The Grim Legion

by Kindred Ult

  "I refused, of course, but he insisted, and so I accepted. Within the hour, we were leaving, but by the time we were halfway there, I received word that my men were almost defeated. By the time we reached them, only a handful were left, but they had done well. Our combined remaining armies had smashed through the undead, sieged and penetrated the castle, and fought our way to the necromancer himself, who was just then attempting to break into our highest chamber, which the last survivors were defending with their lives. We killed him, and retook our castle." He seemed to pause, as if waiting for a reaction.

  Brand nodded slightly. "I remember this. I was at that battle, and many of both of our men were lost in it. It was a tragedy, but a necessary one, in the end."

  The Paladin Commander nodded as well. "And my order will forever be in your debt. But all of this is to relate a very special event that happened during our final battle with the necromancer that none besides myself knows. E died that day."

  The words rocked Brand even harder than ever before, and his eyes narrowed in disbelief. "What?"

  The Paladin Commander swiftly continued. "Yes, he died that day. We led the charge through the armies of the undead together, and while I have my great armor, he always wore only his leather armor. There were monstrosities I had only dreamed of, and beasts and skeletons of beasts that made men shake with fear, but we battled all of them and vanquished them on our way to the highest point in my keep. He battled the necromancer with only myself as backup, as all others were either stuck in one of our many rooms or out on the battlefield being swamped by the enemy. All around him that day, and especially myself, were amazed by him, and I will never forget the moment that he beheaded the rogue with his sword, when all of those skeletons vanished from this earth. What he had not shown, until that exact moment, was that numerous wounds had been scored upon his body.

  "None beside himself and I could have noticed the countless times he must have been hit, and he hid it all, without showing the least bit of pain as he fought on. And he never faltered, not once until that necromancer was dead, and the army was destroyed. Once the deed was done, however, he fell to the ground, with the necromancer's own powerful staff shoved deep into his body, and countless other cuts spewing forth blood and disease until they quickly pooled around him.

  "I ran to him and gave my all to heal him, but his wounds were caused by several magical sources, and too great in number and severity to heal any more than superficially. In the last minutes of life he asked for Aiken, his second in command. I ran as fast as I could, found him, and brought him to E, who was slipping back and forth out of existence at every moment. He retained enough strength and presence of mind to relinquish his control of the vampire slayers to Aiken, and to give him his sword, which was still clutched in his hand, while making him swear to never let go of it.

  "As Aiken swore, and the sword left his hands, E died, and I can tell you that no day before or since seemed as dark as it was at his passing. I immediately saw the discomfort in Aiken's eyes when he held the sword, and could tell that it pained him, but he had always been a man of his word, and never let it go. He told me to bury the body of E discreetly, and to tell everyone that E was still alive, but was heavily injured and would be staying with the paladins until he recuperated his strength. I was also to say that Aiken had died. When I asked him about this, he said something about proving himself and walked off into the night, towards Darkoven.

  "Anyway, I went along with it. I said that E was with us, and would stay until he was fully healed, and I listed Aiken as one of the dead. I had no idea what kind of plan Aiken had in mind until, about two months later, I received a letter of thanks from the vampire slayers for rehabilitating E, and stating that he had safely arrived at their castle in Darkoven. I was baffled by the news, as I had buried E myself, and thought that it might be some kind of a code. So I went down there myself of horseback, and was completely astonished and disturbed to see E standing in the front to greet me. His smile was exactly like him, and it scared the hell out of me. I cast spells of seeing, of disillusionment, and even of blazing sun, but still he remained himself.

  "When we were alone, he explained everything. He said that he was most certainly E, but also Aiken. Years before, when he had created the sword, or had it created, he had placed his soul inside it so that, even if he died, he would be able to see his sister redeemed. He also explained that, in order to ensure the transfer of his soul from the sword into the human receiver, blood was needed, and the blood of the guilty at that. No innocent blood must be shed by that sword. The more evil blood is shed, the faster the transaction takes place, and once it is completed, whoever holds the sword will become E himself. In this way, E planned to see his sister saved, even after death." He lapsed into silence, not so much awkward as it was tired after having spoken for so long.

  Brand was at a loss for words. He had known of the battle, had been in the midst of all of those skeletons, and had always regretted not being able to make it to E and the Paladin Commander. He had never expected anything that had transpired. He ran through the thoughts in his head very quickly, and then the realization hit him.

  "Wait, so you mean that I could have become him?"

  "Exactly, you were worthy of becoming E, and that's why I say you let him beat you." The Paladin Commander looked happy to have explained everything so clearly.

  "And now Demenn will become him, given time?" Brand was running through still more possibilities in his head.

  "Yes." The Paladin Commander now looked rather sad, as he saw Brand recognize what all of this meant.

  Brand's eyes fell for a moment, but then he smiled once again. "Good, I wouldn't want to be taken over by that old man anyway."

  For once, it was the Paladin Commander who was surprised. "You do not envy him?"

  Brand laughed. "Of course not, we elves learned long ago that what we are is what we are. To try to be something else is an affront to whoever it was that created us. Wouldn't you agree, Artix?"

  The Paladin Commander's smile resumed it's place. "Yes, I suppose I do. Although now I feel like I just monologued for absolutely no reason."

  Brand patted him on the back as the two of them began to leave.

  "Eh, it was an interesting story, and at least now I can look forward to having E back."

  "As do I," the Paladin Commander agreed. "The world needs him more than he could ever know."

  * * *

  Later that day, only an hour or so before the sun would completely set, and the werepyres would come, Demenn was once again inside his tent when he heard footsteps approaching. They came up to the flap in the front, paused, and then he heard a scraping on the side of it; the sign of requested entrance, like knocking on a door.

  "Enter." He stood from his cot, where he had been sitting, and walked towards the door. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Nasoren push apart the flap and walk in. She was dressed in the paladin's armor, and her hair was pulled pack in a ponytail, which for some reason only accentuated the scar that disfigured her face. Normally, such a flaw would be crippling to ones beauty, and would subsequently be hidden at all cost, but Nasoren made no effort to hide it, and for some unexplained reason, she seemed more beautiful because of it.

  "Good afternoon." He smiled, though he did not feel the emotion behind it. "I was never able to tell you that I am glad you are still alive."

  She brought a hand up and flung her braid behind her with a flick of her head. When she centered her face back on him, it was clear that she was not hiding her emotions. "Yes, no thanks to you."

  Had he not been expecting worse, the words would have stabbed him, as it was, he kept up his smile. "Ah, but you seem to forget who it was that saved you in the first place."

  Almost as if she had been playing this conversation over in her head, she responded immediately, and with some real anger in her voice. "Yes, only to leave me feeling worthless about myself, change my life, and then leave me with the werewolves thinking that I ha
d willingly helped you escape. If Brand hadn't been there to beat the crap out of you and save the Queen, they would have had me torn into bits and then fed to the King."

  "Well, he was, and did, and you are alive. So why is it that you stand before me? Are you facing the demons of your past, or do you have a more practical reason?" Demenn was in no mood to argue, mostly because he had nothing with which to do so.

  She took the change in conversation grudgingly, but quite quickly as well. "I heard that you have organized a counter-attack involving the assassination of the werepyres' leader."

  "This is true." Demenn had a small idea of why she was asking about this, but kept silent.

  "And also that you're taking along almost all of our best fighters from every army with you." She was getting closer to her real reason, and Demenn was starting to understand.

  "This is also true." No sense in rushing anything.

  "But at the same time you're bringing only about twenty people with you." She was dragging things out, for some reason.

  "Yes, so what is your point?" Demenn was never one for unnecessary words.

  But she still would not get to the point. "Why are you doing this? Why sacrifice all of our best warriors by sending them into the middle of the enemy's army? We need as many fighters as we can with their armies, on the front lines."

  There was a little glimmer in what she had said that resonated, and his feeling of what she was really here for grew stronger. "I recognize that, which is why I am only taking twenty-one of us." It was a true statement, but one that leaned towards making her get to the point.

  "But twenty-one of our best." It was close.

  "The leaders are still staying with their armies. The vampires have Safiria, the werewolves have their King, and the paladins have their Commander." He definitely knew what she wanted, and shaped this answer into her next statement perfectly.

  "But what about the vampire slayers?" There it was.

  He sighed. "Listen, I can see where you are going with this, but I cannot spare Brand. He is without a doubt one of the best fighters within the five armies at our disposal, and may very well be the best. Without him, this would absolutely be a suicide mission."

  Now that it was out, she took no effort in hiding her concern for Brand. "But what are the odds that he, or any of you in fact, will survive this?"

  Truth would be best. "If I am right in my assumption, then maybe ten percent, at best, and none at all if I am wrong. Even if we all die, though, if the others survive, it will have been worth it." When put out like that, it sounded bleak even to him, but this was the course that they were on, and there was no turning back at this point.

  "But Brand—"

  "Brand agreed to be a part in what I have planned. I explained to all present the probability that those sent will die, and none expressed any misgivings about joining. I gave him and every other person chosen the chance to fight alongside the main army instead, but none took it. All of them agree that this is our best chance to win."

  She still looked like she wanted to argue with all of her being, and for maybe the first time, Demenn realized just how much she loved the elven werewolf. For a moment it made him angry, but then he simply smiled inside. He found that he was truly happy for him. She was still thinking of an argument, but then she seemed to give up and try a new approach. "Well, then let me join your party, I am a skilled healer, and have also more than proven myself in combat."

  Under normal circumstances, Demenn might actually have let her. "No."

  Nasoren was taken aback. "Why? I would be valuable to you and your group?"

  He shook his head. "I am sure that you would, but Brand anticipated this conversation, and strictly forbade me from allowing you into the attack. He said that he knew we had almost no chance of surviving this attack, and said that he could not bear to lose you. He said that he could not forgive himself if he put you in harm's way."

  She was silent for a moment. She just looked at him with a gaze of wonderment, and then a tear began to fall down her cheek. She quickly turned away and ran her sleeve along her face, sniffing. She looked like she was going to turn back, and even tried to say "Thank you," but her voice cracked, and she finished her turn, stood, and began swiftly walking back.

  Just before she left his tent, however, she stopped, hesitated for a moment. She wanted to say it more than anything, and yet she fought against it as well. She remembered her pain, her abuse, but also her saving, and when Brand had told her Demenn had let him live. Her two sides struggled forever in that moment, but finally she turned back around. She let Demenn see her tears falling, one line curving and running down her scar like a trough, and she finally said it.

  "Demenn..." She tried very hard to keep her voice steady, and tried to say it, but she could not. "You're not scum." Was all she could manage, before she turned and exited his tent.

  He sat, looked at the place she exited, and smiled once again. This time, though, his smile was neither fake, nor happy, but sad. "Yes I am, Nasoren." He said under his breath. Then louder to himself, when he was sure that she was not within range of hearing him. "At least she will not try to come with us now. And I am sure that Brand would have said that had it come into the conversation. I guess he really does not know, or does he?"

  "What would I have said?" Brand, along with Varus and Niethel, walked through the entrance of his tent.

  Demenn chuckled slightly. "That far too many have been inside my tent today. Mind the dead bodies, and the puddles of blood. My tent is already showing the effects of you three earlier today. What are you after this time?"

  "Well, I suppose that is what happens when one takes it upon oneself to become the champion of an entire army. More importantly, though, we all came here individually to ask you one thing. Is there any chance that we will win?"

  This same question had been asked many times, but from these three, arguably, and strangely, his closest comrades, the question seemed far different. Not only was he able to now voice his own doubts, but he had to. They knew him, and wanted to know the truth. He sighed and stood, looking them in the eyes.

  "I honestly do not know. There are so many problems that could come up." He began pacing back and forth. "This is all counting on the enemy doing exactly what we want, and there's honestly no reason for them to do so. What if Lueke leads his army, or stays at the center of it? A thousand things could go wrong. Even if he does leave himself vulnerable at any point, I cannot even know if the twenty-one of us will be enough to kill him, even on his own." He speech quickened, as did his steps. "What power could one who conquered a werepyre on his own posses? Is he all-powerful, or can he be killed as well? Is there honestly anything we can do? I wonder if there is a better plan, if all of this is unnecessary, and something far more simple would work just as well." Just when they thought he was only talking to himself, he stopped pacing and faced them.

  "I know absolutely nothing. But I can say that I will go through with the plan I have devised until it is completed, or until every one of us is dead. I know nothing more than to do what I can, and I feel that this is best. I am sorry that I have nothing more concrete to give you, but this is all I have." He finished, and gave them an apologetic look.

  Varus nodded. Niethel stared straight ahead. Brand spoke.

  "So, if this guy does turn out to be almost all-powerful, what will we do?"

  Demenn did not miss the inclusion of "we", and it comforted him to know that they were with him, even until they were dead. "Well, I figure that, if that is the case, I will try to have all of the others stave off any werepyres in the area while you, Varus, Niethel, and I kill him."

  Brand smiled slightly. Varus simply nodded once again. Niethel started, shot his gaze to Demenn, and then blurted out: "What, why us four?!"

  "Well, Varus because he killed Demetrious, and so has great knowledge of our opponents, and also is more than likely the best vampire warrior we have. Brand because he is one of the few werewolves that can be relied upo
n in the heat of battle, and also because he is a vampire slayer. He might also be the best fighter out of all of us. I will be there because I hold the Sword of Office, and so have the greatest chance of killing our enemies. You will be our offset, as all of us are more or less short-ranged fighters, and you are an excellent long-range fighter."

  "But there are better long-range fighters in our army. There must be countless amounts of them."

  Demenn shook his head. "If there are, they are few, and I could never trust any of them the way I trust you. I know you, and I know how you will react. That is far more important than anything else. Also, I cannot exactly explain it, but you just feel like the best choice."

  Niethel looked marginally reassured, but Brand pressed on with a point that had already been covered.