Silas was hesitant at first, but then he reached down to the pile, discovering among the items an old moth-eaten set of leather armor adorned with the upside-down hammer that symbolized the shrine’s faith.
“It belonged to ... your father.”
“My father?” Silas asked. “But I was told he was captured by the enemies of Twareg, mauled by dogs, and then eaten by pigs.”
Porker blinked several times, his eyes opening wide in panic. “Yes, but he was stripped naked first. We retrieved his belongings ... after he was dead.”
That seemed to satisfy Silas. “Praise Twareg!”
“Praise him indeed. Now get dressed already, and be quick about it!”
♦ ♦ ♦
“But this is the only home I have ever known.”
“No more,” Porker said, flanked by several guards. “From this time forward your mission, your sacred quest as handed down by Twareg himself...”
I couldn’t help but laugh in my incorporeal state. It was hard to tell what was sadder – the stew of horse shit that Porker was serving, or that Silas seemed eager to eat it up and ask for seconds.
“You are to go forth from this place. Seek out the land of men. There you will spread the word of Twareg to those who are worthy and mete out his vengeance upon those who deserve it.”
“But none are worthy, master.”
The new abbot shrugged as if this were a minor detail. “Fine. Those who really deserve it. Whatever. You are charged with smiting evil wherever you find it. Crush it. Show it no mercy. Work tirelessly in your duty.”
“I will do as you say or die miserably trying.”
“We can only hope so.” Porker nervously glanced at the other dwarves before continuing. “Err, what I meant was you are not to return here until such time as you have converted everyone – until Twareg’s name is the first word uttered by every man, woman, and child when they wake in the morning and the last before they collapse in their beds at night. Go forth in his name, Silas Kane, as his warrior, his champion, his paladin.”
“It shall be done!” Silas cried, decked out in his new armor and carrying a bow and fresh quiver of arrows. On his back he wore a pack containing a threadbare blanket, a few days of moldy rations, his favorite whip, and of course the heretical book of Twareg’s teachings that he’d studied since he was a child.
The dwarves made a good show of cheering Silas on as he walked away into the wilderness, his so-called destiny laid out for him.
As soon as he was out of sight, though, Porker turned to the guards standing atop the walls.
“If you ever see him return, shoot him dead on sight.”
And with that, the gates of the shrine were closed and double-barred.
TO PISS OFF A SAINT
Silas wandered for days, while I busied myself pondering the opportunity that had been practically handed to me.
I wished for him to put some distance between himself and the shrine’s foul influence. It likewise didn’t hurt to allow a bit of time to pass between our meeting and my previous infraction, allowing the rumble of godly thunder to grow quiet again.
Silas, for his part, seemed to take his exile in good cheer, albeit on his first night out he did shoot a pair of squirrels that made the mistake of chattering during his evening prayers.
All the while, I subtly influenced his path – felling a tree limb here, or making a stream run a bit wilder there. To the north lay the Iron Plains, an excellent place for warriors looking to earn a bit of coin. But the people of the plains had a reputation for being wary of strangers due to their isolation at the frontier of the Kingdom.
No. I thought the best course for Silas was to lead him south toward civilization in all its myriad forms. There, he could immerse himself in the diverse stew of life and see that not everything need be black and white. Yes, there was plenty of wickedness in this world, but there was good, too. He needed to be able to differentiate between them in ways that went beyond the rigid dogma of the One True Book of Twareg – which he made a point to study every morning and night, despite knowing the reviled text by heart.
On the third day, I saw the seeds of my hope take root, for Silas came upon a farmer whose wagon had broken a wheel. The old man had repaired it well enough, but lacked the proper strength to remount it so as to be on his way.
Upon Silas’s approach, the old man grew wary, no doubt worried about bandits, but his countenance improved visibly upon seeing that Silas was alone.
“Praise be to the gods,” the old man called out. “I was hoping a fit young lad such as yourself would come along. Might I trouble you for a bit of help?”
“You should give praise only to Twareg,” Silas replied. “For it is his path and his path alone I walk.”
The old man shrugged. “I’ll praise whoever you tell me to if’n you can help me fix this blasted wheel.”
“Fix it, eh?” I watched from afar as the young warrior appeared to study the wagon for several minutes. At last, he stood and turned to the farmer. “Um, have you tried praying?”
“Aye,” the old man replied with a sigh. “I prayed that someone with a strong back would stop and help me, and lo and behold, here you are.”
That seemed to satisfy the warrior. Just as Silas was about to lift the side of the wagon for the man to hammer the wheel back in place, though, he hesitated. “You’re not a demon sent to tempt me, are you?”
The old farmer turned and spat into the nearby foliage. “Tempt you with what, boy? My mule?”
“Just checking.”
He finished helping the farmer make his repairs. As way of showing gratitude, the old man offered Silas a hot meal back at his farm and a bed to sleep in. My heart soared at hearing his words, for surely that was what the boy needed – some companionship and a little kindness to show him how badly he’d been mistreated in years past.
Sadly, that ended a scant mile later when the farmer kicked Silas off after he wouldn’t shut up about Twareg, telling the warrior, “I’ll worship your blasted god out me ass, but only after my ears stop bleeding!”
“Be sure you do! Have a blessed day, and don’t forget to praise Twareg!” Silas called to the retreating wagon before turning and continuing on.
Oh well, at least it had ended better than his encounter with the whores.
Though he had only met that one traveler in his journey so far, it was enough for me to see he showed no signs of deviating on his own from what he’d been taught. I’d hoped Silas would be like a dog freed from its cage after a lifetime of feeling the boot of its cruel master. That he’d get his first taste of what it was like to run wild and with it would come the revelation of how wrong his prior life had been. But no. This dog had grown to like being kicked. It was time to step in and teach him there was more to life.
I considered perhaps sending a herd of wild boar his way and then stepping in to save him, but that felt a wee bit too melodramatic. The boy had been raised by the fist. Though he would no doubt be comfortable with any activity involving bloodshed, I thought a different approach was called for. Besides, it had been far too long since I’d donned flesh and enjoyed some of the simple pleasures that life afforded.
A short while later, Silas approached the clearing where I awaited him. A side of pork was roasting over an open fire, the sweet smell carried on the breeze I’d conjured – pushing it the would-be paladin’s way. Next to me sat a pitcher of the finest ale, something to cool a parched throat after a long day of walking. All was perfect.
I had considered taking the guise of a simple mortal, a mere traveler on the road, but opted instead to appear as myself. As he entered the clearing, he spied me adorned in my gleaming plate armor with my mighty axe, Doom Splitter, at my side. Though I wore the same flesh as before my ascension, the divine power crackling off me made it painfully obvious that I was not of this world.
The look on Silas’s face as he approached told me he understood my divinity. His eyes were wide and he had a wistful look upon his f
ace. “May Twareg bless you, stranger.”
“He already has,” I replied with a knowing grin. “Come, sit with me.”
Silas hesitated, though. “Are you...”
“Am I him? No.”
His face dropped ever so slightly. “I suppose it was too much to hope for.”
“My name is Theoden Grimstrike and I sit at Twareg’s right hand in the mountain known as ... hold on. What are you doing?” Before I could even finish my introduction, Silas had already thrown himself at my feet, tears in his eyes, and began showering my boots with kisses. “Stop that.”
He spied my axe and pointed to it. “Please, sir, beat me senseless with your weapon.”
“What?”
“Lop off my useless arms so that I might learn humility.”
“That’s not what...”
“Or my legs, so that I might crawl in the dirt forever like the filthy worm I am.”
“For Twareg’s sake, have some dignity, man.”
“Dignity is a sin, oh merciless one,” Silas muttered, his lips still glued to my boots. “Self-respect, too.”
This was not going quite as I’d planned. I tried to be rational, asked him to stop groveling, to stand up and act like a man, but I might as well have been talking to a tree stump. Finally, I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him back to his feet. “Knock it off or I’ll split your fucking skull.”
I hadn’t meant to lose my temper, but it was the only thing that seemed to get through to him, albeit it was less fear I saw in his eyes and more wistful anticipation.
Before he could ask if I was serious about cleaving his head in, I pointed toward a log on the far side of the fire. “Sit your ass there and grab some food.”
Silas did as told, at least on the sitting part. I watched for several long seconds, trying to figure out the rest. “Tell me, boy, is there a reason you’re digging in the dirt?”
He looked up. “I’m searching for some grubs.”
“Why, pray tell?”
“You told me to grab food. I was simply looking for a meal worthy of a maggot such as...”
“Grab some pork, you bleeding idiot!”
Gah! This wasn’t going as I’d planned. I hadn’t set out to scream at the lad, but he had a way about him that was best described as brain-meltingly stupid.
I took a deep swallow from my flagon of ale and decided that I’d start again after we’d eaten. Perhaps a good meal, likely the first proper one he’d eaten since being pulled from his dead mother’s teat, would open his eyes a bit. “That’s right, take a big bite.”
Silas did as I ordered him to, ripping off a large hunk of pork. I expected a look of nirvana to pass before his eyes at the exquisitely spiced meat, but all I saw was confusion.
“What’s the matter? You don’t like it?”
He chewed for an extra-long time before finally swallowing. “I don’t know.”
“How do you not know?”
“Is it supposed to have this much ... flavor?”
“Of course!”
Silas nodded and dumped the rest onto the ground. “Then I don’t like it.”
“What?”
“This is a test, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I’ve studied the scripture thoroughly. For it was written that the great god Twareg looked down at his servants in their homes and he was displeased, for they spent more time preparing their food than they did praying. And verily he did drop his breeches and drown them in his holy excretions for their transgression. Your lesson is not lost upon me, oh mighty one. Flavor is sinful.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. Forget that nonsense and take another bite.”
Silas shook his head, that idiotic grin still on his face. “The salt of sin shall not sour my lips. Fear not. I will resist the temptation.”
“It’s not temptation. It’s just supper.”
“A sinful supper. That’s the worst kind.”
I took another bite, then spat it out, my appetite gone in the face of the boy’s ignorance. Seeing the rapturous look on his face, I quickly added, “It was just some grizzle. Don’t get your britches in a bunch.”
“I’m not wearing any. I prefer my armor to chafe.”
That was far more than I truly cared to know. “Not what I meant.”
“Oh, then...”
I pointed toward his backpack. “Haven’t you ever questioned anything written in that blasted book?” It was time to get to the point.
“No.”
“Not even some of the more ridiculous shite that’s scribbled in it?”
“With Twareg, nothing is ridiculous.”
“Nothing?”
“Of course not.”
Fortunately, I was familiar with the so-called scripture he’d studied. I’d spent some time reading through it, and it was as if whoever wrote the damned thing hadn’t the foggiest idea about the true nature of Twareg. Either that, or they’d purposely ignored it. Considering where the dwarves of the shrine originated from, I had to assume the latter. But that was neither here nor there. What mattered was that some of the tales by these heathens wouldn’t have made a convincing bedtime story for even the stupidest child. I decided to throw one of the worst offenders back in this fool’s face. “What about that preposterous tale of the flood?”
Silas perked up. “I know it well. Twareg appeared to a human named N’ohwah and told him that he must build a massive ship out of wood, because he planned to drown the world and all the sinners in it.”
“Yes, I know. You don’t have to recite the stupid thing. I simply meant...”
“N’ohwah worked for years to build the ship, laboring to complete it and forcing his family to work their fingers to the bone alongside him. Then, when it was finally finished, he worked tirelessly to fill it with two of each creature upon the land so that once the world was pure again, they could go forth and multiply.”
I tried to interrupt, but the boy wasn’t to be stopped once he started.
“And then,” Silas decreed with a big smile, “the rains came, the world was flooded, and the vessel capsized in the ensuing torrent. N’ohwah was drowned, along with everyone aboard his ark. All the while, Twareg sat with the dwarves in their waterproofed mines and shared a laugh at the stupidity of man.”
Ah ha! There it was. “Do you see what I mean? Preposterous.”
“How so?”
“If Twareg drowned all the long-legs, then how do you explain all the people in the world today? Did they sprout from rocks?”
Silas turned his head and looked around, as if afraid of being watched, then he lowered his voice. “Wickedness finds a way.”
“That’s moronic!”
“And true.”
“No, it’s not.”
“If it’s not, then why is it written in the One True Book of Twareg? It says so right on the cover. Everything inside is true.”
“That’s circular logic!” By the blank look on Silas’s face, I realized this was a concept that perhaps his dull mind wasn’t prepared to consider. So I decided on a different course of action. “You do realize that book was written by dwarves, right?”
“Of course. Dwarves inspired by Twareg’s awesome righteousness.”
“And how do you know those dwarves didn’t lie?”
“Because lying is a sin.”
“Obviously, but that wouldn’t mean anything to a sinner.”
“No, but dwarves are Twareg’s chosen people and are thus exempt from certain rules.”
“Who told you that?”
“The dwarves at the shrine.”
“Of course they did.” I was beginning to fear that this was going nowhere fast. “So you say lying is a sin. And all wicked things are sinners, yes?”
“Indeed. It is why I whip myself every night, so that I might hope to purge myself of the disgrace that is ever present in my...”
“Not what I was asking,” I snapped. It was beginning to become clear why the farmer had lost his temper with the boy. “What I meant
is that Twareg is good, right?”
“The greatest good there is! Why, there is no gooder good in this vast universe. The only reason the word good isn’t called Twareg instead, is because Twareg is so good that even the word good cannot encompass his goodness.”
I blinked for several seconds trying to understand the word vomit Silas had just puked up all over the forest floor. “Uh, huh. So tell me this, then. If Twareg is so good, then how do you explain how he killed the entire world in your foolish story? Are you saying that everyone is wicked, down to even the most innocent of babies?”
I’d hoped to stump him with sound logic, but I was quickly learning that logic had no place in the mind of Silas Kane.
He leaned in. “All except the chosen people are born as festering piles of sin. And babies are the most wicked, because they’re too stupid to realize it. As we all know, ignorance of sin is one of the greatest sins of all.”
“So you’re saying that killing mere babes because they don’t know ... argh!” I couldn’t continue with that thought. Who knew what the moron would say next? Already, I could feel my hand itching to grab hold of Doom Splitter and use it to beat some sense into this idiot ... which is almost certainly what he wanted.
Grr! This was one of the problems with assuming mortal flesh. While I existed in the ether, I could rise above petty mortal issues, such as being annoyed to all shit by one human’s base stupidity. Taking on flesh and blood again tended to also open me up to having that blood boil. I needed to remember my divinity and that I was here on a mission of mercy to save this fool despite himself.
Perhaps that was my mistake. I was trying to talk to Silas like a man, when I should have been talking to him as one who has walked amongst the gods.
“Hear me, boy, and hear me well!” I called upon a fraction of my power and began to glow, power crackling around my body. “I am Theoden Grimstrike, servant to Twareg! And I will not suffer your ignorance any longer.”
Silas dropped to his knees, his eyes wide with ... at first I thought awe, but then I saw it was actually closer to delight. He held his arms out to the side and cried, “Yes! Strike me down, for I am ignorant!”
The Silas Kane Scrolls (Authors and Dragons Origins Book 2) Page 3