MrNepathy's Blog

It was a blustery morning in the valley. The storm possessed two qualities beyond all others: wrath and patience. But the wind was far too impetuous rushed out to announce the storm’s impending arrival. Leaves, long dead and trampled since the start of autumn months prior, were kicked up into the air and tossed about in seemingly random swirls.

The acolyte’s robe flattened against his torso and arms, the excess fabric flapping behind him. It would occasionally puff out as a fold caught the wind, giving him an absurd shape. Beside him in old, but well maintained chainmail, the templar looked out at the mouth of the valley.

“How long?” the acolyte asked through chattering teeth.

“Perhaps half a day, perhaps less. They have the wind at their backs. I suppose it is fortunate that we don’t have archers, they would be useless anyway.”

The acolyte tried to smile, but dread seemed to deprive him of the ability.

The templar clapped the acolyte on the shoulder and gripped it reassuringly, “Have faith Brother, we have the gods on our side.”

“And devils as well,” the acolyte remarked as he turned to look up at the abbey. There, perched on the top of the roof like some sort of living gargoyle was a female demon.

The templar refused to look, “The bishop swears she is not evil…” his voice trailing off.

“Yet he refuses to let her enter the cathedral,” said in agreement with the templar’s doubt.

“The other one worries me as well. He is not natural, though he is no demon like I have seen, he is not a holy creature.”

“The eyes…”

“Yes.”

Up on the hill, Garner also looked up at the roof and the demon Elzalyn there. He gave her a polite wave and pointed towards the west. She nodded in return. Her wings opened a little, billowing in the wind. She flexed out the tips and then opened her wings to the maximum span.

The bishop watched her and then looked towards Garner, “We can speak inside, my son.”

“I haven’t had a father for centuries. ‘Garner’ will suffice Bishop.”

“Yes, of course.” An acolyte opened the left door and held it for them.

Garner withdrew his sword from his back, which caused the acolyte to lift his staff. The redeemer looked at the face on the blade, “You’ll wait outside Otroj, keep watch.”

“Why am I waiting outside?” the demon face asked.

“I will not desecrate the church with your presence.”

“Aw, I don’t interfere with your hobbies, if you had any. Is dispatching people a hobby? I suppose cannibalism isn’t a hobby, though cooking could be construed-“

Garner looked at the bishop, “I do not eat people. I don’t eat anything at all.”

“But if he did,” the sword said to the bishop, “it would be people. Tasty, tasty people.”

“See, this is why you are not allowed inside,” Garner said as he stabbed the blade into the dirt.

“I’m sticking my tongue out at you.”

“Noted.”

“So,” Otroj said to the acolyte that had opened the door, “Which is more distracting, the fact that she’s a demon or the fact that she’s a woman? Because as I look around, I see it’s a whole lot of scepters and not a lot of va-“

“Otroj!” Garner interrupted.

“Vases, I was going to say vases. It was a metaphor.”

“Well, don’t say anything.”

“I guess I’ll just play patty-cake. Oh wait, I don’t have hands.”

“Sounds splendid, it should be a nice quiet game then.”

Garner took hold of the door and followed the bishop inside, “I must apologize for my sword, he’s… There are a lot of things wrong with him.”

“As I would expect, with one of his…” the bishop said.

“Ilk? You can say it, it won’t offend me. I’ve called him worse.”

“I was concerned about offending you, I did not know if you were, how should I put this?”

“A demon? I’m not. I’m something else entirely. Just ignore the feet,” Garner said as he lifted his right foot and wiggled his toes, including the one on the back of his heel.

“Yes, I shall endeavor to do so.” The bishop stopped at the altar, bent down and kissed the cloth draped across it. He took a clump of dirt from his robe pocket and crumbled it between his forefinger and thumb. In an exaggerated motion he flicked the dirt around the corners of the altar. “Do you think we can win?” he said as he looked at the altar and the statue behind it.

“Are you asking me or the gods?” Garner asked seriously.

“You.”

Garner shrugged, “I don’t know. I’ve been in worse spots. They’re just bandits, one or two mages with them… some sort of war beast.”

“You seem wholly unconcerned.”

“I’ve been through this many times before. Besides, they’re coming for you, not for me.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“It’s truthful. I will defend you, but my primary motivation is eradicating them.”

“You’re using me as bait then?”

The redeemer shook his head, “I would not be so cruel or careless. This is just a fortunate happenstance.”

“The happenstance being that they want to kidnap me.”

Garner nodded, “That is the one.”

“You have a strange way about you.”

“I suppose honesty is strange.”

The bishop sat down in the first pew and put his elbows on his knees, “I would say it’s refreshing, but at this dark hour, I find it disheartening. I always feel better if I pray, purge myself of my wrongful deeds.”

Garner nodded, “I can give you some peace then.”

“It would be more comforting if we did it together.”

“I don’t pray Bishop, not to men. I commune with the gods directly, not through an intermediary. As for my sins, which are few these last couple centuries, I know the gods watch me. They are aware of my sins as soon as I commit them.”

“That is not the same as speaking of them to cleanse yourself.”

“The woman on the roof, the one you would call a demon, and would be right in doing so. She is my sin.”

“You and she…?”

“No, nothing like that. My heart belongs to another far away. I am guilty of many things, as all men are, but adultery is not one of them. I fought good men that were going to do her harm. They were misguided, but innocent, and I paid a price for it.  But at the time it seemed necessary and even now, I am not sure I did the wrong thing. She has been a great boon to my journey. Where you see evil for what she is, I see good for how she is.”

“Then perhaps we can just pray?”

“You’ll pray for the wrong things.”

At this the bishop lifted his head, “That is a strong accusation.”

“People pray for silly things. Don’t pray for courage. If you know you are going to face the challenge, then you already have courage. People pray to find love. Love is the easiest thing to fall into. It’s caring for it that takes effort and that effort should be splendid. Don’t pray that the gods grant you strength, because you’re as strong as you will ever be, and probably stronger than you think you are. Why pray for guidance when we all know what we should do? We know right from wrong, it does not take divine intervention to see it. It takes the conviction to take the hard road, to sacrifice what we want for what we should want to do. Don’t pray for victory, because they’re praying for victory too. If you are killed in battle it’s not because the gods love them more than you. The noble and the vile bleed the same. Pray for the things you cannot do yourself. Pray for true miracles. What you do, healing people with holy power… that’s true prayer. Pray to turn back a flood to spare a village, to make a dry sky soak the land and water the crops, pray to give the dead rest for they surely need it.”

The bishop nodded after a moment’s contemplation, “Perhaps, but I will pray for courage nonetheless, if not for me than for the others who are about to fight.”

“They seem up to the task,” Garner said. He moved over to a window and looked out at the mountain while the bishop prayed. A century more. Another one hundred years added on to a quest with no end in sight. He knew it had been wrong, he knew Palcor had been right, he would have done the same had he been in their place. The moments played through his head and he rubbed his left hand ring finger, feeling for the simple band there.

At last the bishop rose and joined Garner at the window.

“Maybe I don’t purge myself of my misdeeds because I am already taking my penance. Do you know what I do Bishop? I go from world to world looking for evil so I can cleanse it. I must find the evil where I can. More often than not that evil is brought about by humans or those like them, so I am searching for where some creature of humanity, a creature of culture, intellect and free will, went horribly wrong. Perhaps the point of this endeavor is so that I can see where I went wrong, or to know what small part I took in a greater evil. It’s as if I am eradicating those like me, or what I could have become. My silence, my greed… they were minor compared to what I fight and yet part of it. A piece of sand does not comprise the beach, yet what is a beach but an aggregate of grains of sand? When I find these men and women of evil and strike them down I send them to the very underworld I am trying to avoid. If they are lucky, they will take a one in a million swing like I did and end up on an unending path of turmoil and violence, and become mere visitors to the underworld. Maybe I cannot speak to you and cleanse myself of my sins because I am made to hold onto them, to suffer them and indeed witness them in others. Only by being aware, constantly aware, of my wrongdoings can I continue on this path. It could be I’m one soul in all the worlds that needs his sins kept where they are, or else fall prey to what they have earned me. There’s my confession, should you still wish it. Sometimes, the things I must do while in the underworld… to have free will would be… tremendous…”

“We always have free will, always have a choice,” the bishop said plainly.

“Not always Bishop, but today we do,” Garner said as Otroj showed him the vision of the bandits coming around the curve at the end of the valley.

“And what choice is that?”

“Win or die.”

The redeemer walked through the door and yanked Otroj from the ground. As he did he ran his thumb over the orb in the pommel of the sword. There, swirling amongst the hundred of white specks was a single red speck. The demon took flight over his head, he glanced up at her and then dashed down the hill, slipping between the templar and the acolyte. He gripped Otroj’s hilt with both hands, picked his first target and went to work on the long trek to earn a white speck for this world.