Serenity. That is what I had seen in that moment. The sun in her hair, the moon in her skin, a sadness in her eyes? a purity in her soul. I was captivated in that moment. The room was littered with corpses. My sword and my armor were stained with it. But my mind did not see that. It saw something else. A gateway into the past. Hope. Solace outside of killing. And I knew at that moment that this vision was my salvation, that there was no path to follow but hers and death. I swore an unspoken creed in madness at that moment, to follow serenity to the ends of the Earth, and to protect her always.
My eyes were locked on her. My mind was sent spinning by her. On one plane I saw a sad little girl, looking on at me and my comrades frozen and horrified, her young mind desperate for escape, yet none was given. On another, I saw a distant bliss brought to the forefront of memory by this vision. And on the farthest plane, one entirely separate from reality, I saw an angel to cleanse me of my sins and revive my humanity.
While shrouded in my incoherent musings I caught the sight of one of my compatriots moving towards the girl. I was struck back into reality. I knew very well what would happen to her if she was to be taken by the good men who serve the crown. She would in all likelihood be sold when we made our way back to the capital, and that road is a terrible and sad one. I could not allow it. In one fell swoop I sealed my fate. I drew my sword, and ran the man through, quickly and concisely, making haste to remove my sword from his back so I could attend to my two stunned brothers in arms. Their eyes were filled with shock for a moment, then with fear, and finally with anger. They were men loyal to the crown, stupid, mediocre swordsman, but loyal. Battle doctrine states that any man who slays a brother has committed a deplorable sin, and must be put to death. The larger of the two belched out a forceful, ?Prophet help you Sir, you will die for this.? I did always love how men liked to posture just before they died. It was somewhat sad though, not even stopping to scrutinize the situation, just charging in like the wild dogs they had been trained to be.
They charged at me.
I dodged the attack of the first one, blocking the incoming attack of the second and countering by knocking the man off his balance. I caught the first just as he came in for a low thrust. I pinned his sword to the ground with my own and kicked him dead in the chest, sending him reeling backwards onto his arse, and making sure to arm myself with his blade. The second one came at me again with a heavy overhand strike, poor fool left himself wide open, I skewered him through the gut with his own body weight. I then casually kicked him off my blade, still somewhat alive, and no doubt slowly, painfully, correcting the fact. I ended the conflict swiftly thereafter by silencing the disarmed, disoriented man on the ground with his own weapon.
Then I turned to Serenity. She feared me. Thinking back I must have looked like evil personified in the form of a man. My comrades and I had massacred our way through the keep in our quest to bring Lord Windsor to justice. I was an ominous figure, shrouded in dark steel covered in maroon. But I suppose when all looks grim even a demon can seem like salvation, because when I went to the girl, outstretched my hand, met her eyes with mine and said to her in a most sincere voice much unlike myself, ?I can help you, if you come with me, I can protect you,? her fear subsided some, and she looked up at me, speaking no words, perhaps they were scared away by the monster before her, but somehow probing me with those... piercing green eyes. A child desperately looking for someone to save her? She needed a hero, and I was not one, but perhaps I would suffice.
In that moment came from her, a gesture which seemed so poignant to me, almost soul-shattering in its power, she began to outstretch her small pale hand to meet my dark blood-stained hand. A hand which had brought so much death, hands red with the blood of the innocent an the guilty alike, to be touched by something so pure. But why was I seeing this child as such? It struck me then, my thoughts came together, and her face was connected to the face of my sister? my dead rotting sister, whom another dead boy had cared for so.
The snow white hair, a universal mark of her Legasian heritage, her eyes were that vibrant green I knew so well, and her facial features were the same frail, delicate, childish features embedded in my mind, suddenly revived, when time had ravaged their image. It made me feel? happy, but in a distant sense, as if it was not I who was feeling the pleasant emotion, but someone else, someone so close to me I could feel their joy radiating into me. Yet unlike how my waning memories pictured my long lost sister, her face was so sad, so hopeless? That image cut at me deeper than any blade ever had.
Before her hand reached mine I was stricken by a voice I had come to know by a certain disdain that I could associate with no other. My dear friend, and fellow knight Sir Hollos of Westerfield. He was arrogant and vile, yet dutiful, just another dog, and how I hated him.
?Balstone! Windsor has escaped, stop prancing around, waving your sword like it?s your prick, and get back down here!? a gravelly repugnant voice, lacking any real finesse or pleasant qualities to speak of, came booming up the stairwell, to the back of me and the girl.
Obnoxious fool. I?d wanted to cut his throat since the day I met him, if for no other reason than to shut him up. I wanted to finally indulge that desire, but I knew Sir Hollos, for what little good I could say about the man, he could handle a blade. He was one of the few men I wasn't entirely sure whether or not I could best in combat, and I was not sure I wanted to know just yet.
Sir Hollos came up the winding stone steps to the dim cobblestone room littered with corpses, which had once been a fairly extravagant bed chamber, where me and the girl resided, his armor clanking with each dreaded step, his boot-clad foot carried him over the last step and into our view. He was an unsightly creature, receding gray hair, the unkempt makings of a beard clinging to a weak jutting jaw covered in worn leathery skin, a mouth filled with nothing but broken and yellow teeth formed into a permanent scowl, pale blue eyes, filled with bitter disdain, for what, I never knew, perhaps everyone, perhaps himself. It was all brought together by a battered collection of plate and leather that he would call armor. My friend? I had fought together with him on the battlefield, now we served our king together, called upon to silence a disobedient lord, and how I loathed him.
Clearly he scared the girl as much as he scared me because she was desperately trying to use me as a barrier between her and Sir Hollos, yet making a point to stay a certain distance from me, still not by any means trusting me, yet I believe desiring to. Those eyes of his surveyed the room for a moment, silently assessing the situation, his expression still as if someone had laid a cow pie at his feet. ?What happened to your men Balstone?? he hissed inquisitively. ?Few of them were killed by men that had tried to defend the little lordling.? Our attentions both turned to four men clad in chain and sky blue tabard with a dove holding a golden chalice seemingly soaring across their chests, sprawled out in their own blood, one with his head missing, another with a mace lodged in his breast just missing the dove. My eyes turned back to him, and his locked with mine ?The others? I killed.?
Without pause he drew his sword from its scabbard. ?Let?s get on with it then. We both know how it goes.? He came into a defensive stance watching my movements. I stood at attention trying to find what my next move would be in this predicament I had so readily thrust myself into with no hope for reprieve. ?You know, I never liked the look of you. A little boy looking on at everyone around him like they were no better than the vermin skittering in the shit? Draw your sword so we can see what color your insides are.? His eyes flicked to the girl behind me, and he smiled a ghastly smile. ?Who?s the little cunt?? he said as if amused by the situation. He seemed to think for a moment and then let out a soft chuckle. ?So, that?s it. That?s what gets you hot, Balstone? The demon of Erihall with his smoky grey armor and his blood red raven, has a soft spot for little girls. Well Balstone, I promise when I cut you down I?ll sell her to pleasure house for a few coppers, get me self a nice meal and a woman to wet my cock, and I?ll thank you by pissing on your grave.?
I don?t know why he thought such things would work. I suppose he never knew me to show compassion, and was trying to exploit that, trying to make me stupid. Man was an oaf, his tongue never stopped wagging with venomous drivel, but he knew how to kill, and he knew how to intimidate. That much could be said for him. I needed to kill him, or debilitate him, but I could not die, not yet, not until she was safe. I knew I didn?t have to worry about the rest of the flock. They would stay put for quite some time. Every man who has ever been in Sir Hollos?s service has always been terrified of him. He told them to stay put, so he could come up here and play his games with me. Windsor was probably long gone as is. A coward, left his spoiled boy to die while he slipped out in the night. He should have known, this king was not like his father, he shouldn?t have tried to fuck him.
A new thought came screeching to the forefront of my my mind, shattering all others in the process. It was a cowardly thing to do, but I had no honor, and Sir Hollos was not fast, with a blade maybe, but not with his feet. My armor was a light mesh of studded leather and chain. I had never liked being slow. I was always seeking balance, but Hollos?s armor was heavy, he was my senior as well, by how much, I never cared to remember, but he was certainly older than me. A simple thought, pickup the girl, just run. There was only one way out though, behind Sir Hollos. Merathi spice smoke, I had always kept a pouch on me, it had saved my life once, when my sword snapped in two, almost taking my head off in the process. It gave me just what I needed to gather my head and? improvise.
I knew what I needed to do. I drew my sword slowly, leisurely, and locked eyes with Sir Hollos. ?So this is how it ends?? I said in a macabre matter of fact manner. ?Aye,? he said in agreement. I looked back at the girl, she still looked so scared, so unsure, so vulnerable. I was mad, but it felt nice to fight for something, something other than my own petty need for blood. We charged at each other, sword in hand. And when we met, I did something Sir Hollos didn?t expect. I ducked in for a low thrust, he went to counter it, but then I changed my fighting style from Arturan to Merathi, using a movement designed for a curved blade, but a straight one would have to do. I came into an upward vertical motion, he was taken aback for a moment, but managed to block. I carried the energy all the way through and turned my entire body in a revolution as fast as I could manage, coming back in for another strike, knocking him back some with it. I did it again. I did it once more. And on the fourth a red plume shot from my hand into Hollos?s face, bring him debilitating pain and momentary blindness, while bringing me a gateway.
I looked back to Serenity, and promptly said, ?Come with me? please, if you stay here? bad things will happen,? my voice quivering at the thought, an echo of the past, reminding me what fear was. And what was I? I was a mad man and a killer, exploiting a fearful child, so I could feel? something else, something pleasant, something human. But she wouldn?t die that day, she wouldn?t be a slave. I would defend, not slaughter for my petty bloodlust, but kill so this child may live, one good deed, perhaps that was my true desire, something worth fighting for.
And she came, when I called she came, through fear, delusion, or hope? Innocence possibly. Was I to be her knight on the valiant white stead? Perhaps so. Sir Hollos?s howling was so far away to me, a muddled cry beneath an ocean of much louder sounds, filling my mind to the brim with their echoes. There was something running towards me, something, disruptive, as if the mere sight distorted my distinctions between reality and fiction, a glow, a subtle aurora of white light, a snow-haired child, a frilly dress stained with dirt and blood? No rage, no turmoil, I shall not burn them all, nor shall the earth be stained with maroon, a sudden solace within mind and spirit, an unfamiliar sensation, unbridled in it's ability quell the nameless entities which choose to tear at me ceaselessly... sweet... Serenity... Would you be my guide through the dark?
Feel free to give feedback. I enjoy being told what I did wrong. Makes it easier to improve in the future.
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