Peace
#1 of Short Stories
This one is an important story to me... Enjoy.
He lifted his head just in time for the steel-clad boot to come crashing into his face with the full weight of the mammoth beast that was his foe. There was a crunch, sharp pain, a taste of metal and a dull numbness. Nothing felt right as the smaller warrior fought to his feet, trying to recover only to shudder and fall onto the stone floor once again.
"Rise, Edrin." The large man's voice was as powerful as he was, cold and hard, edged with silent fury. "Rise. I am not finished with you."
The slighter man managed to find purchase on a single knee, hands upon the guards of his sword which held him upright, looking much the part of a penitent knight begging favor of the gods. He tilted his eyes upward as if to regard the beast, built like a bull, clad in armor of nicked and scraped metal. The face of this torturer was rough with unshaven hair, dark and drawn with sleepless nights, more of a tormentor to himself than to others.
"Oh, had we begun?" The beaten man could hardly speak as he smiled with broken teeth, his tongue feeling thick and numb. Spitting the pooling blood from his mouth, a burgundy stain upon the gray stone, he let loose a chuckle that was more a gasp. "I didn't realize. Come, I'll take this more seriously."
His opponent's scowl alone was worth the gallows humor, even if it would cost him a price in flesh and blood sooner rather than later.
***
Ever so familiar the tale, I don't doubt you could all recite it from there without faltering in word or rhythm. You all know my foolish tale, of how he struck me, Edrin the fool, down as easily as the farmer might a calf. Why then did I take my path when I knew it would end in misery? You would know, and I would have you know, not as an excuse for my failings, but as an explanation for them. I do not want forgiveness for my abandon of reason in my venture, merely understanding. After all, isn't that what we all desire in our lowest of times?
How then did it begin? I have heard it told so many different ways. It began with a crime, and injustice done against me, that demanded I take up sword against it. It began with a woman who was taken from me and, as such, broke my heart. It began with a prophecy deeming my fate to this ill fortune. No, I fear it began with me: the only crime against me was my own, the only one that broke my heart was I, and any prophecy that doomed me was one that I uttered unto myself.
***
Edrin never was a wise man. Smart? Yes; too much so for his own good. But wise? Never. It was what brought on much of his misery in youth and later years. He was born into a small township, just large enough to warrant a lord to rule over it, and a militia to protect his lordship and his vassals. Edrin was of plain stock, a simple son of a simple family, destined for a simple life. However, his quick tongue, sharp mind and lack of, shall we say, personable skills made his existence a rather dismal and secluded one. From childhood onward, he would be alone and even decide he wanted to be alone, though that was simply a lie he told himself. A lie that blew away like so much smoke on the wind when he met her... Tehla. For some reason she ignored his cutting remarks, bypassed his cruel words, and refused to leave him to the solitude he believed he desired, for which he would ever love her from then on.
Of course, it was not that easy; many were their troubles, but seemingly infinite was their love. He took her for a wife, took a job in the militia to provide for her and to protect her, only to come home every night and make vows of devotion and adoration like the knights of the tales. She would giggle and call him her fool in tin armor. He would take her into his arms and they would know only the love of each other until the sun rose. Tehla's affections brought warmth to his chill, light to his shadows, and safety to his insecurities. She protected him better than any shield, settled him in the indestructible fortress of her love, and he knew no fears. Yet, for all this, time would prove Edrin all too sensitive of heart.
Once, they passed a man in the market whom Tehla ignored, a flush in her cheeks, only to confess to her husband later that he had been a former lover. Never had he imagined her as having any man in her heart before him, and he felt an idiot for it, but more than that, he felt an unsettling in his own heart. For he had never loved, never cared to love, before he met Tehla, but to think that she not only could, but did love another at some point, shook him far more than he cared to admit, even to himself. It was at that point that Edrin began to lose all that he held dear.
It wasn't merely Tehla's former lover, there were other things. Things that would have meant little to anyone else, but that meant all too much to poor Edrin. A smile towards another man, a harmless flirting, a time spent in the company of friends without him. Were he not such a fool, these small exchanges would not have bothered him, but they did, and somewhere deep inside, without recognizing it, he began to distance himself from her, more and more. Time passed, the distance grew wider. The more she tried to bridge the gap with kind words and warm embraces, the more he gently pushed her away. It came to a point where he all but ignored her and she never knew why or what to do. Was it any wonder that she would seek comfort where she may? If not from Edrin, whom she loved but who would not render it unto her, then from another who would? Should he have been the least bit surprised when she confessed to spending time with another man, of sharing a bed with him in an act of foolishness? These things she told him in order to beg his forgiveness, to try and keep hold of that which seemed already lost. Edrin knew this, but would not let himself believe it. He forgot the love but retained the pain.
***
Despite his state, Edrin was swift and, taking up his blade, lunged the distance between them, slicing upwards in hopes of catching the larger man under the arm where the armor would not protect him. The beast was not as fast, but was more skilled in battle, having fought wars while the militiaman had only a handful of battles under his belt. He deflected the blow and returned it with a solid strike with the flat of his blade to the ribs of his opponent, knocking Edrin back as he grasped at his side and wheezed in pain.
"Do you think you can win?" The beast asked, looming like a tower of steel. Not as clever as Edrin's own quips, but he was mocking, taunting the smaller warrior. "Did you think you ever stood a chance?!"
"About as much a chance as your sister had against all those men who came a-calling late at night." Edrin spoke, doubled over in exhaustion and pain, the air rattling in his chest with every breath. "Tell me, do you know if she at least received coin for her efforts, or did she offer it to all for free?"
A roar told him that his words struck where his sword had failed, the beast charging forward and swinging his sword in a wide arc in his rage. The slighter man blocked it with his own, then grasped the edge with one hand, holding it at bay at the cost of the metal biting into his flesh. The opportunity was not wasted, as he drew his own blade back and thrust it at the massive enemy. The point glanced off his breastplate, adding a new scratch to the old ones, and slid up and over, finding purchase at his shoulder where it drew blood. Edrin's minor satisfaction at this was short lived as his tormentor, incensed further by the wound, renewed the strength of his sword arm. Through skin, muscle and bone the blade tore, slicing clean the fingers from the smaller man's hand, leaving piteous stumps that poured crimson. The fingers fell to the floor, lifeless, as their owner screamed in agony.
***
Tell me, do you think I deserved this? This was not a battle of the ages, not a tale of two knights, one dark and one light. This was not even an execution: it was torture, plain and simple. I suppose we should expect no different, considering those involved, but did I deserve it? If you say no, you are as much a fool as I.
***
Edrin did not send Tehla away, nor accept her back into his heart, could do neither for the mixture of devotion and hurt within him. They kept the same house, remained husband and wife, but were no more together than two prisoners in the same jail. He was quiet, brooding, and spent hours away from home, drinking or wandering, doing anything to be not reminded of the weight upon his soul, but it would not relent for but a moment. It was an affliction he placed upon himself, and he knew it, which made it all the worse, for he knew not how to undo that which he did. It was too much for his fragile self to bear, and from somewhere in the depths of his mind, born of weakness, a little voice began to whisper, telling him this: "If we cannot get everything back, then cut everything away. Leave yourself with nothing, and nothing will pain you." And he listened.
***
"How dare you speak of her as such?!" The beast roared, gazing down with burning hatred at the slight creature kneeling before him, battered and bleeding profusely. "Have you no respect for her left at all, even now?! Is there naught left of you but your black heart?!"
Edrin could only smile. Always that hollow, broken smile.
"This is better than you deserve, but I can suffer you to live no longer." Reeling back, the beast sent a mailed fist into Edrin's face. More crunching, more taste of metal, more of the floor. The monstrous man's shadow covered the small militiaman as he stood over his prey. Edrin looked up with eyes barely seeing, saw the glint of light off the point of the blade just before it was plunged into his gut. It was like a shard of ice, cold and invasive, and he could hardly say that it hurt as much as it robbed him of all warmth. "Spend your time begging the gods for mercy, for this slow death is all you'll get from me."
That shadow disappeared, and Edrin could hear the creak of the heavy wooden door opening. Breath did not come easily, words even less so, but he managed to find them even now. "For our final exchange, know this: ... I, too, wish I had never met her."
***
What comes next is not easy to relate. It pains me to admit it to you now, and there is much that is fled or hidden from my memory. Again, I don't ask you not to hate me, merely to hate me for the right reasons.
***
Edrin had taken it into his mind that if he rid himself of the cause of his suffering, it would rid him of the suffering itself. Foolish Edrin also knew this was a lie, but like many others he told himself, the lie was more comforting than the truth, for in the lie there was hope. Hope for a freedom from this self-inflicted hell. Hope for a new beginning, or even a return to an older existence. Hope for something, _anything_other than what he now lived through. The same horrible fate he forced Tehla, the one that he could neither accept nor refuse, to live through. He resolved to kill the man who had lain with his wife.
It was easy; at the time of her confession, Tehla had imparted every detail at his urging, even the location of this man. At the time she begged Edrin not to exact revenge, he swore not to do so, for he had no desire to have anything to do with he who wrought such foul deeds. Even now, it was not revenge that drove him, but a desperation. When Tehla's former lover returned home from his daily toil that night, Edrin awaited him. The man recognized Edrin as the husband of the woman he had bedded; how could he not? Steel shimmered in the dim light, and the militiaman was upon him.
Late was the hour when he arrived home, bloodstained and seized in furies. Tehla confronted her husband with great concern, asking after the dark scarlet that dripped freely from his clothes and blade. It did not take more than a moment for terrible understanding to dawn upon her, and she spoke the name of the man with whom she sinned against Edrin. The concern in her voice for the illicit lover was maddening. Edrin wouldn't remember when he struck the first blow against his beloved, or how long it was until she stopped crying, but the cold dawn broke when the militia, his former comrades, tore down his door to find him with Tehla's body, staring dumbly at it and then at them. He fled.
***
The small man crawled away from the light, it offended him now. His mangled hand slipped on the stone bricks, painting them scarlet. Left alone to his own anguish once again, he sought only the wretchedness of his own company in the darkness, rather befitting a monster such as himself. The armored beast had gone after delivering the killing blow, not a word more after Edrin's own, left to some better place where people his former brother-in-law, people like Edrin, didn't exist anymore. He found a wall, propped himself against it, and looked up to see that it was the altar of the gods. How cruel fate was, after all, to mock him even now. That was fine with Edrin though, he deserved it, everything. The mocking, the pain, the slow, encroaching death. He deserved all that and more, so let fate mock him as much as it could, he still wore that empty smile.
***
There is nothing you could call me, nothing you can say, no word or weapon you could wield against me that is as much or worse than that which I turned against myself. I wish things had been different. I wish I was not so weak. I wish I could have been a man, but in the end I could only be a monster. You all know how it goes from here, my exploits of terror as I ran, a refugee from law and righteousness. I couldn't tell you why I ran, I wanted it all to end every step that I took. I should have turned my sword against myself, I should have let them capture and execute me, but I was too cowardly, even then.
***
Everywhere he ran, the pain followed. Every face was the face of Tehla and the one whom she sought comfort in. Ever present was the voice, telling him to rid himself of them, and for Edrin's madness, he listened to it still. In his flight, he left a trail of blood, bodies and tears. A year had passed. Death nor soldier had found him. He had outrun them all but not the voice, nor the faces.
***
When I was young, I used to joke that I was my own worst foe, that one of these days I'd stop betraying myself and do what was best for me. So, at long last, I finally did what I said I would. ... I waited, and he found me. I didn't know he would be leading the chase himself. Perhaps it was simply fate that her sibling found me first, or maybe he was the only one left chasing me, but I faced him. Then, only then, did I do something right... I died.
***
He couldn't tell how much time had passed, the light having faded as the sun quit the field of the sky. Cold of night and of death crept into Edrin's body as he lay there, spilling more blood than he thought he even had. Soon it would all be over, soon he would know no more cruelties, soon he would be judged before the three gods and banished to oblivion. Must be nice, oblivion, he thought. _Pure nothingness? That will be a pleasant respite._Another darkness settled over him. One that had nothing to do with the lack of sun. Even now, those faces, burned into his mind. He focused on hers, not as grisly as it was in death, or as distraught and wan as it was in her last months, but bright and smiling as it had been that day he first saw her. Edrin had no more tears to cry, no more breaths to sigh. What could he say, anyway, here at the end of this tale?
***
... I'm sorry.