that there was a soup on the fire, seeing the froth at the top. It was quickly subdued by a little water on the fire and a few quick stirs of the ladle. The soup had been saved. �I am sorry that I can only offer you soup, though; I could find no river nearby in which to catch fish.�
�It is just as well,� he replied. He rolled with great effort onto one side of his body. �I would not be able to hold fish in my current state of health.� Remembering, he quickly added: �However did this come about, dear lady?�
She smiled. He, for the first time since their acquaintance, had not called her �woman.� But she held the smile in, wanting to not give away her moment of triumph.
�You do not recollect what happened to the town of Helderal? It is just as well, I would think, that you have not remembered any scene from that dreadful ordeal. It would not be wise to trouble you with such disturbing and dark news at this time, in your recovery. Let us wait a few days, before I shall tell you all that had happened.�
�You shall tell me now, woman!� His anger had caused him pain within, a physical pain which almost made him reel back in agony; but he held in it, as so many years of practice had taught him. His grimace had given all away.
�I shall return with more herbs for your pain. Expect me not long, for the plant is common around these parts. Try not to move so much, if at all; it seems that every movement of any part of your body causes you great pain.� She quickly rose and left in a great hurry, but with no sense of haste; speed without purpose.
He was left there to think about anything and everything as the minutes passed. He peered over at a nearby stream, taking in its slight gurgle as it embedded the sounds within its mind. There were frogs along the bank, making their strange noises as they left to and fro. Splashes of water leapt up from where they began and up once more from where they had landed. A few fish were jumping out of the water, in hopes of attracting some mate. Some had the misfortune of landing on the shore, stranded, left to die without their air. Birds were watching them as they suffered, waiting for the right moment to swoop down and feast. Some fish were even unlucky enough to be caught in the air in their return to the water; some of the birds had learned when to fly down and take one as they jumped for their future mate. There were all sorts of creatures along the bank, insects, birds, fish, frogs; there were a rainbow of colors to be represented. He soon began to hear the chirping of crickets, their ensemble putting an end to the daylight.
He suddenly remembered about the priestess. She had been away for hours. He became worried; what has happened? He did not hear a thing except for the stream� Then he realized that it was all that he was paying attention to; he had forgotten all about the woman and examined the stream from where he was with every ounce of concentration. With great pain, he managed to stand up and lean upon a nearby tree, using its bark as his crutch. The large shining moon was now his only light, streaming in and out of the treetops, casting many dancing shadows upon the ground. He walked around for quite some time before coming upon a small clearing of broken branches and disturbed leaves. There were small animal-like footprints here and there, and he noticed the torn cloth of the priestess�s cloak on some of the branches around him. He looked back down at the tracks, and managed to follow them into another larger clearing. They lead to a point, and stopped. They simply vanished, ending their story telling, disappearing into thin air.
He managed to get to a nearby settlement to gather a small amount of provisions of what he could sell of the herbs she had left. He had enough food and clean water for a month�s journey, if needed. He donned his cloak, his sword, and the bow and arrows that he had recently purchased from the local fletcher and bowman. He inquired about the location of wolves, drawing out his map and making note of where the townsperson had said.
He set out from that small encampment, never to be seen for a long, long time, no one knowing where he went, or what reason he had left for. All they knew is that this man had a purpose, that he was seeking something; no one with this determination could be leaving without a reason.