swordsremorse

Sword's Remorse

Dusk's shadows feasted upon the dying sunlight.

Eryna was ready.

By day, the circle of stones seemed innocuous to passers-by; it was frequented by lovers seeking an out-of-the-way place for intimacy. The truth was unseen, buried beneath the earth. The stones used for unholy sacrifices to dark gods, the very ground corrupted by evil. The beautiful, sweet-smelling flowers picked as tokens of love were nurtured by the blood of innocence, thriving upon the broken bones of tortured victims.

Evil could have such a sweet face. The paladin Eryna was disgusted to constantly find the most lovely visages upon warped and depraved souls. The hypocrisy blessed her with righteous rage. Each time she investigated strange happenings, she naively hoped she was wrong in her perceptions, that she would find that things were not so twisted.

So far, this had never happened.

The lovers later became infused with the ambient darkness of the circle. The seeds of sin erupting into the fruit of malevolence. Love perverted to hate. Trust distorted to suspicion. Affection deformed to malice.

Eryna could not reverse what had already happened, but the source of this evil she would vanquish this night. No more would this perversion be, she vowed, kissing the flat of her blade ritually.

"Blade, be true this day."

Night engulfed her as the sun took flight. Eryna advanced towards her enemy, at Evil's strongest time. Her faith, her conviction, her belief, were Eryna's sword and shield against the legions of the damned; the bright metal just gave them shape and form.

Eryna was ready. She would not be denied.

"You really don't think you'll win, do you? I have all the advantages, little fool. Your pathetic god cannot help you upon this desecrated land. Gaze upon the demon I have enslaved!"

The Hell-borne necromancer threw back his sable cloak to reveal a grinning imp perched upon his shoulder. As Eryna took in the tableau through her divine sight, she saw that while the imp seemed small within her world, its true Hellish form was much greater: this was no small fiendling in thrall!

The demonic minion of darkness looked at her through reddened orbs, a slow smile rippling across its bestial face. Eryna knew how the demon was using this upstart as a conduit for its limitless evil. Bound by strictures binding the universe from its creation, celestial forces were unable to affect the corporeal world directly, but the demon had found a loophole; a puppet within this fool who had so gleefully sold his soul.

Looking at the ugly hunchback, Eryna could almost tell the story of his life. Unable to work normally, outcast from the community, he had taken a road to avenge himself upon his former tormentors. Now he no longer needed the demon's cajoling; he happily spread evil upon the land.

But no more: it ended tonight.

Within this dark pit of night, she would be the cleansing light, chasing the shadows back to their holes under the earth.

She raised her sword to the sky, thunder smashing down around her, a herald of mayhem. Incandescent bolts of lightning struck crackling down her blade, imbuing it with a bright blue nimbus of might.

The twisted sorcerer drew back, but rallied quickly. "Ralishaz, my servant, attend me! Raise your unholy slaves to do my bidding!" From the earth burst forth the decayed corpses of bloody sacrifices, innocents in thrall to darkness.

Avoiding the clutching dead hands of these Hell-spawned undead, Eryna bashed them aside with her glowing shield, shattering their bony forms with her shining sword. She could not hope to defeat these bone marionettes; they were merely material form clothing animating infernal energies, she had to strike at the heart of darkness. Striding quickly and adroitly through a maze of grasping skeletal limbs, this holy warrior, a single ray of light against the consuming darkness, approached her enemies.

The demon was ablaze with rage, throwing darkly glowing balls of pure Hellfire towards Eryna. She felt the searing heat as she narrowly dodged them. Right into the sickening emerald blobs streaking forth from the necromancer, the green slime splattering upon the bright steel breastplate, hissing as it crawled purposefully between the chinks in her armour.

Acidic poison invaded Eryna, nerves afire with agony, stumbling slightly as she gritted her teeth against the pain. As she sought her equilibrium, a spiralling sphere of demonfire caught her across the ribs, turning the fine steel of her breastplate into metallic mist, searing her side, as the smell of roasting flesh enveloped her.

Eryna did not have time for pain. Quickly laying a hand upon the wound she concentrated briefly; a golden glow suffused her fingertips as the wound pinkened and healed.

Momentary respite, and then she charged forward once again, splintering through the macabre horde of skeletons betwixt her and her ultimate adversary, the Hellbound conjurer. Raising her sword above her head for a fight-finishing strike, Eryna smote as if a divine thunderbolt blasted down from the highest heavens.

As the sword quivered, the shock reverberating down her arms, Eryna kicked herself mentally for being so stupid. She hadn't considered that her foe might have used his magicks to protect himself. He was invulnerable to her blows, shielding spell sparking viridian where she had struck.

Or was he so safe? Eryna's sharp eyes spotted a patina of cracks spreading over the shielding where she had hit. While the hunchback's mocking laughter assailed her in tandem with roaring flames and poison ooze, she hammered repeatedly at the same place, seeing the cracks in the shield craze out and widen.

The arrogant look froze on his features as the sword sliced him in twain. As the two halves of the dead hunchback fell to the ground the imp adroitly jumped to the grass nearby, the clattering of dead bones in its wake, as the eldritch energies fled their broken shells with a tortured shriek.

The little minion of Hell watched Eryna carefully. "Do not interfere, holy harlot! The human made a deal with me; the power of dark necromancy and myself as his 'servant' for his eternal soul. Entered willingly without duress. All legal, no escape. He is ours now, for eternity. His fate is sealed!"

With her holy vision Eryna saw the soul of the dead hunchback, pleading desperately for her to somehow release him from this infernal compact. But she could do nothing. As the demon had declared, his fate was sealed, he had made the choice of his own volition; she had no pity for him.

The imp pulled out a thick pile of parchment, marked with glowing crimson sigils. As it chanted syllables in its sibilant dark speech, ruby tendrils leapt out and enwrapped the damned soul, confining the ephemeral form within the condemning document. Tracing a scorched circle in the grass with a flaming finger, the demon ripped a hole within the fabric of the world to its inferno home and dropped the contract through the burning orifice. As it did so, the tormented screams of Hell's slaves escaped from the depths. With a finger snap it shut, cutting off the cries abruptly.

The demon's twisted language were words of shadow and suffering, the language Eryna spoke were words of radiance and respite. A brilliance rose up at the edges of the circle, tightening towards them both in the epicentre. The triumphant demon broke from its gloating to see this encroaching sanctity. There was no escape. The sin of arrogance and pride, hubris; had doomed the infernal minion to its fate, an agonizing exorcism, returning the defiler from whence it came.

The captured imp sneered at Eryna. "Foolish mortal, you have won this battle, but not the war! Know that you have banished me for just a time, witless godwhore! I SHALL RETURN!" The circle contracted with an unholy screech of pain from the demon as it was forcibly sent back to Hell.

Eryna breathed deeply of the chill night air. She could sense serenity creeping in. The stone circle had been cleansed of corruption. She saw the souls in bondage released from Hell's clutches, crying their thankfulness as they departed into the beyond. She felt a warm glow within her heart that she had been one with her purpose, her profession, her life. She had met the darkness against all odds and she had conquered.

Inspecting the newly cleansed area, Eryna almost stumbled over a large, black, velvet sack. Her mind flashed quickly with what a necromancer might carry, and it was not pleasant. But there was a faint movement, as if something within breathed faintly. Carefully opening the drawstring, Eryna unwrapped the contents slowly. The girl within was no more than fourteen summers; eyes squeezed shut tightly, tear streaks apparent on her face. She was almost rigid with terror ... what sights had the girl witnessed within the necromancer's clutches!

The paladin whispered softly "Don't worry, you're safe now. Everything is fine. I'm Eryna ... what's your name, dear?" The child opened her eyes slowly and attempted to stammer out something. Gulping nervously, she finally managed to say "Jessica. My name is Jessica."

After this initial release, Jessica lunged towards Eryna, hugging her and unleashing torrents of tears in relief. Prying the girl carefully off the bright steel armour, the paladin held her close as they settled down to sleep, Eryna stroking Jessica's hair tenderly until the child was sleeping peacefully.

At dawn Eryna set out again, riding her mount and companion, Silverheels. Horse and maiden had met and connected when Eryna was only a child, and Silverheels only a filly. They had known at the outset, at the first meeting that they shared a kinship, a common purpose. In some ways, Eryna thought that Silverheels was her sister, not her servant, not a beast of burden, the keenness of two alike.

Jessica was much brightened the morning after. The novelty of a ride on a beautiful horse like Silverheels did much to improve her spirits. Sitting forward in the saddle, just behind the pommel, Jessica happily stroked Silverheels' flowing mane carefully, as Eryna rode towards the girl-child's hamlet. The paladin listened to the almost-woman speak of her dreams of the future, (which now had altered to be a heroic paladin on a beautiful horse!) and the events that had affected Jessica's short life. Eryna's mind drifted back to her own childhood, her parents dead, leaving her to fend for herself. It was something that the Church's orphanage had taken her in, sheltered her, fed her; and when she had thought herself ready, trained her to be a warrior of Light, a holy avenger.

Eryna wished she could have a child as darling as Jessica one day, but the paladin regretfully knew that she was first married to the Most Holy, that any relationship she had could be exploited by the forces of darkness. Her purpose made her heroine and outcast at the same time.

As they approached the village that Jessica called home, Eryna's hackles rose, something was watching them. Under the shade of a large, weeping willow on the outskirts of the hamlet stood a hunched figure, eyes gleaming redly in the gloom. What was this creature skulking so close to these hard working peasants? Athletically dismounting from Silverheels, she lowered Jessica to the ground and stalked towards her prey.

As she drew closer, she saw that this silent watcher was a gnoll, the savage hyenalike humanoids that gleefully and greedily held all land they could control with an iron fist. They willingly entered dark pacts with the underworld, gaining diabolic power thereby. Such was the compact the hunchback had literally sold his soul for. Seeing the lack of weapons and armour upon the gnoll, she imagined that this one had eschewed the path of war, embracing the path of dark magic.

Eryna could see it smiling at her ... what unleashed evil had caused this Hellsworn happiness? Whatever it was, it ended now. She was judge, jury and executioner. Drawing her gleaming blade in one smooth motion, Eryna's sword caught the sun as it flashed down towards the gnoll. Its smile vanished as it attempted to speak last words, terror alight within its eyes.

Too late.

Even separated from its body, the gnoll's head still bore that last expression of fear mixed with shock. Good had triumphed yet again. As Eryna wiped the sword clean with a rag, black blood soaked into the cloth, when she noticed a black stain remaining upon the blade. When she saw the darkness spread up and down the blessed metal like some steel infection, Eryna had a sinking feeling rise within her soul. Something was very wrong.

Eryna shifted the gnoll's body slightly and a medallion fell from its neck. A medallion emblazoned with the symbol of the Most Holy, a twin to the medallion around Eryna's own neck. Clutching tightly the metal disc, Eryna grew numb with realization.

Jessica screamed at her, anger and sadness mixed hopelessly together as she let loose her pain at Eryna. "Why did you kill Brother Garash? When the blue cough came in the winter, he helped my brother Timmy and me get better. When Tom the lumberjack had his accident, Brother Garash healed his leg and Tom could walk again! At Yule Brother Garash used to do magic tricks for everyone, it was so beautiful ... and now ... he's GONE. Because of YOU!"

During Jessica's tirade, Eryna woodenly looked through the gnoll's possessions. Methodically reading through correspondence signed by the Bishop of the diocese, her superior. Jessica continued her attack. "To think I wanted to be like you when I grew up! First I thought you were nice, but maybe you are just like that man who took me to the circle ..." her voice trailed off, eyes shifting and Eryna knew that the poor girl was reliving those memories of her capture. Eryna felt a new jolt of anguish for hurting the child again, and out with a hand to comfort her, but the girl twisted and flinched away from it as if from a viper.

With one final, betrayed look, Jessica fled towards the hamlet. Eryna could not blame the girl though, feeling the rejection keenly within her shattered heart, but she understood why. Here she was, the supposed noble champion of the innocent, defender of the weak, who had slain a weak, innocent healer in cold blood.

She fell to her knees and wept.

She saw her dead-black sword, the mark of her sin and thought of ending her misery with one quick thrust. But that would be the easy way out - her evil would go unpunished, go uncleansed. She had to confess, and atone for her evil.

Sheathing her symbol of shame within its incongruously bright scabbard, Eryna leadenly mounted Silverheels and set off on the painful journey home. As they progressed, Eryna felt the guilt pressing down upon her shoulders and she replayed the damning scene over and over again in her mind's eye. As she reflected more and more, her sadness reverberated like thunder upon thunder. She knew she had to make amends, somehow, before she lay down and died.

The Bishop, as one would expect from a man in his position, was understanding. "My child, you are mortal. To err is part of that mortality. It is truly regrettable that Brother Garash died, and he cannot be replaced. As can no one. We are all special in the eyes of the Most Holy." The old man sighed deeply, small tears at the corners of his eyes, although his gentle voice was strong, never faltering. "He shall be missed by us all, we shall mourn his passing from this world to the heavens above. However, what is done, is done. Repent for your sins, my child, and the Most Holy will absolve you."

Within the confines of the temple grounds, Eryna repented her sin for days, to no avail. Her guilt still bore down upon her, a great weight she could not lay aside. But she could stand it no longer. Entering his sanctum, she approached the Bishop, kneeling upon the dirt as he tended his garden. "My father, I must do SOMETHING. Something to make up for the horror I committed or I will never be at peace with myself."

Sitting back on his heels, the Bishop rubbed his chin thoughtfully with an earth-stained hand. "My child, in earlier times, before we had the government, courts and code of laws we have today, there was another way deaths were settled. The custom of werguild, whereby the deceased's family was paid a sum as recompense for their loss."

"But you cannot put monetary value upon someone's life!" Eryna protested vehemently.

The Bishop agreed with her. "Of course, we live in much more enlightened times. However, ask a foul slaver whether there is monetary value in a life; they can give it to you to the last copper penny. Perhaps the gnolls are similar. Perhaps they will accept gems, which they treasure, for the life of their kinsman. I do not know. But there is only one way to find out, if you have the courage. His family will not come out of their subterranean lair to greet you with open arms. You must penetrate within. I have maps that show you the lair's location, but it would be difficult even for an army to force their way in. There would be a very real chance of your death without success. Are you sure, my child, that you wish to go through with this?"

Slowly drawing her blackened blade, Eryna proffered the weapon carefully to the Bishop. "My evil surrounds my spirit like a tarnish upon metal. I cannot be a paladin with this taint upon my soul. I am already dead. But if I succeed, I shall live once again."

The fallen paladin soon set out, having gathered together all her items of value, besides the minium for her profession. After selling them, she had a very fine selection of jewels, and less than all she could afford Eryna thought would not be enough.

She arrived upon Silverheels (whose bright silver horseshoes had been sold and replaced with dull iron), at the gnoll lair as the sun began its slumber. Preparing for her task, already missing the powers and blessings her paladinhood had bequeathed her, now gone. Knowing that her fine steel plate armour and her fair hair would catch the light within the gnoll's demesnes, she reluctantly packed the black, sticky, river mud upon both of them, streaking her cheeks with dirt, the perfect camouflage within the black burrow.

Bending slightly, mimicking the hunched gait of the average gnoll, Eryna snuck past the sentinels, keeping to the shadows. There seemed to be some sort of revel going on within the burrow, so she took advantage of the event, moving swiftly through the burrow, looking at the clan and family banners to finally find the dead Garash's kinsmen.

Entering the cavern slowly, Eryna took in her gloomy surroundings. A grizzled, yet still proud male was the obvious patriarch, and the gnoll with whom Eryna had to settle the werguild. Drawing close to the firelight, the repentant skulker cleared the mud from her face, her pale yet still dirty skin apparent.

The patriarch was no fool. To reach his position, a gnoll needed strength of will and keenness of mind. Thankfully Eryna could get by in the gnoll tongue, as he accusingly addressed her. "You are not gnoll. You are on our land. Why are you here?" The fallen paladin half-expected him to sound the alarm immediately, but it seemed he was interested in parleying with her. His yellow eyes, tinged slightly red in the firelight, showed suspicion mixed with curiosity, but thankfully no anger, no hate.

Ashamedly, she announced her actions "Know that your kinsman Garash, was murdered in cold blood by my blade." Eryna could not meet any of their unblinking gazes. "I have come for offer recompense for my wrongdoing."

She opened the pouch slowly, the glittering blood-price shown to all. Muttered conversation spread through the assembled relatives. Some consensus was obviously reached as the patriarch approached Eryna. "We accept. The debt is settled. We mourn his loss, though many would have seen him merely as a possession, a tool to use and discard when no longer useful. We are always seen as strange for this by the othe