Even So, I am The Hero: 3/4

Even So, I am The Hero: 3/4

…

“We could make better time if we did not aid this village, Hes. The monsters are gone. Why do this?”

Clara grunted as she picked up a large wagon with one hand, and used the other to attach a nearby wheel to an axle. With one look at the state of iron, she whispered words in her people’s tongue, and it was strengthened. The driver thanked her profusely, while I helped clear it.

“Aye, the monsters are gone, but the people remain and they need help. That’s all the ‘why’ that I need.” Clara sent a weak glare my way, but I offered her a smile while bringing the horses forward and helping the driver attach them to the wagon. The man gave a smile, but it was forced. He looked not at me, but at the village where much work needed to be done. I slipped a hand into my pocket and pressed into his hand a small gemstone from my most recent excursion. “Consider this an investment into the renewal of your business. I will return here one day… and let’s make merry and discuss terms when all is well.”

The man’s eyes, filled with sorrow, became shocked.

Then, it was replaced with determination, and he sped away to the nearest town all the more quickly.

“You could have given him that gemstone without such a deal.” Clara stated with a huff and crossed arms. Her brief use of her people’s power turned the color of her iris gold and her pupil to become a long, sharp ebony line. “I thought you were meant to be generous.”

“Even regular people have their pride, Clara. They don’t need to have a hoard or lived thousands of years. Would you take a gift offered by someone who saved your life?”

“No. I will not be pitied.” Her answer was swift and a growl nearly left her lips. She crossed her arms and gave a grunt instead. I laughed and gave a small nod. She smothered her irritation with a huff. “I see. It is a goal. No. You’ve given him something live for, along with a push ahead. How cunning.”

“I didn’t think that far. I just did to him what I’d wish to have done to me if in his place.” I told Clara and mentioned for her to follow. This time she did not scoff as we neared the village. “Why don’t you try it? You’ll see more benefit from it than me. Give the right amount to the right people, and when you return here one day, you’ll be treated properly.”

“Hmph. I doubt any here will be able to treat me as a king would.”

“Kings do that to curry your favor and seek out your power or your body. The people here will be repaying you. You can glut yourself on meals without worry.” I teased her and she huffed. But she turned to the people and began searching them for potential. “Just remember that you’re helping them up. Not exploiting them.”

“I would not shame myself with such actions. Never.” Clara stated with a growl, before moving forward towards the town, and finding a blacksmith already at work. Her eyes brightened at the sight. “This one’s potential is mine!”

She moved swiftly onward, and left me to walk alone.

The moment she left, at the corner of my vision, I saw a hooded visage in the corner of my eye lifting a pale hand towards rubble.

I moved immediately to heed the call, as the figure in the edge of my vision faded.

It was a destroyed stone hut in the outskirts of the town. A fence of wooden sticks was fallen in every direction. Packed dirt surrounding little rings of stone with broken trellises and supports for plots of vegetables. A broken windchime lay on the ground, and the hut itself was destroyed with all that was within it. The scent of death clung to the place, informing me that the inhabitant perished within, and none so far had come to give them peace.

I moved around the broken building, before finding what I sought.

A small shrine dedicated to another.

“To my beloved husband, may I join you after the passing of time.” I read the inscribed words. It was a stone shrine with wildflowers at the base. A carved, wooden effigy of a man was laid upon it. Recently-made and well-varnished. A stool sat close to the shrine and a small carving knife was just a few feet away. “I see.”

This was the home of someone who waited to live out their days.

Someone ostracized for their love by the whole of the village, but who still persisted through the years.

It would be a tragedy for them to not join their loved ones.

I clasped my hands together and bowed my head.

“Oh, Goddess of Death and Peace, heed my mourning prayer. I pray for the soul of this mortal who perished. Let them find peace in their passing.” The prayer was familiar to my tongue. Even with all my efforts since my new beginning, there was many I could not save. All I could do was make sure they reached my goddess and was judged. “May they reach your tranquil shores and find you there waiting to guide them to those who await them.”

My words reached her and a soft breeze came across the destroyed home, but before I left I took up the carving knife and found another block of wood.

Clara had much to say about me leaving her to support the townspeople on her own.

Still, I felt it would’ve been in poor taste to leave the small shrine with only one figure.

For some death is a new chance to try once more after paying their penance.

For others, life is the final challenge before they join those who went on ahead.

“May you rest in peace.”

With those final words, I moved to locate the body and give whomever I found a burial.

It was the least I could do with all the strength that was blessed upon me.

…

Interlude: Silvian, the Elven King

…

“Where is she?”

“In the first cell past the doors, my lord.”

“How many others know?”

“None who will retain their memories of the last day, my lord.”

“Good. You are dismissed. You honor me through your sacrifice and will be well-rewarded.”

“Farewell, my lord.”

I moved through the stones of the guard tower and found the woman I sought behind bars of iron.

She held her hands in prayer and her head was bowed, while kneeling in the moonlight filtering through the window of the cell.

Her blade was on her cot, but she was dressed in rags, instead of the fineries befitting her station.

The greatest of our kind to ever walk the path of the warrior was debasing herself, and I had to restrain my fury at the sight.

The gods have their realm, and they should be honored, but supplication was beneath us.

Still, I held my tongue and waited until she stood up from her prayer.

She turned to me with a gaze cast in shadow and wild-matted hair.

Even in rags, she was a creature of beauty and grace that blessed that all that looked upon her.

A living god of war.

“Thea, explain yourself. Why have you abandoned your post?” She was the mistress of the northernmost, frigid lands. A region of frost and conflict where the greatest monsters of the world roamed and where the misbegotten and forgotten tread. There, she carved a path with her sword for our people. Not a path of wealth or even glory, but for the future of dominion over all that is known. “What fell mood has taken you to do this to yourself?”

If madness answered me, or even if silence answered me, I was prepared.

Instead, her voice left her lips clearly and crisply, as elegant, and as refined as I heard upon my coronation.

As my father, grandfather, and great-grandfather did.  

“This is penance for a grave sin. If it is not done, then upon my death there will be nothing but eternal emptiness for me.” Concise, logical, and cold. She stood before me in the moonlight and was nearly aglow in the pale radiance. Past the shadow that covered her gaze, past the ragged silver bangs, were argent eyes that remained sharp and sane. “Do not peer upon it, your majesty. Leave me and permit to be free.”

Hesitation threatened to grip my heart at her words, but I summoned the courage to peer at her soul.

A moment later I found myself against the wall opposite of her cell, covered in sweat, and trying to scramble into solid rock in my attempt to flee.

To flee from the immense, horrific sin weighing down upon her.

It was the size and scope of a mountain and filled with malevolence. Not even the most heinous of curses of my wildest delusions could compare. What was chained to her, what was threatening to pulverize her very existence into nothingness, was the purest and deepest hatred of a divine being. Even a fragment of a fragment of the thrumming, ebony mass of sin would break the spirit of an average being. The fact that the oldest of my people known to history stood and carried it was a miracle in and of itself.

But that was not the end of it.

I could feel that it was trying to escape her.

Trying to free itself and be released upon all my entire nation.

“Why!? What have we done to deserve this!?” I shouted and knew that the Goddess of Death was near. She was everywhere where there was shadow. Always there to guide those who perished away. Some called her the ultimate form of justice and equality. Many even amongst us believed in her. Yet now I looked upon a curse ready to shatter our nation. “Tell me!”

The answer came as a whisper to my ear and it broke me.

I fell back and slumped against the stone wall with only the greatest of my race standing before me.

Something between a gasp and a dead laugh left my lips.

“Kill him and retrieve the blade. The mortals have had their chance. The next one to best the Demon Lord will be of our people.” The words I uttered still felt fresh upon my lips. The sight of the horizon blackened by armies of monsters lay heavy in my mind. I knew why I gave the order. Why I bid to have the hero killed. “They already abandoned him. It is time to end this farce and spare no more time raising and support the next ourselves.”

I ordered her to do it.

When she refused…

“I invoke your oaths, teacher! All your oaths! Grant the struggling mortal mercy and return to us!” She may have swung her blade, but it was by my command and by my authority. How many binding oaths did she swear to my people across countless centuries? To protect and serve the people. Each one was leverage against her very being. Oaths of loyalty to the most blessed of peoples. Oaths worth bearing with pride. I invoked them all and threatened to break her body, mind, and spirit. “Return the blade!”

She swung her blade at her student.

She set him alight and cast him into a deep pit after piercing his chest where she thought his heart lay.

Then, she returned to us, the greatest of our people, and died at the foot of my throne with the hero’s blade in her hands.

Wasted away into nothing after a long journey bereft of any will for herself.

I looked at her and she matched my gaze.

I could barely match her gaze.

Despite all that I’ve done, she was willing to bear those sins still.

To accept that what she did was by her own hand.

Not for my sake, but for the people.

I searched myself for what felt like an eternity, before standing before her.

My lips trembled and my hands shook, while my heart raced in my chest.

Yet.

Somehow.

I spoke the words that I knew needed to be said.

“Those sins you carry are mine.”

The weight of those words brought me to my knees in an instant. It took all that I had to keep my skull from crashing against the stone. My chest felt as though it was cracking and every bone in my body seemed to fracture at once. Every hollow recess in my body gave me a gnawing, clawing sensation akin to hundreds of gnashing teeth, eating my insides. Blood dripped from my nose, while bile and acid left my stomach.

However, all that physical pain could not compare to it.

There were words, recriminations, and even an attempt to help me, but I felt nothing, heard nothing, and gained nothing.

The pressure on my very soul was immense and I could feel my will to continue living slipping away. Every fragment of consciousness I retained told me to let go. To stop holding on. My convictions, my pride, and all my joys were but faraway ideas bereft of meaning. Not even rage or even hate could stir any emotion in my heart. All that I felt was the urge to let go and collapse.

But I could not.

If I failed and faltered now, then this sin would be passed on to all my peoples.

If I could ask for my teacher to kill her final student for my people, then I can ask of myself this.

I could no longer see, nor hear, or summon any sensation.

Still, I reached out and spoke with what little strength I had left to the only one who could hear me.

The one who placed this sin upon me the moment that I accepted it.

“See to her.” That was all I could muster, as all my focus surged towards carrying the burden. I could no longer recall her face. Her name. Nor even what I thought of her. Everything was dark. Everything was weight and pain. I gave everything I had left to say what needed to be said. “The fault is mine. Not hers.”

With that I could do no more than try and survive.

Survive and last for my people, so that they would not shoulder this weight.

Hold fast.

Survive.

Even for just one more second, I would give everything that I had and more.

Until there was nothing left of my sin for my people to bear, I would carry it all.

That was my purpose now.

I bid the chosen of the gods killed, yet still he returned to save my people.

I could do not less than this.