by Steven Drake
Over the past months, that admiration, and the considerable amount of time spent with him, had blurred her feelings even further. When she first realized that the sense of familiarity had progressed into genuine affection, it had almost sickened her. The idea that she could ever feel an attraction to the man who had killed her family filled her with a terrible guilt, yet that guilt was not enough to push her away from him. She caught herself wondering if a man like Darien, so warped and twisted by evil from such a young age, could ever really return her affections. In the hidden valley of the elves, she had no one else, and in spite of everything, she grew closer to him than she ever imagined possible.
Now he wanted something from her. He needed her help. For what, she did not know, but she could tell it was important. Her honor demanded that she refuse him, whatever he asked, but she didn’t know if she could. When the moment came, could she really look him in those questioning eyes, those eyes, grey like a sky of endless clouds, filled with a loneliness and despair that she completely understood, and say no. Would she be able to live with herself if she aided her family’s murderer? Would she be able to live with herself if she didn’t? She had never in her life been so thoroughly confused, and so she found herself once again, for entirely new reasons, wishing she’d never even heard of Darien the Executioner.
Chapter 3: Resolved
The decision had been made, and the meeting had been arranged. Two days had passed since Darien had visited the Forest of the Sleepers and decided on his course of action. Light filtered into the room through the window and split into a dozen colors that painted a mosaic of light onto the white stone floor. The room was empty save for the polished burgundy table and the figures sitting around it. Jerris, the young prince, already knew what Darien was going to say and sat with his elbows on the table and his hands clasped, waiting patiently. Galen, the lorekeeper, sat straight as the trees of Kadanar, wearing an expression of curiosity and seriousness. Ceres Arloran, Captain of the Sentinels of Kadanar, leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed and glared at Darien, scarcely hiding her intense dislike of the former Shade. Lastly, Rana Geruda shifted nervously, perched on the edge of her chair, brow furrowed and eyes down, looking most uncomfortable. She gave every appearance of wanting to be somewhere else.
“Alright, I’m here,” Rana said. “What’s the point of gathering us here like this?”
“I believe, at last, I understand what everyone’s purpose here is, and I believe I see the goal I must seek,” Darien replied, his voice even and calm. “You all know, do you not, that the Demon Sword has a sister sword?” he asked. Ceres, the fiery haired elf, glowered viciously at him, her disapproval evident.
“Yes, I vaguely recall that,” Rana said. “Why is that important? It’s not supposed to be as strong as yours, is it?”
“That, I would only answer with Galen’s permission.” He looked sternly at the white-haired elf, who looked down at the table, rapping his fingers along the polished wood.
“Oh, by the unending stars,” Jerris broke in. “Everyone already knows except Rana, and I trust her. I’m going to be King, so my opinion should count for something, shouldn’t it?” Galen nodded reluctantly, and Darien proceeded.
“The Star Sword wasn’t just forged at the same time as the Demon Sword. The two are bound, so that the demons banished by the Star Sword are imprisoned by the Demon Sword. That is the source of its true power.”
“Less than a week has passed since we trusted you with our secret, and already you reveal it to an outsider?” Ceres stood up and slammed her hands on the table. “You have no loyalty to anyone or anything. Only the fact that you have the prince wrapped around your finger protects you. Otherwise, I would have killed you long ago. Better to take our chances one of us can wield the Demon Sword.”
“Ceres, you can’t possibly mean that?” Galen intervened. “It’s madness.”
“I do mean it. You coddle him because he is Morianna’s son, apologize for him because you failed to protect her. Our people should not suffer on account of your guilt.” Ceres’ brown eyes blazed alternately at Darien and at Galen.
“That’s enough!” Jerris suddenly leapt up and shouted in a far more commanding tone than was usual for him. “Just stop it. This suspicion and mistrust isn’t going to get us anywhere. We have to trust people, or we’ll still be hiding in this valley a thousand more years from now. The prophecy says we have to defeat the Demon King to restore our kingdom. Can we do that by ourselves? We need allies, and I’m tired of everyone keeping secrets from each other. Now sit down Ceres and listen, or get out.” The look on Ceres’ face was something akin to that of a dog which had been kicked by its master, and she reluctantly sat down and crossed her arms furiously.
“As I was saying,” Darien calmly continued, “the two swords are bound to one another, and I believe that we can use that to our advantage. I couldn’t beat the Demon King when I fought him before. He was too strong, but he’s still only a mortal. He has used his enchantments to drain much of the Demon Sword’s power, but if we were to use the Star Sword on him, there’s a good chance his power would be pulled into the Demon Sword, killing him almost immediately.”
“Darien is correct,” Galen added. “I have long believed that this would be the key to defeating him, but not everyone agrees with me.” He shot an insinuating glance at Ceres.
“But what will that do to you?” Jerris asked and stared intently at his teacher.
“An excellent question. We have to take a serious risk.” Darien began pacing back and forth, focused on his thoughts, eyes unfocused, aimlessly looking at nothing as he continued to speak. “All that power flowing into the sword all at once. The demons’ souls, now once again empowered with their magic, would overwhelm my mind. But I believe I know the answer. I have to face the Demon King, Varias. Whether by stealth or force of arms, we must infiltrate his kingdom, penetrate to the gates of Shade Castle, then force him into combat. We may be able to prepare some sort of ruse or trap to lure him to us, or we may have no choice but to lay siege to his stronghold, but either way, the endgame remains the same. I will engage him, knowing I can’t win. I allow him to strike a mortal blow, hopefully one which will leave him vulnerable, and then one of you uses the Star Sword to end his wretched existence.” For several minutes, everyone sat silently, not knowing what to say. Jerris looked sullen and began fidgeting in his usual fashion. Rana only sat back in the chair, her mouth still hanging open in shock. Ceres was turned away, staring at a wall, and Galen had buried his face in his hands.
“Just like in the prophecy,” Rana finally spoke. “The executioner will lay down his life.”
“I don’t know whether I believe in it, or not.” Darien shook his head and sighed deeply. “But the fact remains, when I took the Demon Sword, I took it with the intention of ending Varias’ life. I would have killed him if I could. Nothing has really changed since then. I still mean to kill him, if I can.”
“You are resolved then,” the lorekeeper spoke quietly, a look of resignation mixed with exhaustion on his face. “I ultimately believed this is what you would decide, but there remains a rather significant problem. We don’t know where to begin looking for the Star Sword.”
“Perhaps I do,” Darien remarked.
“What?” Galen puzzled, “How would you know? How could you?”
“I have my own sources.”
“You mean Ezra, don’t you?” Jerris said, and the executioner nodded.
“Who is Ezra?” Ceres asked.
“The old man who placed the spell upon me that saved me from becoming possessed by the Demon Sword,” Darien answered. “He calls himself a guardian of the Demon Sword, and knows many things about it, and the Star Sword as well, but he didn’t know it was bound to the Demon Sword.”
“I have never heard of any guardians of the Demon Sword. I can think of no one aside from Varias himself who would have knowledge about the Demon Sword, but then we have little contact with the lands of men
,” Galen said. “We also never discovered what happened to the Demon Sword between the War of Vengeance and when Varias rose to power, but perhaps it was hidden deliberately, and this Ezra is a descendant of those who hid the Demon Sword.”
“That thought has crossed my mind more than once,” Darien added.
“Wait,” Rana suddenly broke in. “How are you talking to this person. Surely he’s not here in Kadanar.”
“No, obviously not. When he placed the spell upon me, he also placed upon me an enchantment of observation, so that he could watch me, and even speak with me if needed.”
“And he knows where to find the Star Sword?” Galen said.
“No, but he has an idea where to look. According to Ezra, many of the records and artifacts of Sarenna were preserved by the Mage Knights, and they fled to the city of Trinium, eventually founding the Order of the Golden Shield. If there’s any clue where the sword is, it must be there. It may be that they deliberately hid the Star Sword, not understanding its importance.”
“You can’t mean to go to Trinium,” Rana gasped. “They would recognize you, and even if they don’t, a mage with your level of power can’t just walk around unnoticed. They’ll have you executed if they catch you.”
“Maybe, and maybe not. If they’re reasonable men, they’ll realize I’m much more valuable alive. After all, you did, and you have more reason than any of them to hate me.” Darien smiled slyly at the blond-haired lady knight, who shifted uncomfortably and stared at the table. “Besides, I may not be able to enter Trinium, but you certainly can.”
“So that’s why you wanted me here. You need me to steal whatever information you need,” she said quite clearly to the highly polished wooden table.
“You know the city, and the order, better than anyone here. You’re not an elf so you won’t draw attention to yourself.”
“It’s not that simple.” Rana turned away and sighed. “When I left the Order, I left without permission. I’m considered a deserter. If I’m found by the Order, I’m not sure what they’ll do to me. They could imprison me or even have me executed.”
“They’d kill you just for leaving?” Jerris asked incredulously.
“Desertion is taken seriously in the Order. Too many have betrayed us to our enemies. I’m not trained for stealth and infiltration. I’ve only been to Trinium a few times. The people I knew then would probably see me as an enemy, or at least unwelcome.”
“So you won’t do it?” Jerris pressed.
“I don’t know,” Rana stammered. “I… I want to help, but…”
“You are under no obligation to help me. You have no reason to do so, and I would understand if you refuse. You perhaps have more reason to refuse my request than anyone…” Darien’s voice trailed off, and he paused, blinked his eyes several times, and then spoke again. “I intend to take several days at least to prepare, and I can delay further if needed, but I do intend to try, with or without your help.”
“Of course you do,” Rana muttered to herself. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t refuse him, not after he’d nearly apologized for even asking. “Alright, I’ll do it.”
Chapter 4: The Faerie’s Warning
Night had fallen in the hidden valley of Kadanar. A cool breeze was blowing, and Darien the Executioner was standing before Lake Saria. The clear, tranquil waters held perfectly still, a mirror reflecting the scant moonlight that managed to penetrate the forest canopy. Darien looked out over the waters with a grave determination, and a deep suspicion, preparing to speak to someone he had not intended to ever speak to again.
From the center of the lake, a light appeared just below the water’s surface, then rose above it. The ball of light flashed, and Lucca, the faerie queen appeared, standing on the surface of the water as if it were solid. She was taller than Darien by half, yet her slender frame made her appear as insubstantial as a wisp of cloud. Long silvery hair flowed down her back. White, dusty, insect-like wings spread wide across the water behind her. She was, as always, surrounded by the cool white glow that emanated from her wings. Her white gown seemed almost a part of her body, and it sparkled in the light. As she strode across the water, her mirror reflection appeared to walk just beneath the surface, connecting with her each time her bare feet touched the water. She approached and shortly stood before him.
“You asked to speak with me?” Darien remarked coldly.
“And you have come.” Lucca spoke with a deep and melodious voice, like a harp plucked by a great master. “I half expected you would not.”
“What is it you want?” Darien responded, his voice harsh and sharp against the faerie queen’s melody.
“You have resolved to go after the Star Sword, have you not?” Darien nodded in response to her question, and she continued. “As I had thought you would. Tell me, have you considered the words of our prophecy? Now that you know of the Star Sword, now that you believe that your enemy can be defeated. Now that you intend to face him, just as we predicted, do you believe it now?” Lucca smiled warmly at him.
“I don’t really care. If the Demon King can be killed, then I will be the instrument of his death, and I will finally and truly have justice for my mother. Whatever else happens is not my concern.” Darien shrugged as he spoke, then he looked the elf queen in the eye. “Why do you play this game? Why does it matter if I believe in your prophecy?”
“To call it a game is to insult us,” Lucca retorted. “We take matters of destiny with the greatest sincerity.”
“Fine, but why do you care so much that we take your prophecy seriously?” Darien pressed. “If you already know what’s going to happen, why do you interfere? Why should it matter? Why should anything we do matter if it doesn’t change anything?”
Lucca smiled warmly, a disarming smile that reminded Darien somehow of his mother, a vague recollection from his childhood of asking his mother some important question and being answered with that disarming smile and an explanation he didn’t quite understand. “Consider the water. Always, it begins in the heavens, and falls to earth as the rains. Each drop of water begins like every other. It falls to the ground, runs down into the soil, into streams, then rivers, then out to the sea. So each drop of water begins in the same way, and ends in the same way. In this way, their fate is already decided before their journey even begins. Even so, each drop takes a different path from beginning to end. Even within a single stream, a drop of water may take one of endlessly different paths along the current, right or left, shallow or deep.” Lucca paused, flitting her wings and sending ripples that lapped on the shore in front of her, and spread out into the lake behind. As Darien watched the water, he considered her words. “Mortal lives are like tiny drops of water, cast into a vast river. Their fate, and the fate of all around them, has long been decided. They are at the mercy of a thousand things far beyond their control, things that have happened long before they were born, things that continue to happen all their lives, and even things that will yet happen long after they pass from this world. Unlike drops of water, however, we mortals possess free will, to make choices, to turn left or right, to make our own paths within the river. Our choices cannot change the course of the river, but they can make a great deal of difference to us, and those around us, making our journey a pleasant one, or a terrible one.”
Darien stopped to consider the words, but no matter how he turned the matter over in his mind, he returned to the same certain choice. Either fate can be changed or it cannot, either the future is set or it is not. What other possibility could there be? After a time, he finally spoke again. “Alright, and what if I choose to go my own way? What if I run to the farthest corner of the world, so far away that the Demon King cannot find me? What if I cast myself into the sea? What then? Do you expect me to believe that some magic will reach out and put me right back where I’m supposed to be again?”
“I don’t expect you to believe it, no, but you cannot escape your destiny, Darien the Executioner. You are one of a very few whose choices wi
ll affect everyone and everything. Whatever you do, it will shape the world, at least the way we see it. That is your fate, and it will find you one way or the other. If you do not embrace it, then it will crush you. You may be an ally to the Goddess, or her enemy, but she will work her will one way or the other.”
“I didn’t know the faeries had gods,” Darien muttered under his breath.
“We do not believe in the gods of men, and the elves have no gods, cherishing life above all things, but we honor the Goddess, who is the only one. She from whom the world was born. She who traces the paths of fate for us to follow with her invisible hand. She who shall return to us at the end of all things.” Apparently, the faerie had indeed heard his mutterings. She cocked her head slightly to the side as she regarded the former Shade and her smile grew even wider. “And you, Darien the Executioner, you believe in nothing, and you doubt everything, question everything, and so you have nothing to hold onto. Like a ship without sail or anchor, you drift aimlessly upon the waves, without purpose or direction. I pity you, for your life is as dark and empty as the magic you wield.”
The half-elf felt a cold resentment come over him. The idea that anyone could have pity or compassion for him was a grave insult. Perhaps it was pride that made it difficult for him to accept the sympathies of others, even when freely offered, but then again, perhaps it was something else. Darien had lived for a long time in the darkness, and he had become so accustomed to it, that for him light and darkness had traded their proper places. He was accustomed to anger, contempt, mistrust, suspicion, fear, pain, and suffering. As a Shade, he had been taught to endure all this by his teachers, who were often the source. Even now, many years after leaving the Order of the Shade, when that constant difficulty, that suffering, was withdrawn, he was uncomfortable, awkward, and not himself. His spine went cold, and the chill ran down his arms to his fingers, as if his blood were freezing inside him. Still, his face was unchanged, a blank empty stare into the distance of the valley. “You have no right to pity me,” he declared sternly. “You who sit in safety and pull the strings of others for your own purposes. I have walked hand in hand with death, and death is my guiding purpose. I will kill my enemy, or he will kill me. That is all the purpose I need. You pity me. You should save your pity for those who stand in my way. Now, if you have something useful to say to me, then say it, or go back to your water, inconstant spirit.”