by Ty Johnston
Bayne spoke for a very long time, so long he feared perhaps more years had passed in the outside world. But eventually his lips stopped moving and he and the priest stared across open ground at one another, the flames of the fire and the candles never dimming.
That silence held rein for nearly as long as Bayne had spoken, or so it seemed to the warrior who was a god. Planets seemed to move beyond the ether. It felt as if whole civilizations, races of men to be unknown, had risen and fallen, crumpled to dust, in the outside world. The heavens moved. Men lived and died, and no one cared.
Eventually, however, Pedrague did speak.
"What happened to you was a tragedy," he said.
Bayne had no response. His own words had stifled him, nearly choked him. He was not one to think long on the past, and his recital of his actions and the great wrong done to him brought back a swinging of emotions.
"But you are not alone in your pain," Pedrague added. "In fact, your suffering was but little compared to that of many others."
The pain fled the warrior. It was replaced with hate.
"How dare you cut down my suffering," Bayne spoke with a spray from his lips.
"I do no such thing," the priest said. "You have internalized your pain far too much, Bayne. What transpired against you was awful, but you are a strong man, more than a man. As you found, you have resources far beyond those of mortals. What happened to you would have broken, would have slain, a lesser being."
"Are you telling me because I am strong, my anguish has no validity?"
"No," Pedrague said. "I am telling you you have ignored the suffering of lesser beings. Despite your strengths, you have focused so on your own pains that you think nothing of the anguish you spread to others."
"Every mortal I have slain has deserved their fate," Bayne said.
"And who are you to judge?" Pedrague said. "You believe you are a god because of what this Marnok told you in that other world, but does steel and chemicals mixed with flesh make a god? Do your powers and abilities make you a god? No. Used for ill, all those things make you is but another petty tyrant, little different from the likes of Verkanus, or this Marnok."
Bayne growled low in his throat.
"You have experienced much in your time," Pedrague went on, "but Bayne, by far you have not witnessed the worst of humanity, the worst that humanity can do to itself."
Bayne exploded. "What of torture? And greed! Pettiness! Betrayal"
"Are you any better?" the priest replied. "You now claim to be a god, but I see little more than the emotions of a mortal within you. And of humanity's sins, war is an awful thing, but it is not the only awful thing. You have slain bandits, gladiators, mercenaries, and one could argue those men knew what to expect of their lives. But you have also slain the innocent, and often enough because of some flippant words, words with which you disagreed. Are men to kill one another over a mere disagreement? I say no. Ashal says no. Good men everywhere would say no. You portray yourself as the strongest of men, higher than mortals themselves, yet you allow mere words to hurt you, to sway you to atrocities."
"This is not right!" Bayne spat. "You cannot judge me! You are only a man! I ... I am a god."
"Then be one," Pedrague snapped. He thrust out a hand and an invisible wall slammed into the warrior, knocking Bayne from his feet.
The swordsman rolled over, onto a knee, one hand reaching for the weapon on his back.
"Think it through," Pedrague said. "If we go to war, you and I, there is no telling what the outcome will be."
"I will be triumphant and you will be dead," Bayne predicted.
Pedrague lowered his hand and laughed. "That is quite the possibility."
"It is more than a possibility."
"Very well," Pedrague said, sitting with crossed legs. "Do your worst, Bayne kul Kanon. I have affronted you. Now slay me. I will not raise another hand to thwart you."
Bayne slowly stood, his reaching hand now gripping tight the pommel of his sword.
The two stared at one another across a vast gulf, one that seemed as wide as the universe.
After several minutes, Bayne lowered his hand and his eyes.
"You will not slay me," Pedrague said.
"No."
"Why not, Bayne?"
"I do not know."
"It is not because you are afraid," Pedrague said. "Of that there is little concern."
"Correct."
"You do not slay me because you know it is the right thing to do," Pedrague said. "If you cut me down, especially if I offered not a hand in defense, you would find it most difficult to live with yourself."
"Perhaps."
"Yet I am but one man, Bayne," Pedrague said. "You only hesitated at my killing because of our old connections, because we had been companions. If I had been no one to you, you would have probably lopped off my head without a thought."
"Most definitely."
"There is your error."
Bayne looked up. "In what way?"
"Again, you focus only upon yourself, upon what is important to you."
"I do not understand."
"You only think of your own suffering, Bayne," Pedrague said. "You have killed thousands over the years, I am sure, but few if any of those deaths meant anything to you. One man dead was just as any other. They were little more than insects to you, petty obstacles to be brushed aside as would a child a fly. Your strength, your ... godhood ... has given you a loss of focus, if you ever truly had it. Other people matter. You do not recognize that."
"It is still not clear to me," Bayne said. "Mortals are fools. I know that to be true."
"Yes, mortals are fools," Pedrague said, "but so are you. We are all fools together, whatever world we find ourselves in. But the distinction between a terrible man and a pious one is shown in how they treat others."
"What makes you think I would be thought a pious man?"
"Nothing," Pedrague said. "As we've shown, you care not for the lives of others, let alone what others should think of you. But your own mind, even your soul, that you cannot cut away with your sword. You have to live with yourself. To be blunt, you would not slay me because I meant something to you, but you do not realize that others feel the same, have the same emotions as you. Others care about one another. They have those that mean something to them."
"Not all men," Bayne said with hatred.
"True enough. There are those beyond the pale of good deeds and help. And there are those who are selfish and greedy, but are not void of some levels of compassion."
Bayne threw out his arms as if seeking answers. "What would you have of me, Pedrague? I came here to tell you of who I am, of what I have become. I have done so. Combat seems ... useless. So what is to become of us now? Of me now?"
"I do not know," Pedrague said simply.
Bayne threw down his hands in disgust and half turned away.
"Oh, don't misjudge me," the priest said with a grin. "I'm not about to let you continue terrorizing the land. But I think ... I hope ... you are beyond such. If nothing else, I hope your meeting with me will give you some insight into your own soul."
"I ... I am too far gone to change," Bayne said, his voice shaking.
"Nonsense," Pedrague said. "You have simply been a slave. A slave to your own passions, to your anger and sense of vengeance. A slave to the sword. All men can change for the better, all but the most mad. And you, Bayne, are many things, but you are not mad."
The warrior turned to his old friend. "What is to become of me? I cannot return to the world of men."
"Not without retribution against you, no."
Bayne gritted his teeth. "Wrongs I may have done, but I will not turn myself over to be judged by a lot of fools. I will not repeat what happened under Marnok!"
"I am not expecting you to," Pedrague said. "Bayne, restitution will be doled out, so don't believe you will escape it, but it is not for those you consider mortals to do so. Even if you should allow yourself to be captured, the outcome wou
ld be terrible. I would hazard that only for so long could you cope with whatever punishment was fitted upon you. Slavery? Imprisonment? More torture? You are seemingly immortal. None of those things would hold you down, not for any length of time. Your sense of anger would rise once more, and the world would come to regret pinning you down as much as it had your presence in the first place."
"Then what of me?" Bayne asked. "Exile? I will not return to Marnok's lands."
"I can think of but one possibility," the priest said, "though it is an uncertain one."
"What, then? Tell me."
"Help me to stand," Pedrague said, holding up a hand, "and I will show you."
Bayne blinked at the need for assistance, but then he reached forward and grasped his friend by the wrist and pulled.
Once more, the warrior's world changed.
There was a blurring of motion, of blackened walls and deep purple nights rolling over Bayne. The ground seemed to heave beneath his feet, the air to stir alive with a billion gnats. His flesh felt chilled, then warmed. His breathing became heavy, labored, then eased away. Lights flashed and flickered and blinked in all colors within his eyes. Bayne thought himself alone, but through it all he still felt Pedrague's hand within his own.
The experience was not that different from what Bayne had felt with the gems in The Knotted Mesh tavern, though this was more abrupt and the sense of movement was more generalized.
He had but a moment to reflect upon that, then his feet touched solid ground again as if he had fallen a short distance.
"We are here," Pedrague said.
"Where is here?" Bayne asked, scanning his surroundings.
The immediate view was of ground blackened by the tortures of fire. Grass was but black ash. Drying mud showed through in large pools. The land was mostly flat with some mild hills in the distance, beyond that a wall of flame lining the horizon in all directions. It was night, and the moon was in full glow, revealing a lack of trees and human structures or any other marks of the land.
"This is a land known as Kobalos," Pedrague stated, standing at the warrior's side, their hands still touching.
"I have not heard of this place," Bayne said, "nor does it appear familiar."
"The name of this country is one that will not exist for another thousand years, at least not in reference to you," the priest explained.
Bayne shot a sharp glance to his companion and dropped his hand from the others'. "How is this so?"
Pedrague smiled. "I have been gifted with magic. Ashal allows me to do such. What you see before you is not real, but a glimpse of things to come."
Bayne grimaced. "I knew you were a mage, but I did not realize your powers allowed you to do such as this, to show us the future."
"I have grown old since our last meeting," Pedrague said. "My abilities have grown as well since then. Ashal has blessed me."
Bayne looked about once more, his heavy gaze following the distant dancing fires. "There is something familiar about all this."
"The view is much the same as when we first met, but without the Trodan armies."
The warrior nodded. "Yes, I see that now. It also reminds of an image from my past, a vision nearer to my creation."
"I am not surprised," Pedrague said. "You were made to be a war god, after all, and from what you have said, Marnok did not sound the type of king to allow for ... a pleasant world."
Bayne chuckled. "Servitude or war seemed to be his choices of operation."
"It is interesting," Pedrague went on, "that pivotal points in your life are surrounded by flame and destruction."
The warrior god's gaze returned to that of his companion, that gaze now questioning, one eyebrow raised.
"I am not judging you, Bayne," Pedrague said, "merely making an observation. Your life has been a tragic one, in my opinion, and I would expect no less than such a site as is before us now."
"You show tenderness to one such as myself?"
"I show tenderness to all," the priest said. "Even the most low of men have some benevolent qualities, and each has the potential to turn to righteousness no matter how far they have fallen from the path."
Bayne grumbled. "You are far, far more forgiving than myself."
Pedrague's grin broadened. "Obviously."
Bayne turned back to the blasted land, stretching out a hand across the skyline. "What caused this annihilation? Another war?"
Pedrague nodded. "Yes."
"And beyond the fires? What lies there?"
"A once fertile land," the priest said. "To the south are low hills, hills that provided the king of this land with many riches. To the north are mostly flatlands, once farmland that has turned gray with the lack of use. Beyond those fields is a coastline and an ocean cold."
"If this was brought about by war, where are the soldiers, the bodies?"
The arch bishop's smile collapsed. "There are none in this place. The battle that occurred here was between a handful of individuals."
"They would seem to have been quite powerful given the extent of damage to the land."
"They were, or are, or will be," Pedrague said. "But that is no surprise. You yourself were among the combatants."
Bayne's eyes once more darted to the priest.
"Do not be so surprised," Pedrague said.
"You say this is a vision of days to come," Bayne said, "and this land --"
"Kobalos."
"Yes, this Kobalos, it has not even a name in my own time. That would lead me to surmise this time is one far from my own, or this is a land far from my own."
Pedrague nodded. "This time is far in your future, approximately two thousand years. As for the distance, Kobalos lies in what you would know as far northern Ursia."
"Those lands are barely inhabited," Bayne said. "There are but a few known barbarian tribes roaming the crags of that cold place."
"During your time," Pedrague said, waving a hand before them. "In this period, Kobalos is a sovereign nation, with a king of its own. Still, the roots of barbarism run deep here."
The warrior bent his gaze back upon the destroyed land. "To what end have you brought me here, Pedrague?"
"To see the future, your future. To see your potential."
"This?" Once more Bayne raised a hand to the horizon. "You have shown me the expected. My existence to this point would lead me to such ends. I find no surprises here."
"Truly?"
"Truly."
"Then you feel you are beyond redemption."
Bayne shrugged. "I seek no redemption."
"Then what do you seek?"
Bayne gave forth a heavy sigh. "To be left alone. Solitude. To be free of the judgments and nuisances of mankind."
"You are not the first to search for such, Bayne," Pedrague said, "nor will you be the last. However, few with such thoughts have taken your route."
"To destruction?"
"To apocalypse."
Bayne grunted, giving no other response.
"Why have you slain so many?" Pedrague asked. "Why do you kill those who cross your path?"
The warrior sneered. "As I've said, they were fools."
"There is more to it than that."
"Perhaps," Bayne said with a swift nod. "One dead fool is one less whom I will have to face in the future."
"You consider all men an enemy, then?"
"Practically. I've known few who have shown otherwise."
Now Pedrague nodded. "Despite your many travels, you have lived a limited life, Bayne kul Kanon. There are good people out there, ones who would have welcomed you with open arms."
"Ones who would have attempted to use me, you mean," Bayne said. "Of those whom I've encountered who were not combatants, all were either irrational, irresponsible or full of avarice. Most were all three, and often worse."
"Again, your life has been a limited one."
"Perhaps. But all I want is to be left alone."
The priest straightened, and motioned ahead. "Let us walk together."
/> Bayne glanced to the other man. He saw no reason not to follow through with the request. His interest was raised, as anyone's would be. What did the future hold for him? "Very well."
They walked.
Crossing the blighted ground, the war god noted the blackened dirt continued to be warm beneath his feet. As the flames on the horizon gradually grew near, he began to wonder at what had caused this conflagration. The powers exhibited must have been tremendous, at least as equal to Bayne's own strength, if not more so.
As if he knew his comrade's thoughts, Pedrague said, "The battle here was tremendous. Powers not meant for this earth were unveiled. It was fortunate this did not take place in a populated region."
"Who besides myself warred here?" Bayne asked. "Who were my enemies?"
"Another god," Pedrague said, then added, "and a mortal yet to be born for many centuries, though you have encountered his distant kin."
"Tallerus."
"Yes, exactly," the priest said. "I am surprised you knew this so directly."
They continued to stroll forward as Bayne said, "It seems my destiny is entwined with that clan, though I only guessed at the name. Is Verkanus the god with whom I will do battle?"
"Not on this field," Pedrague said.
"But I will meet him again?"
"It is likely."
"You do not know?"
"Ashal revealed much to me," Pedrague said, "but it is not my place to affirm too much for your curiosity."
Bayne halted.
His companion too came to a stop, then turned to stare at the other.
The warrior was seething once more.
"What have I said?" Pedrague asked.
"I am damn tired of others knowing more than myself," Bayne said. "Since my awakening by Verkanus, it seems everyone knows more of my past and my destiny than I myself do. It is frustrating."
"My apologies," Pedrague said. "If I were to reveal too much to you, it might give you the impetus to change future events. That must not happen. Known to you or not, Bayne, you have a destiny to fulfill."
"A destiny set by whom?"
"By no one," Pedrague said, "or perhaps the universe, or the Creator or by Ashal. I don't know everything, though you might feel that I do."
The warrior god grumbled loudly. He was about to speak further, to ask questions, when a glow in the distance caught the attention of both men.